Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the what
Sat we creatures of comfort pretending we're not;
My thoughts were all strung hither, yon and back there,
Bemoaning my tough life from my comfy chair;
.
Kids nationwide sleep all snug in extremes,
Their visions of plenty for some were just dreams;
But mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
We got this. We're charged up. Gift-buying's a snap.
.
Then up in my face there arose such a clatter,
Twas mamma with more thoughts for gifts that would matter
Away to Amazon I flew like a flash,
Tore open my wallet and spewed future cash.
.
Cocooned in my shell of sentient desire
Gave lackluster verve to my drive to aspire,
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a last minute sale, full of Christmas good cheer,
.
With a little old tagline, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles I saw what to buy,
And I whistled, and shouted, and started to cry;
.
Now, Gift Cards! Now, Wargames! Now, eBooks and Streams!
On, Smartphones! On Tablets! On Laptop Extremes!
To the top of the checkout! Sent off to devices!
Reflecting no naughty! Just bunches of nices!
.
As dry heaves that before more spewing commences,
I cheat my wallet for the sake of pretenses,
So up towards the limit my gift-buying flew,
With a cart full of noise, and too much ballyhoo.
.
Then in this unthinking, I heard myself think
Financing, withdrawing, as balances shrink
Will sustain my acceptance, my going along,
With a system that Christmas helps to keep strong.
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The image of Santa in fur head to foot,
In clothes that are tarnished with ashes and soot;
And that bundle of toys he has flung on his back,
And that reference to a peddler just opening his pack.
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A picture that twinkles! So simple and merry!
Red tape that imposes with rules arbitrary!
Santa’s smug little mouth, drawn up like a bow,
Approving this Christmas financial outflow;
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The trumpeted hype that comes round in December,
And the smoke and mirrors preserve and dismember;
Santa’s broad, lying face and little round belly,
Disarm then surprise like a bite of beer jelly.
.
He’s all chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laugh when I see him, in spite of myself;
But that wink of his eye and twist of his head,
Is misunderstood; there is so much to dread;
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Complacent and puffed up, we don’t want to work,
All bosses, regardless, we think they’re a jerk,
The truth though is different, as Santa Claus knows,
We’re just caught in a system we cannot depose;
.
We must find a new way to shout, cry and whistle,
When we’re trapped in conceit we should struggle and bristle,
So next year I promise, I’ll set things to right,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”