Why are you disturbing the peace of the world?
– No, dad.
No to what?
– Peace of the world.
No to peace? This day of all days?
– No to disturbing the peace.
O,  I see:
Why then are your cries raised to devil decibels?
– Aaa… aaaa… aaa hum! Eeee…eee …eee   hum!

I say cease that cry. There shall  no chicken be killed
in this house today. Thou shalt not kill:
what number is that among the Ten Commandments?
– Commandment Number 6, Exodus 20 verse 13
Bible scholar extraordinaire! Why then do you bay for blood?
– Christmas, dad.
Go tell that to Emperor Constantine!
From Plutarch to Balzac
all the greats have shunned the bazaar
end of his fraud.
– But you taught us in Sunday school…
Yes, that  the Christ fulfilled his ministry
did he do that on the altar of chicken blood?
Ok, show me one verse of the scriptures
where our Lord was caught in a chicken mood.
Go ask the Fὕhrer what blighted the wheels of his blitzkrieg
and  Napoleon Bonaparte what botched his blinding of Europe
or  Shaka the Zulu what froze his Mfecane machine
Thoughts of chicken lap! (and you know my hunch is near-infallible!)
This chicken thing is a fraud, son

– Aaa… aaaa… aaa hum! Eeee…eee …eee   hum!
I say wipe your tears
this is the season of peace
a time to meld with Dalai Lama
a sturdier disciple, I think
than all them chicken-merry revellers
– Aaa… aaaa… aaa hum! Eeee…eee …eee   hum!

Go on, wipe ‘em;  next year’ll be better
– Better? No gift of long tales?
No gift of long tales.
A volcanic mountain
borrowed a mound of earth
from a molehill
and when it was payday
the debtor erupted in a dissonance of tall tales:

about  treasury heists
heists so high on the richter scale
they task the digit limit of our calculators.
Long tales
about goons feasting, unscathable
in oil lagoons
about public budgets and private jets
and chiefly, about TSA
and other life-taunting sagas.

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