Hark The Herold Angels Sing

Hark the Herold Angels Sing,

Though now it falls on deaf ears.

Ushering in the Heavenly King,

Whose death no longer brings tears.

 

Lessons he taught in Gospels treasured,

Of peace and goodwill toward men.

Is doled out in statement of profits measured,

Beating records for sales once again.

 

Magi of old Bethlehem Star they followed,

With precious gifts to give to their Lord.

Today Christmas’ meaning has truly been hollowed,

With Black Friday and doorbusters for the hoards.

 

The birth of God’s Son in manger mild,

Welcoming the promise of old.

We’ve forgotten the gift of Heaven’s Child,

Preferring what’s bought and what’s sold.

 

Maybe it’s time to bring Christ back to Christmas,

Just where he always meant to live.

Before it’s too late and it’s meaning has passed,

Instead of receiving it’s best that we give.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

It’s Not The Shopping

It’s not the shopping
The shiny black Friday deals
Material wants
Created by corporate greed
For the bloating of coffers
It’s for gratitude
Communion with ones you love
Appreciation
Sadly we tend to forget
With every new commercial

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

A Thing of the Past

A thing of the past

We have become ungrateful

Feigning excitement

Mesmerized by Black Friday

And all of its false idols

Its meaning replaced

By glossy ads–hypnotic

And sworn good fortune

Thanksgiving–gone to the heap

With Christmas soon to follow

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

What is Thanksgiving

What is Thanksgiving

Nothing but Black Friday Eve

Prelude to Christmas

Our culture sold for profit

Our history up for grabs

We’ve become hollow

Freely giving up our souls

To the next slick ad

Our materialism

What does this say about us

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

The Giving of Thanks Lost

Black Friday crowds

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Fleeced

Our focus lost to door busters

Glossy color ads alluring as crack

A day of thanks reduced to dreams of Black Friday conquest

How sad it is to see culture sacrificed

Left in the ruin of materialism

Family and friends the means to an end

A holiday of joy and reflection

Reduced to nothing more than a chore

Is this what it means to give thanks

To revel in the company of loved ones

We have forgotten ourselves

What we are, why we are, who we are

Money has replaced our morality

Something to be worshiped and treasured

With something to be kept in a bank or a box

This cannot be our destiny

To lose our souls to that which is finite

What sorrow this brings

To watch what was once incorruptible

Held hostage to mere mortal desires for gratification

Pray we find the path redrawn by our moral compass

Rekindling the joy cherished by those that came before.