Reality

Here in the real world,

It’s too busy for Christmas,

Too busy for the Claus’s,

Mister and Missus.

 

Out here in the real world,

There’s money to make,

The world for us revolves around work,

And there’s no time to take,

Holiday breaks.

 

Here it is,

February now,

And I know it’s way past time,

But here in the real world,

I’m just now finding a minute,

To put pen to paper,

For a Christmassy rhyme.

 

Sugar cookies never did,

Go into the oven,

No stockings were hung,

Or carols sung,

Here in the real world,

It’s not important to build traditions,

For we are all on a mission,

That holidays don’t seem to fit in.

 

Seasonal frippery,

And packages full of mystery,

Under a flashy tree,

Aren’t part of the real world,

Here we barely notice,

That these things have come to be regarded,

As a great importance.

 

Here in the real world,

We’re generally busy,

With no spare time to prepare,

A monstrous feast,

So we gladly give a miss,

To the customary gathering,

Where anyway there is always,

Too much blabbering.

 

Out there in your world,

Christmas is a big priority,

And you view those over here,

As some kind of freak minority,

With kiddies to raise,

And memories to be made,

Presents must be present,

From wall to wall,

So you buy out the whole mall,

But here in the real world,

We have other things that please us,

And it’s not feasible,

To deal with such fuss.

 

 

 

 

 

An Improbable Holiday Happening

In case you happen,

To give a damn,

A thousand miles,

From wherever you are,

In a place quite inaccessible,

By a car,

Lives a Candy Cane,

Who is alive.

 

A Winter Wonderland,

We would call it,

It’s all white and barren,

And populated

By surly Snow Men.

 

Here in this Christmassy place,

Where there are many living Things,

One day there came,

A great storm cloud,

There were gusty winds,

That were terrible loud,

It soon burst forth,

With a sugary rain,

As down poured Candy Canes.

 

Most were devoured,

By all the Snow Men,

But one was spared,

And as he grew up,

It was declared,

That he was sent,

To make the Snow Men repent.

 

You see these surly Snow Men,

Did many crimes,

During their lifetimes,

Because in this lawless land,

One could do whatever,

Without reprimand.

 

Due to his sweet nature,

The Candy Cane became known,

As Mr. Sugar Cane,

And at the age of ten,

Learned his magical powers,

Permitted him to,

Think of a spot,

And be transported there,

On the dot.

 

Through books he learned,

About far-off places,

Where he went,

To meet new faces.

 

Most places he visited,

Just once but maybe twice,

‘Til he happened upon,

A jolly couple,

Old and fat,

And always happily chuckling,

The Mr. made toy trains for fun,

And the Mrs. had a barn,

She kept full of pet fawns.

 

Mr. Sugar Cane,

Visited this place often,

He loved the winter weather,

And the way everyone there,

Got on well together.

 

One day while conversing,

With old Nick and Mary,

Talk turned to the Snow Men,

He started cursing,

And told of their crimes,

Then expressed a wish for his home,

To experience more peaceful times.

 

It was proposed by Nick,

That he could employ,

These naughty boys,

To make tons of toys.

 

A great spell could be cast,

For them to forget their past,

He would call them Elves,

And curse them to always,

Keep toys on his workshop’s shelves.

 

Once a year,

Old Nick would deliver,

These toys to bring cheer,

To small boys and girls,

All over the world.

 

Even the deer volunteered,

To help with formulating,

This Master Plan,

And soon another spell was developed,

Fitting them to fly,

Now they could take,

Old Nick on the deliveries,

As with his old van,

He’d never make them on time.

 

That night when the Candy Cane returned home,

He had some magic stuff,

All sparkly and blue,

He went from place to place,

Where each Snow Man dwelled,

And this dust was felled,

It would take effect,

When next they crossed,

Over their doorstep.

 

They would be conveyed very quickly,

To the world of Nick and Mary,

Now called North Pole,

Where they were unknowingly slaves for life,

Toymaking forever,

With no time to cause strife.

 

Mr. Sugar Cane is still there,

In his Winter Wonderland,

Along with many other living Things,

Who think the place grand.

 

His best friend is a Christmas stocking,

Now in our world,

That would surely set people to talking,

But here,

It’s really not too shocking.

 

Whether or not you believe it,

This story should not be scorned,

As this really was how,

The North Pole got born.

Be Careful, That’s Dandy, Not Frosty

Snowflakes have fallen,

And from this white dust has arisen,

A snowman from Hell,

He’s nothing like Frosty,

But still there is,

A story to tell.

 

It’s said that after the first snowfall,

There is a white cloud that whirls and twirls,

From this He is unfurled,

Then out he steps from that drift alive,

And at the Season’s end,

He bleeds red blood,

When he dies.

 

Winter after winter,

He always shows up,

But spreading joy for the Season,

Is not his reason.

 

He looks like any standard snowman,

Attired in a plaid scarf and evergreen wreaths,

With a wide candy smile,

To mask his intentions,

You’d never guess,

That your stockings and yule cakes,

He wants to thieve.

 

But on closer inspection you’ll realize,

He radiates a chilly vibe,

Like from an Arctic blizzard,

And if you are in tune with your intuition,

Just being near him,

Will cause you to fear him.

 

He’ll make you wish for sun,

He’ll make you wish for sand,

He’ll make you wish to be,

Anywhere but within reach of his hands.

 

He can drink hot chocolate,

And stir it with an icicle,

Neither one will drip a drop,

But this is no miracle,

No,

It’s a creepy kind of magic spell.

 

At a late night sleighing party,

He may seem to fit in very well,

Conversing so cheerily and laughing so heartily,

You’d never guess,

He’s sent here from Hell.

 

Sauntering down streets,

While us people sleep,

You won’t hear a peep,

As he ruins all the children’s snowmen,

Yes he bashes them all in,

For he feels they’re Frosty’s kin.

 

He waves about an enchanted wand,

Disguised as a candy cane,

Your Christmas trees it robs bare,

Nothing did get spared,

And if you’re pissed,

He really doesn’t care.

 

Yeah not at all like Frosty,

This snowman is very naughty,

But since he was not built,

He cannot be destroyed,

Even if for this an army was deployed,

Looks like we’re stuck with him,

Until it warms,

And he can melt,

So keep your fingers crossed,

And hope you are ignored,

Until he melts on the Earth’s floor,

In a pile of snow and gore.

Outstanding Ornament

Back in the 16th century,

These people in Germany,

Their unbusy minds,

Were a little bit loopy,

And so they thought up Me.

 

Me, the Christmas Tree,

The one small piece of forest,

That you enjoy making pretty.

 

For years I’ve been growing,

And I’m just the right size,

Now the ground’s frozen,

And I wait,

To be the one chosen.

 

Mistletoe is festive,

And wreaths can be splendid,

Various other evergreen trimmings,

They too have their place,

But the highest honor,

Is reserved for me,

Me, the Christmas Tree.

 

So many traditions include me,

No matter where you go,

It’s me you will see,

Me, the Christmas Tree.

 

I see a man he is coming,

Wielding saw and axe,

He is walking my way,

Oh please tell me that this is my day,

The day I get chosen.

 

Luck was with me,

I’m chosen,

It’s finally my turn,

Now my people make me pretty,

And I stand here,

As my branches are garnished,

Watching their fireplace burn.

 

It makes me happy to stand here,

Next to their fire,

Me tucked in this corner,

Makes the room feel more cozy and warmer.

 

Where I stand there’s a window,

Outside it is snowing,

Through it I see another,

Its branches a-glowing.

 

This time of year,

We are everywhere,

Some of us tall,

Others sort of small,

Of all the charming decorations,

Aren’t we the best of them all?