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  • Writer's pictureJulissa Neely

I just learned the wise men arrived a year late

It’s Ave Maria and The Carol of the Bells

and the guilt and the glory of the stories we tell

The gravity and humanity of that baby born in a stall

The text messages keep rolling in

the angry faces, the happy faces, the sad faces, the Christmas trees, and the steady stream of the emoji nation flashing on my iPhone Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas

It’s not snowy in California unless you count the smog

It’s not sweets and mistletoe with COVID 19 and the anti-sugar clause

We want to ring the bells

We want to deck the halls

We want to be merry

We want to be able to name drop

“I'm a friend of Santa Clause”

Afraid to tell him all the things we’ve done

The naughty and the nice the Feng shui of our living rooms, our juice cleanses

It’s Christmas Time

But it’s the baby in the manger that we hate, or we love

Nobody is neutral about the things he’s done

The words he said

The book we read

It’s all in the way you read the story

It’s Christmas Time

We can’t ignore it

It’s a solo in the key of C

We can all sing along, or we can be silent and scheme a way to stop it coming around

This Christmas time, this baby and his crowd

of losers and drifters no Teslas, no Gucci, no

Venice shopping at Fiorucci

Star of wonder

Star of Night

Star with Royal Beauty Bright

Westward leading

Still proceeding

Guide us to thy perfect light

Even if we arrive late with no presents

Even if we half believe it’s just part of the elements

We creep down the hall and around the corner, turn on the light switch, look for the presents

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  • Writer's pictureJulissa Neely

Updated: Apr 8, 2020


Like extras in an old western movie

Covered in chaos and dust

Arms entwined

Tumbling down the mountainside

We cannot deny it, and we cannot hide

The fear of discovery

The quick rewind

What the mirror will find

The Masai and the supermodel know

The camera lens can steal your soul

Take a picture of this madness

Take your place among the stones and statues

The bravest glow in the light of the summer

growing green at the roots and carrying the tune

To the real reason why

We are all afraid to die

The ending we know

It’s the same old show

The villain gets what you would expect

A bullet to the heart or a noose around the neck

Creeping up through the valley

Crawling on hands and knees

Born screaming our lungs out

Called from distance galaxies

Shot through the dark eternal abyss

Up from the agony of mother’s cries

Birth pangs dragging our new souls to the light

Here we find this truth between us

Hoping if we don’t say it

We won’t have to explain it

The hero rides in on a white horse

Whistling a love song

When you’re gone don’t be gone too long

When you coming home

When you coming home

When you coming  home

You don’t know how far I’ve been

Waiting by the kitchen door, low light flickering through the window in the night storm

Sister wind, father sun, brother moon, change the tune, beat the drum

What will we become

Can you see me waiting here

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  • Writer's pictureJulissa Neely

Updated: Apr 8, 2020

21st Century Messiahs:

The 21st Century Messiahs: Science and technology

They don’t bleed They don’t cry We get a  response in nanoseconds Nothing is too personal It will store the data Create the algorithms, captures our patterns While we sit in the shadows in the glow of our screens

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