You’d Better Not Cry

It’s Christmas concert time! Oh, joy!
A time when every girl and boy
Shangaied into a junior choir
Raises voice on high–no, higher–
In a shrill cacophony
Of avarice for you and me:
You’d best not cry or pout, they’ll shriek
(About 400 times a week)
‘Cause Santa’s watching, and he’s pissed!
(I paraphrase, but that’s the gist.)
Their choir teachers don’t have time
To coax a melody sublime
From tense preadolescent throats,
But even if they bleat like goats
Or stand and blink instead of singing,
Parents hear the welkin ringing
With the “notes” their children bellow,
Each one louder than the fellow
Next to them, in their own key,
And know, no sound could sweeter be.

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Cleaning House (And Senate)

Creeps in Congress? Not surprising.
Dems seem worse at compromising
Values, though, for politics.
They try, but when dishonor sticks
They show capacity for shame
Which ultimately cramps their game.
It’s tough to win when you’re in thrall
To conscience while your not-at-all-
Equivalently-shackled foes
Say anything unproven goes.
(And when that last’s unqualified
We’ll know democracy has died.)

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I stripped my kicks beside the door
Last night, the way I always do
(But won’t be doing anymore):
There’s all this stuff inside my shoe!
A wooden car (VW),
A ball tied to a cup with twine,
Some socks with jingle bells, and two
Elf-shaped erasers. These aren’t mine!
I don’t know where it’s from, or why
My shoe’s become a dumping ground.
I’m trashing all this crap! (But I
Am eating all the sweets I found.)

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The Rational Choice

Honestly, I’m torn.
Sure, Roy Moore’s a predator,
But we both love kids!

This would be a breeze
If he weren’t Republican.
Those guys are the worst.

We’re all free to choose
Predators if that’s our thing.
I choose Pikachu!

It could be a hoax.
Who trusts 14-year-old girls?
They can’t even vote!

Even if it’s true
Mitch McConnell’s made his point:
No does not mean no.

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Happiness Is Compulsory

This December I confess
I’m feeling it a little less
Than back when kids were underfoot;
Then, up with me they would not put
Were I to channel Scrooge or Grinch.
With Santa coming, it’s a cinch
That their enthusiasm would
Infect me like the flu (that’s good).
So, what to do? Innoculation
Might screw up a good vacation,
Though if I expose myself
To children like a creepy elf
I could spend Christmas Eve in chains
Like Jacob Marley, who explains
In Dickens’ classic, what you do
In life, in death envelops you.

With that in mind, my course is clear:
Paste on a grin, pretend good cheer,
And hope the faking makes it so!
Just twenty shopping days to go…

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All I Want For Christmas…

“Christmas spirit” proves elusive
When your leadership’s abusive
And a national disgrace,
But paste a smile on your face
And do your part to heal the rift
‘Twixt Us and Them. Make that your gift
To everyone, yourself included.
Don’t forget, your pain is rooted
In your love for what could be
And what will be again. You’ll see.
Okay, the president’s an ass.
Said Solomon, This, too, shall pass.
The U.S.A. is not yet wrecked
So let its holly halls be decked
With “Happy Holidays” in lights!
(And then read Donald Trump his rights.)

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Every Day An Advent? Sure.

I just bought a calendar
That doesn’t even tell the day–
It’s just the date–and I’m not sure
It’s even one whole month! But, hey,
There’s lots of chocolate, so, okay.

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