No Merry Xmas, Sir Poem by John Sensele

No merry Xmas for us in the ghetto, no money for mealie meal
I can't afford beans, bed bugs to bite me
No cash to buy paraffin, Xmas ain't no big deal
When no job, no love, no convenient shelter to see.

No merry Xmas for us on street where we fight
Day and night for scraps of droppings and cigarette stubs;
No sir, don't talk to me about Xmas cos I might
Lose my temper in December without any scrubs.

No merry Xmas for widows and orphans
Whose daily lives famine and thirst punctuate
As if their very birth fastened them to fans
Blowing poverty air to which they struggle to habituate.

No merry Xmas for moms who wake up at the crack
Of dawn, scramble for a few pieces of silver to purchase groundnuts
And cassava at exorbitant prices; moms fry their pack
Of snacks, walk long distance with loads on their pates as customers weigh maybes and buts.