They’re all so bloody…
Coffin-hued or ashen grey
Like a party done and cleared away.
I dont want beige with a wilting font
Or a corny gag about booze
Or jabs at old women
With creaky knees or sagging tits.
This shop is shit.
Try another…it’s just the same.
But I want colour!
A card that shouts,
“You’re still here!”
A bit of cheer…a little brash
Not a eulogy with a limp blue sash.

To the corporate card sellers
With your racks of bland sorrow:
Come tomorrow
In that revolution I may yet live to see
(though I am somewhat accepting of the idea I may not)
Your aisles will not be spared.
I’ll torch the lot
In flame, not verse
I swear this curse!