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Papá Noel tenía miedo de pasar el día de Navidad
En las calles de Puerto Príncipe. Las balas se disparaban en masa
Esporádicamente, al azar. Mucha gente se escondía debajo de las camas
Los terroristas traviesos son como perros, hienas en bosques viles o desiertos mortales
Están por todas partes con grandes ametralladoras que no se fabrican en Haití
Los bandidos sin ley o demonios espantosos están matando y aterrorizando a todos
Incluso gatos viejos y ratas sucias que corren por los barrancos
Las cosas son muy serias, extremadamente peligrosas y terriblemente malas en Haití
Este año, el tío Noel tenía miedo, mucho miedo, por eso no visitó
Y no pasó por las pequeñas calles de Haití. Nadie sabe cuándo
Estas cosas feas e inusuales, el caos, los crímenes, la pesadilla cambiarán o terminarán
No hubo misas de medianoche; Todas las puertas de la iglesia estaban cerradas, cerradas
Los bandidos que calzan sandalias sucias llevan armas muy caras y modernas
Que sus tíos occidentales blancos y oligarcas sucios les dieron como regalos de Navidad
Para que puedan empujar a más civiles inocentes más profundamente en las llamas del Infierno
Es muy fascinante notar que los hombres lobos, los infames Loups Garous
También tenían miedo de ir a los cementerios para desenterrar a sus víctimas inocentes
En Haití, antiguamente la Perla de las Indias Occidentales, son perros que comen perros
Son gatos que comen gatos. Son perros que comen ratas
La gente está atrapada en este otrora paraíso, la Perla de las Antillas
Que ahora es el Infierno en la Tierra y mazmorras sangrientas para tantos
Son gatos que comen ratas. Son perros que comen ratas y gatos
Esta es una locura despreciable. Frankenstein habría sido feliz allí
La gente nunca antes había experimentado un desastre tan feo. ¿Cuándo cambiará esto?
¿Cuándo terminará esto? ¿Cuándo los colonos oligárquicos, occidentales y codiciosos
Dejarán en paz al pacífico y resistente pueblo de Haití? ¿Y cuándo, cuándo?
¿Cuándo se rebelará el valiente pueblo? ¿Cuándo, maldita sea, la diáspora
Se unirá para luchar y defender a Haití? Los Haitianos están cansados de perder vidas, dinero
Territorios y propiedades en Haití. ¿Cuándo desaparecerán de la faz del Universo
Todos estos terroristas rebeldes? Estoy gritando furioso
Maldita sea, te estoy hablando a ti. Te estoy hablando a ti, maldita sea
Te estoy hablando a ti, sí, sí, sí a ti, criminales violentos
Cucarachas, pájaros impíos, hipócritas malvados y tontos ignorantes
Deja de hablar de revolución. Usa el sentido común. Deja de soñar
Abre los ojos. Sí, porque en nombre de Iahvé, te estoy hablando a ti también
Papá Noel, Père Noël, Tonton Nowèl tenía miedo. No hay pobres ni gente pequeña
No recibieron regalos, nada, cero, chivatos, sólo los sórdidos perpetradores
Que matan y aterrorizan a los ciudadanos, estaban de fiesta. La débil Policía
El ejército y los indefensos vacacionistas de la ONU no pueden hacer más
Simplemente pueden hacer menos. Sabemos que Haití no es Ucrania
Pero Haití necesita ayuda. Los Haitianos están desesperados, los nefastos presidentes
Del CPT ganan mucho dinero, mucho dinero, mucho dinero, mucho dinero
Y mucho dinero, los infames que están en el poder, reciben mucho dinero
Estos traidores están defendiendo sus bolsillos, no la patria
No protegerán a la gente inocente, no defenderán a Haití
Los bandidos, terroristas, hipócritas y oligarcas codiciosos están al mando
Los grupos criminales están dispersos ubicuamente en los pasillos, por todas partes
El pequeño Jesús no fue a Haití, él también tenía miedo. Santa Claus no vino
Tenía miedo naturalmente. Pensemos, pensemos profundamente
Resistamos y soñemos hasta la primavera.

P.D. Este poema está dedicado a todos los que sufren en Haití.
El pueblo haitiano y la diáspora están cansados de ser humillados. Abajo la miseria,
La inseguridad, la corrupción, el crimen, la injusticia, la impunidad, la discriminación y la desigualdad.
Esta es una traducción de ‘Pè Nowèl Te Pè Pase Nan Pòtoprens, Ayiti’,
“Santa Claus Was Afraid to Pass Through Port-au-Prince, Haiti’.

Copyright © Diciembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
Hebert Logerie Dec 2024
Papa Noël was afraid to pass through on Christmas Day
In the streets of Port-au-Prince. Bullets were being fired in droves
Sporadically, haphazardly. Many people were hiding under beds
Naughty terrorists are like dogs, hyenas in vile forests or deadly wilderness
They are everywhere with big machine guns which are not made in Haiti
The lawless bandits or God-awful devils are killing and terrorizing everyone
Even old cats and ***** rats that are running in the ravines
Things are very serious, extremely dangerous and awfully bad in Haiti
This year, Uncle Noël was scared, very afraid that's why he failed to visit
And to pass through the tiny streets of Haiti. Nobody knows when
These ugly and unusual things, chaos, crimes, nightmare will change or end
There were no holy midnight masses; all the church doors were shut, closed
The bandits who wear filthy sandals carry very expensive and modern weapons
That their white uncles and ***** oligarchs gave them as Christmas gifts
So that they can drive more innocent civilians deeper into the fires of Hell
It is very fascinating to notice that the werewolves, the infamous Loups Garous
Were also afraid to go to the cemeteries to unearth their innocent victims
In Haiti, formerly Pearl of the West Indies, It's dogs eating dogs
It's cats eating cats. It's dogs eating rats
People are stuck in this once paradise, Pearl of the Antilles
Which is presently Hell on Earth and ****** dungeons for so many
It's cats eating rats. It's dogs eating rats and cats
This is a despicable madness. Frankenstein would have been happy there
People have never experienced such ugly mess before. When will this change
When will this end? When will the oligarchic, western and greedy settlers
Leave the peaceful and resilient people of Haiti alone? And when, when
When will the brave people revolt? When, **** it, will the Diaspora
Unite to fight and defend Haiti? Haitians are tired of losing lives, money
Territories and properties in Haiti. When will all these unruly terrorists
Disappear, vanish on the face of the Universe. I'm shouting angrily
You, **** it, I'm talking to you. I'm freaking talking to you
I'm ******* talking to you, yes, yes, yes to you, violent criminals
Cockroaches, ungodly birds, wicked hypocrites and ignorant fools
Stop talking about revolution. Use common sense. Stop dreaming
Open your eyes. Yes, for in the name of Yahweh, I'm talking to you too
Santa Claus, Père Noël, Tonton Nowèl was afraid. No poor and little people
Received no gifts, nothing, zero, nitch, only the greedy perpetrators
Who **** and terrorize the citizens, were celebrating. The weak Police, the feeble
Army and the helpless UN vacationers can't do more; they can simply do less
We know that Haiti is not Ukraine, yet Haiti needs help. Haitians are desperate
The nefarious CPT presidents make big moollah, big dough, big gourds, big bucks
And big money, the infamous ones who are in power, receive a lot of money
These traitors are defending their pockets, not the homeland
They won't protect the innocent people, they won't defend Haiti
The bandits, terrorists, hypocrites and greedy oligarchs are in command
Criminal groups are scattered ubiquitously in the corridors, all over, everywhere
Little Jesus didn't go to Haiti, he was scared too. Santa Claus didn't come
He was scared naturally. Let's think, think deep, resist and dream until spring.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to all who are suffering in Haiti.
The Haitian people and the Diaspora are tired of being humiliated. Down with misery,
Insecurity, corruption, crime, injustice, impunity, discrimination, and inequality.
This is a translation of ‘Pè Nowèl Te Pè Pase Nan Pòtoprens, Ayiti’.

Copyright © December 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Hebert Logerie Dec 2024
Papa Nowèl te pè pase sou Chanmas
Nan lari Pòtoprens. Bal tap tire an mas
Tout kote. Anpil moun sere anba kabann
Teroris yo kwè chyen nan yon move savann
Yo tout kote ak gwo zam ke yo pa fabrike an Ayiti
Bandi yo ap touye e terorize tout moun
Mèm vye chat ak rat kap kouri nan ravinn
Bagay yo grav e danjere nan peyi Dayiti
Tonton Nowèl te pè se sak fè kel pat pase
Ane sila. Pèsonn moun pa konn kilè ke
Bagay sa, dezòd, krim, kanaj sa yo ap chanje
Fini. Pate gen mès minwi, tout pòtt legliz te fèmen
Bandi ak sapat yo gen gwo zam ki trè chè
Ke tonton blan yo bayo kòm kado Nwèl
Pou pèp la ka al kreve pi fon nan lanfè
Sak pi rèd djab sal ak vye san pwèl
Pè al nan simetyè pou al leve moun ke
Yo te touye. Se chyen manje chyen
Se chat manje chat. Se chyen manje rat
Moun antrave nan peyi sila. Se chat
Manje rat. Se chyen manje rat ak chat
Sa se laraj. Moun pa janm te konn tande
Vye istwa sa yo.  Kilè ke bagay sa ap fini, chanje
Kilè ke kolon oligaka, loksidan e sanzave
Sa yo ap kite ti pèp la an repo e kilè
Ke ti pèp la ap revolte, kilè, fout kilè
Dyaspora a fatige pèdi lajan ak propriete
Nan peyi sa. Kilè ke tout teroris sa yo
Ap disparèt. Map fout rele anmwey. Yo
You, map pale ak ou. I’m talking to you
Map fout pale ak ou, wi ak ou
Kokorat, zwazo mechan, ipokrit, sanzave
Pa fout pale de revolisyon. Sispann reve
Ouvri je nou. Wi map pale ak ou tou
Pè Nowèl te pè, oken malere e ti moun
Pat resevwa oken kado sèl move moun
Kap touye e terorize pèp la tap fete. Lapolis
Lame ak nèg Loni yo, se kòm si ke yo paka fè plis
Se mwens ke yo fè sèlman. Nèg CPT yo touche
Gwo lajan, sak nan pouvwa resevwa anpil lajan
Nèg yo ap defann pòch, yo pap defann Patri
Yo pap pwoteje pèp, yo pap defann Ayiti
Ikrèn resevwa gwo kado, gwo zetrenn
Ayiti resevwa  gwo anbago, wi nou konprann
Bandi, teroris, gangstè, loksidan ak olygaka ap vale tèren
Gwoup kriminèl yo ap mennen
Ti Jezi pat ale an Ayiti, li te pè. Papa Nwèl pat pase
Li te pè natirèlman. An nou panse, reflechi anpil jisko printan.

P.S. This poem is dedicated to all who are suffering in Haiti.
Pèp Ayisyen ak dyaspora a bouke pran imilasyion. Aba la mizè, insekirite
koripsyion, krim, injistis, inpinite, diskriminasyon, e inegalite.
See translation of ‘Santa Claus Was Afraid to Pass Through Port-au-Prince, Haiti’.
Copyright © Desanm 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm.
A M Ryder Dec 2021
When two Santas
Enter a room
Things can get
Ruthless
Sushri das Dec 2020
The new year is arriving,
It's the time of Christmas,
The day we all were waiting for,
With jingle bells and tree of X-Mas.
To share pleasure in different forms,
The streets will be filled with lights,
All will relish its bouquet,
In these cold winter nights.
Houses are decorated with garlands,
And are hold up by the alluring poinsettias.
Those luscious pies of pumpkin and apples,
And the Christmas pudding,ornamented with leaves of maples.
It's the time of Festivus ,time of feasting,
With kindness in our hearts,it's time for gift-giving.
Let's sing loud so the world could hear the deepness,
With the season's greetings and a lot of togetherness.
Time for Christmas
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy . . .
just . . . Santa, please,
I’m on my knees! . . .
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!

Will Jesus Christ cause or allow Albert Einstein and Mahatma Gandhi to be tortured in an "eternal hell" for guessing wrong about which earthly religion to believe? What about Jesus's parable of the Good Samaritan, who put aside religious differences to practice compassion? Did Jesus, who saved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, talk the talk but fail to walk the walk? Or did Christian theologians get something very, very wrong? And what would Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny say about such intolerance and infinite cruelty?  Keywords/Tags: Christianity, Jesus Christ, Santa Claus, Christmas, heaven, hell, salvation, Gandhi, Hindu, saint, knees, kneeling, prayer, mercy, compassion, grace, toys, games, candy
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to **** and plunder?

For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!

When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,

when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?

“And I will **** her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.” (So much for grace according to Revelation 2:23, where Jesus, or someone speaking for him, vows to personally ****** children for their mother’s sins!)

Published by Lucid Rhythms, Poet’s Corner and translated into Czech by Vaclav ZJ Pinkava

Keywords/Tags: Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Jesus Christ, Bible, Revelation, mass ******, serial ******, homosexuals, harlots, hookers, prostitutes, heretics, atheists, agnostics, nonbelievers, non-Christians
A B Faniki Sep 2019
Dear black Santa claus I have some wish
It is not as many as the hair on
your head as a matter of fact the wish
is about hair, you see my friend Malik has turn

nineteen last summer and up to now his face
is as smooth as a baby **** without a lick
of hair, Oh! black santa in your next phase
of trip and among your commodity of hair send malik

a beard, so that he won't be in despair
not that that is any business of mine and
please dear black Santa claus don't show this letter
to Saint Nicholas your counterpart with the white beard

I don't want him to accidentally send Malik a white
beard because that will freak him out.
AB Faniki © 9/8/2029 all right reserved  an attemp at humours piece using sonnet form I hope u enjoy it. It was supose to be part of my work banal tells.
Christmas was just two days away
The letters were all sorted
One of them was pulled on out
And to Santa was reported

A young girl asked a question
Dear Santa, she did say
How can you love most everyone
Each and every single day?

You have your list of children
Some are naughty, some are nice
You review the list quite carefully
I'm told you check it twice

Santa read the letter
It gave the old man quite a jolt
A question from this little girl
Hit him like a  lightning bolt

She asked about the adults
How could Santa love them too?
Especially the bad ones
Who do the naughty things they do

What about the children
Who are not Christian in belief?
This short and simple letter
Was giving Santa Claus some grief

He thought about replying
Tell her how he felt this love
But, he knew he could do better
It was then push came to shove

He called down to the stables
Ordered Comet be made ready
He was told "It's nearly Christmas"
He won't be flying steady

Santa said "I need him"
"There's somewhere I must go"
"There's a little girl out there somewhere"
"And there is something she should know"

Santa went and got his parka
Comet readied for some air
Santa had to give his answer
He thought that this was fair

Two nights before Christmas
Santa set out, Comet too
To tell this girl his reason
It was something he should do

Somewhere down in Kansas
Sleeping deep inside her bed
The little girl was dreaming
Christmas thoughts did fill her head

Down the young girls chimney
Santa came without his sack
It was two days on from Christmas
And he knew that he'd be back

He crept up to her bedside
Leaned on in and whispered low
He told her, it was Santa
There is something you should know

I love all the worlds children
They are innocent and free
They choose to be so open
Innocence is the key

Innocence, it surrounds them
In time the innocence is lost
You aren't born to hate
Innocence burns off like frost

I love all the worlds  children
Adults once were children too
They were born without their darkness
The same as me and you

I love on different levels
That is why I have the list
That's why I double check it
To ensure no one's missed

So, I do not love them always
But for a short time,  I do
The change is loss of innocence
It isn't all that new

Believe and you will feel it
My love for all the world
Now sleep, and wait for Christmas
You are a special little girl

He left and she lay sleeping
He made it home by break of day
Comet went back to his stable
Santa put his suit away

He had a cocoa and a cookie
It  made him feel much  better
It had been a huge adventure
Started by a single letter

Keep the faith and innocence
In the season winter kissed
And know that every person out there
Is always on one list

Remember, write your letters
Ask your questions, do not fear
For maybe, maybe one day
Santa will come and whisper in your ear
Santa stood by the fire
With a pipe in his teeth
With smoke in the air
Circling him like a wreath

Clement Clarke Moore
Said this so long ago
But, what kind of pipe
I'm sure you don't know

Santa, a smoker
That's nothing new
If you remember the poem
Then you'll know it's true

The pipe, oh so slender
A small bowl at the end
A slight whisper of smoke
In the air, it would send

It arched to the floor
To the end of his beard
If it ever got close
Then his beard would be seared

The tobacco he smoked
Was a Turkish fine blend
With cloves and some nutmeg
Just how much, would depend

Was he giving out presents
Or sitting down by a fire
That determined just what
He would put in his briar

The pipe had a name
It was a Churchwarden pipe
Made of briar so old
A now long extinct type

Red Man tobacco
Some days he'd switch
But, not very often
It made his nose itch

The pipe is a classic
It shows Santa had style
Though it had a small bowl
It would last him a while

He could make rings appear
And they would circle his head
Or he'd just taste the spice
And form a small cloud instead

A Churchwarden pipe
Can be smoked by so few
It's a long way to draw
It's a tough thing to do

The scent that it leaves
Is of burnt spices and pear
And if you should smell it
You know Santa was there

So, this Christmas instead
Make it your pre bedtime goal
To leave out some OHM Turkish
To replenish his bowl
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