Jingle belles
Lamenting to the IPOD tunes
with a glum face
Santa rides
the wooden cart,
the rusty cart
torn and crumbling,
trembling
to the IPOD tunes
Santa marches on…….
No more
gospel songs,
wavering
to hip-hop beats
shivering
to the artificial
AC heat, listening
to the extravagant
prayers, the little hearts
praying for electronic
miracles, the head
whirl-pooling
to millions
of expensive wishes,
tortured and demented,
prayers unanswered,
unfulfilled and piling up,
killing his veins,
listening
to their wishes
Santa ambled on..
As he stood in dismay,
not knowing
how to fulfill
millions of wishes,
when a rich tycoon
dressed in a tuxedo
got off from
a cozy
Limousine
and offered
him a drink
and paid him
with gems,
for Santa
to do his bidding
he paid,
for Santa
to do his
Mercurial mercenary
biddings he paid..
The Santa
jumped in joy
to his sudden
change of fortunes,
hugged cozy
cushions, drank
and danced
with Malaysian cuisines,
the pride
tampered, lost
and murdered,
in fury he
tore down
the wooden cart,
took the tycoon's
offer with all his heart,
jumped
in to the Limousine,
wrapped his
shaggy beard
around the tycoon,
together in joy
cuddled among
cushions of Limousine,
and singing
IPOD tunes, they set off
to spread
the mercurial, mercenary
glory of Christmas.
Shashendra Amalshan 2011
Sadly, it ain't like it used to be. I thought I was just getting old but I see by this timely and prudent poem, and the comments beneath that it isn't just me. Something's changed and not for the better. Nice write my friend.