Bitterness (or: I’ve not paid for C*****mas yet)

A waste of time – this Valentines!
A mess of pink-faced corporate swine
Arise from silent post-Yule wallow
And force the populace to swallow
A date plucked from an obscure myth
A Saint, we’re told with solemn breath.
This myth then linked to love and lust –
Ergo, you miss: your love life’s bust.
So at yet another time of year
The wallet must ‘religion’ fear:
A woman’s brain of reason sound
Becomes a fertile planting ground
For seed of gift-box expectation;
And woe betide her indignation
If for some reason you select
To abstain, question or object.
Thus runs smooth the corporate plan
To exploit and browbeat modern man.
I could go on, but something nags:
Despite my ire at corporate slags
I know that all I have I’d drop
For cause to be mugged at the florist’s shop.