When the time comes
to suffuse with cerulean,
It'd better be us
To come up with utopian
                          Christmas.
Never warned but
It's always a hot mess:
Lights, a decorous manner
             Of telling the truth,
So bombastic each trimming
                  Of your spruce!
Yes, guests..If only
    With obsequious manners,
           And de minimis SADs.
We will toast with
Most tarnished of their plights
To such a pandemonium!
We will wager in candlelights
To never cease
This ferociousness over the feast.
How can this be measured
                        By what it seems
In a moral world desperate
                                    To digest
Everyone, given it a chance
Until there's a fetid nuisance.
So, it'd better be us.