That Is Not The Reason For The Season

It’s not about eating candy canes,

Those were created to signify,

He who died.

 

It’s not about whose tree is prettiest,

They’re all wonderful,

Without a doubt,

But that’s not what,

The day is all about.

 

It’s not about a fancy feast,

You should be thinking rather of those,

Walking through your door,

For whom you cooked it for.

 

It’s not about the presents,

Yes the Wise Men gave,

To show their appreciation,

But this Santa thing has been blown,

Tremendously out of proportion.

 

It’s not about the lights,

Those too signify Christ,

And it really would not be a plight,

If you forgot to plug them in one night.

 

It’s not about the carols,

The day really will go on,

If you choose not to hear those songs.

 

It’s not about expensive ornaments,

They are simply,

Unnecessary adornments.

 

It’s not about the stockings,

They solely arose from a legend,

At that First Christmas,

They were never even mentioned.

 

It’s not about the Elves,

They came about,

Just to fill,

Your entertainment center’s shelves.

 

Would not our ancestors,

At that First Christmas be surprised,

With the way the day,

Has been commercialized?

People need to think on,

How and why the Season came about,

Before they go ahead,

And pull their wallets out.

 

 

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.

A Re-Written Fairy Tale

Today I must,

For you re-write,

The story of Snow White,

As you read it through,

It may indeed pale,

In comparison to the original tale,

But I swear to you,

Each word is true.

 

Inside a vast forest,

Deep inside and to the North,

Lies a comely cottage,

Inhabited by a beauty called Snow White,

Who lives a simple life,

Happy and at one,

With our Mother Earth.

 

Each day is different though the same,

She wanders out,

And navigates her way about,

Picking herbs and berries,

Until she has all that she can carry.

 

Often she will spy,

A pretty bird in a tree up high,

Or an interesting flower swaying to and fro,

In the valley not far below,

But nothing could prepare her to see,

What she saw this morning,

They were a seriously scary,

And ugly thing to see.

 

A midget and a skeleton,

From the back yea sure,

They only looked like a couple of gentleman,

But upon them hearing our Snow White,

They stopped and turned around,

And there her heart nearly stopped,

Yes it plummeted to the ground,

And her scream was heard,

For quite a distance around.

 

You see she was used to,

Conversing with the animals,

And the occasional passerby,

Normally those out and about this early,

Were nothing like this evil looking,

Spine chilling crew of two.

 

Once her heart beat settled down,

She looked to them with a frown,

And though their words then were polite,

When they walked away,

She could hear them laughing about her fright.

 

Unused to interruptions such as these,

In her commonly calm grove of trees,

Since normally the type to pass through,

Were friendly and sincere,

She went to see Queen Aimee,

Knowing she would lend an ear.

 

After a talk and a drink,

Snow White was calmer,

And made her way back home to think,

Then at some point she fell asleep,

And awoke knowing just,

What to do to these creeps.

 

She had to bide her time,

Not just execute her plan on a dime,

She decided she would wait,

For Halloween to come around,

Then for sure this midget and this skeleton,

Would fall victim to her bait.

 

Her daily routine now has her on edge,

Never has she been so uncomfortable,

In what is normally her element,

The birds are no longer as beautiful,

Nor the flowers as fragrant.

 

Still though she powers through,

She must,

As the things she gathers,

Are her livelihood,

So she deals with these two daily,

While out on her strolls,

And the things she hears from them,

Are never very good.

 

What used to be so pleasant,

Was now nerve wracking and stressful,

There were still the lovely encounters,

With forest creatures and neighbors,

But no matter how much good was present,

Seeing those two would add a touch of dreadful.

 

While picking berries with Queen Aimee,

At a crossroads near her cottage,

Snow White could see the midget,

He was going about his business,

A slight scowl on his face,

She wished then that she could drown him,

In a pot of piping-hot porridge,

Especially when along came his skeleton,

And together they started speaking of her,

The lies they spoke were so vicious,

There was no way now,

For them to ever earn her forgiveness.

 

As the summer wore on,

Fall settled upon Snow White’s woods,

And for her plan,

She began to gather,

The needed goods.

 

She could see without a doubt,

That the midget and the skeleton,

Needed to be taken out,

They always schooled their face,

Into a friendly mask,

Until the unlucky one was gone from their space,

Then insulting talk and mean laughter would commence.

 

These two evil boys went out of their way,

With snide comments,

And nasty looks,

Their despicable behavior,

Made them many enemies,

Amongst this lot of trees.

 

Inside her cottage,

The cauldron smoked and bubbled,

With a brew so potent,

It would take only a moment,

For them to go under,

And leave Snow White and her woods,

Again untroubled.

 

Before long the day arrived,

Time for the annual Halloween bash,

All the forest folk were invited,

Even those two known as,

The neighborhood trash.

 

A great array of gourmet dishes,

Prepared exclusively by our Snow White,

Were set up on a massive table,

Bathed in colorful flashy lights.

 

There was a name card at each seat,

And two had beside them,

An extra-special treat,

A piece of her famous apple pie,

With just enough poison,

To not quite make them die.

 

First there was casino card games and some dancing,

Then to the food tables,

Everyone started advancing,

While they all filled their plates,

Snow White snuck off to hide,

To watch the midget and the skeleton,

Devour their food,

And then her bait.

 

Soon it was time for everyone to go,

All were so buzzed and full,

No one noticed the two troublemakers,

Had been brought down,

By their resident baker.

 

She dragged them inside,

And left them to a lifelong nap,

Where Karma could complete the work,

Their princesses never showed,

At the humble abode,

And as their lips never received their kiss,

They were forced to stay,

Forever like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We Hope You Have A Horrorble Holiday

A black cat,

Who wears an orange top hat,

Head of the Horrorble Spooky Pack,

We are no joke,

And on Halloween,

We like to leave things battered and broke.

 

I may be a sweet-looking thing,

But from my brain,

Meanness does sing,

And unto you,

My Spooks will do,

Anything I tell them to.

 

We promote fear,

Like Santa promotes cheer,

I’m ancient like him,

But my morning jogs,

Keep me spry,

So I can make you cry.

 

At our meeting today,

The whole Pack was so excited,

That it’s time to come out and play,

They’ve come up with piles of plans,

To give you a horrorble holiday.

 

We are comprised of lots of horrors,

Who all make me very proud,

A Live Witch’s Broom,

And some Screaming Wind,

Are some of the,

More exotic things.

 

Then there are the regular ones,

Like an Ivory-Boned Skeleton,

And an Enormous Evil Pumpkin,

Who weighs a literal ton.

 

Do any of these,

Sound scary to you?

If not,

Then you may be a fool.

 

The Live Witch’s Broom can sweep you,

Off the face of the Earth,

And the Screaming Wind,

Can render your ears,

Unable to hear.

 

The Skeleton and Pumpkin,

Are not just cute or silly decorations,

They can do evil,

Beyond your wildest imagination,

Would you like to see a demonstration?

 

I thought not,

But hey now don’t go run and hide,

It would so waste the night,

If you sat inside,

Come on now don’t be a pansy,

Get on out there,

And collect that candy.

 

We will be waiting,

Wherever we are,

Poor you,

If from us you are not far.

 

 

 

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.

Ghost Dog

I’m here and I’m there,

I’m really everywhere,

I’m the Ghost Dog,

Traveling all around you,

As a paranormal fog.

 

Few have seen the real  me,

As I died back in ’70,

But sometimes I am revealed,

If I notice you,

And you hold me any appeal.

 

I have traveled the country of my birth,

From Bangor to L.A.,

The reactions I get from those who see me,

Often leave me doubled over with mirth.

 

I spend my nights,

At fancy five-star resorts,

I like staying in suites,

Numbered one-thirteen,

But I’ll use two-thirteen,

As a last resort.

 

I stay for free,

‘Cuz when I float through the door,

They can’t see me,

Sneaking across their lobby floor.

 

I like to take a bubble bath,

In the relaxing Jacuzzi hot tub,

Then prowl the kitchen for dinner,

Quietly though,

So as not to cause a hubbub.

 

I’ll then float down the halls,

And out the exit,

I’m headed to the Tiki,

To snag me some fireball.

 

Daytime is even better,

It’s so interesting,

I go to dog parks,

And make friends who wear sweaters.

 

The doggies can see me,

But their owners cannot,

While we jump and growl in play,

All they see,

Is one pup on a leash,

Who’s for naught acting crazy.

 

This amuses me greatly,

Especially this one little old lady,

She one time shrieked at her fur baby,

“Misty stop it!, or I’ll tell Daddy”!

 

Silly things like this,

Make me pleased to be stuck,

Among those forever dwelling,

In an afterlife,

Spent neither in Heaven or in Hell.

 

It’s not often I materialize,

As an apparition,

But when I do,

Behold,

For I am quite the vision.

 

I am shiny red and pretty,

With bright brown eyes,

From time to time,

I lay at the foot of a bed,

So when someone awakes,

They have a surprise.

 

I suppose I’ll go on,

Decade after decade,

Each day busying myself,

With charming others,

From dusk until dawn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bad, Bad Bear!

Somewhere out there,

There lives a Teddy Bear,

And he’s dominated by the spirit,

Of Demonic Dominic.

 

This Big Black Bear is black as night,

And he does not live life right,

Those sweet-looking glass brown eyes,

They are his disguise,

They make him seem,

Sweet as pie,

But really he’s on a mission,

A mission to make someone die.

 

The agenda those eyes do conceal,

Is one you’d never guess,

To be fair,

He is a teddy bear,

Not one that’s usually suspected,

Of causing a deadly ordeal.

 

But that face hides more crime,

Than any poker face,

Seen on the Vegas Strip,

So if you happen about,

And you notice this Black Bear,

Please, turn around!

And please, pick up your pace!

 

Normally he is encountered,

Deep inside a forest,

At one of those alluring clearings,

Where the unsuspecting navigate,

When they need to find some calm,

And when they need to get their bearings.

 

If your troubled soul,

Has in fact sought out his clearing,

I hope you’re ready for your life to end this night,

Because he’s been on a roll,

And you showing up,

Has brought him delight.

 

He is there in hiding,

And until he’s ready,

Black Bear’s face you will not see,

You’ll never know this bear is spying.

 

As you sit and contemplate,

Whatever plight has brought you here,

He’ll be creeping closer,

‘Til finally you notice he is there.

 

Distraught as you were,

When you made your way into his clearing,

It will not surprise him,

That you did not notice him nearing.

 

And when finally you look up,

You’re in a calmer state of mind,

And you really notice your surroundings,

But you notice nothing,

That should not be around,

There are trees and there is grass,

And a carelessly discarded toy,

A few feet before the rock,

Where you have parked your ass.

 

Now you are fucked,

You’re shit out of luck,

Assuming that toy means no harm,

Was your last mistake,

Because your life he means to take.

 

It’s too bad you do not know,

That your life’s at stake,

Because as of now,

There’s still time to make a break.

 

As he lays there on the grass,

Those glass eyes are watching you,

To see if you will take your leave,

Or if your life he can thieve.

 

He watches you go back,

To being detached,

Yet still you’re unaware,

That there’s a life in there,

And you’re also unknowing,

Of the reason he is there,

It’s too bad you do not know,

That it’s time for you to go.

 

So many before you,

Came to this clearing to unwind,

They just needed a little while,

To find their mind,

So again they might smile,

Then never were they heard from again,

As if they vanished into thin air,

All because they went There.

 

What looks like an old forgotten plaything,

Like a cute and fuzzy teddy bear,

Is actually demonic,

It’s dominated by a spirit,

Who wishes never to depart,

Dominated by the spirit,

Of Demonic Dominic.

 

Now Black Bear is laughing,

Laughing in his head,

For him to stay,

You must go away,

Now the time has come,

For him to pounce,

He needs to feed,

From a naughty deed,

He needs to see you dead.