...yesterday, did I?! Tsk, tsk.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMXVII)


Poinsett'yas red for Xmas "cheer," detail
The huge, white snowflake cutouts with a sense
Of all we dreaded facing, tree fr'intents
A green fir Santa's head hangs from t'avail,
I've Irish strains to give the silence bail
As merry jigs in season charm from hence
The dead calm I'd not wake, but why's defense
So dearly wanted like I'm lost? Joys fail?
I know! Tis amb'ance for a party. Were
Such mine t'indulge in, these might as well do
That want of "what's just right" some good. Is't poor
Now I am dying of boredom strangely too?
Put on Tchaikovsky after Celtic fer
This restless sense I can't shake--oh, where to?!

07Dec24b

...I've either the power of coercion or else most everyone else I meet concurs: 2024 has gone by impossibly fast.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMVII)


December first is here once more, the tale
Of months, weeks, hours--this year--are flown from hence
As Xmas tricks the days out with a sense
Of fabled dreams we've known in sheer betrayl
Lo, all our lives: the colored lights' detail
Which Daddy set up for the tree's pretense
Whose silver tinsel arms Mum unpacked thence,
To put in all the slots what'd e'er avail.
If presents were less grand than dreams as t'were,
If stories of th'impovrished matched ours to
Effect, what of it? Sugar plums in tour
Were lines in songs; the camel cookies' cue,
Green sugar cookie wreaths with red hots'd cure
Our visions in good style, as how all'd woo!

01Dec24a

My son was six, the day we had to hear
The doctor tell us, he wouldn’t make it to the next year

He didn’t understand, and we didn’t know what to say
All we could tell him, was it was going to be okay

Our son loved Christmas, and the entire Christmas season

So we got an idea, the only one we could reason
We knew that this, would be the last thing he’d remember

So what if we turned June, back into December
Give him one last time, give him one last Christmas

Just to let him know, what a joy he had given us
We’d tell him a lie, and we’d make him believe it

It would be a task, but we’d have to achieve it
We sat him down, and told him the news

His eyes got really big, as he seemed to be confused

We told him that Santa, thought June would be better

So he better get started, on writing his letter
Later I walked down our street, talking to every neighbor

Asking each one, if they could do us a favor
Just for a month, could they put up all their lights

And then turn them on, for a few hours every night
I even offered, to do the work myself
Even if the person, wouldn’t offer me their help

Yet later that night, I heard my son cry
And then he told me, he didn’t want to die

So I reassured him, as he laid there in my arms
That God would protect him, and keep him safe from harm

Then I asked him, what was the thing he wanted most
As he wiped away a tear, he said he didn’t know

I didn’t sleep that night, not even a wink
Living without my son, was the only thought I could think

The next day, I got on the phone to make a call
To learn who plays Santa, every year down at the mall

Since we couldn’t visit Santa, and our options were slim
I knew that all I could do, was bring Santa to him

That night we watched movies, while we did little crafts
It was the first time in a while, I’d seen my son laugh

One of the movies, talked about angels getting wings
As everyone in town, cheerfully singed

My son then asked me, would he get to be an angel
My wife left the room, the question was too painful

I told him yes, and with that I promised
He then smiled, because he knew I was honest
The next few days, we’re a bit tough

His poor little body, had almost had enough
As I arrived home, and got out of my car
I saw a man down the street, putting up a tree in his yard

I knew my son was weak, and wouldn’t want to go outside
So I told him it was snowing, not proud that I had lied

I saw him smile, as he went back to sleep
Then I turned off his light, in the darkness I would weep

The next night we decided, to put up our tree
The three of us, my son, my wife and me
We decorated it, with ornaments and tinsel

I lifted up my son, as at the top he placed our angel
We wrapped it in lights, his favorite color of yellow

Then sat in the darkness, entranced by the glow
It was strange for sure, my wife and I thought
But this had more value, than any gift that could be bought

Next day I called a man, who owned a Santa suit
When I told him the story, not for a second did he dispute

He said he’d come by, and pay my son a visit
And when he knocked on our door, I playfully yelled, “Who is it?”

He walked inside, as my son was sitting in my chair
My son couldn’t say a word, all he could do was stare

I knew he wanted to cheer, he just didn’t have the strength
Yet he just smiled, with a wide ear to ear length

“**-**-**”, said the jolly old man
“You must be Johnny”, as he held out his hand

“Yes, that’s me.”, my boy softly said
Santa removed his hat, exposing the silver locks upon his head

“I heard from my elf, that you wanted us to meet”
Santa said, as he kneeled at my son’s feet

“I wrote you a letter”, my son said nervously
“Well, I’d love to read it”, Santa said with complete certainty

My wife then reached out, and handed Santa the note
As he read it, he seemed to get a tickle in his throat

He then looked at me, but I hadn’t yet read it
He had a look in his eyes, as if I might dread it

Santa passed me the letter, and I got my answer
I then read the words, “Santa please fix my cancer.”

My son wanted nothing, except the ability to live
However I knew that was a gift, even Santa couldn’t give

Santa gave him a hug, and then said goodbye
As he left I saw a tear, welling up in his eyes

“Santa will help me, won’t he dad?”
I said “I’m sure he will”, with everything I had

Nothing else was said, he just looked so relieved
He looked so sure, I knew it was something he believed

I carried him to bed, and there quietly he laid
As I prayed that his dreams, would carry him away

The next night, though the air was very heavy
I loaded him in his wagon, and asked if he was ready

I had another surprise, one that might lift his spirit
The smile on his face, said he was excited to hear it

As we made our way, out onto the rocky concrete
The night was lit, with the glow of lights on our street

Nearly every house, had put up their Christmas decor
His heart carried so much joy, I doubt it could take anymore

His eyes glistened, in the twinkle of red and green
It was like something, that my eyes had never seen

I never walked as slow, as I did then
Hoping that this moment, would somehow never end

He pointed and stared, and sat there in amazement
As together we traveled, down the stretch of neon pavement

A few neighbors, gave us a wave from their porch
As if to tell my son, he had their support

Then he asked, “Dad, is this all just for me?”
I tried to look confused, in a way that he could see

I then asked him, “What do you mean?”
He said that it was weird, that there was nobody else to be seen

There were no other people, no cars lined in a row
Didn’t they hear it was Christmas, why didn’t they know?

I didn’t want to lie again, so I told him the truth
So I told him, “Yes son, this is all just for you.”

“But why?” He asked, as I stopped pulling the wagon
He didn’t understand, his mind couldn’t imagine

“Because”, I said, “they all wanted to.”
“They heard you were sick, and it was the least that they could do”

When we got home, I took my son to bed
Then on his pillow, he softly laid his head

He then told me, “Dad, I think I’m ready to leave”
I said, “But you can’t, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

He just smiled, as I pulled the covers up to his chin
He then closed his eyes, eyes he’d never open again

It’s been thirty years, since I’ve last seen my son
Though the fight was hard, it was a fight that he had won

I still miss my son, and I know I’ll see him soon
And every summer since, we celebrate our Christmas in June

2 little whos
in whoville dream
while dr. seuss
screams, sam i am!

a redblue fish
carols a zart
musicalic-
ious schlittenfahrt.

the grinch steals x-
mas.i&you
ask, who will fix
a boy named sue?

My childhood comes in fond waves of recollection.

The holiday seasons of Thanksgiving and Christmas were always my favorite times of the year. Times in which familial bonds felt their strongest. It was so easy and wonderful to be swept up in the whimsical magic of the holidays. Little problems or concerns are forgotten for the sake of repeating another year of well-constructed joy.

I would shiver with glee as we unpacked our three-foot-tall artificial spruce, set it on a stack of boxes covered with sheets, and decorated it with care. Proudly displayed in the window of our single wide trailer. Every night before bed I'd stare at it admiringly.

It ******* glistened.

My mother and I would piece together a jigsaw puzzle on a card table set up in our living room while watching Christmas movies on TV. It was humble, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I recall being upset one year when my father (correctly) guessed that I bought him a Buck Knife for his Christmas gift. He then made a comment suggesting that he didn't need another knife. It crushed me because I thought it was the perfect gift for a man I tried so hard to relate to.

Most of my childhood memories are filled with joy.

Pretending my G.I. Joes inhabited the branches of our softly lit tree. The elf and angel ornaments were either friend or foe and offered either shelter or a diabolical plot of destruction. The angel atop the tree (from my mother's first marriage in the '70s) was the queen that all the other ornaments and soldiers bowed down before.

She was a goddess.

These days I can't help but be brutally honest with myself and acknowledge that the connection to my biological family is barely existent.

There are no jigsaw puzzles.
No Buck Knives.
No glistening lights.
No tree.

Just me alone in an apartment with a glass of whiskey.

There was a time when I carried on the gleeful tradition of the holidays. With my own three children by my side, I carefully placed that angel from the '70s atop the tree.

I think they were as enamored by her as I once was. I could see the innocent thrill in their eyes.

I haven't looked into their eyes for over a year.

The naive childhood excitement of the holiday season is a distant memory. Now, these days on the calendar remind me of things I will never experience again. They gently, but painfully enter like a dagger between my ribs.

The wound is reopened every ******* year.

I look around and see happy little families shopping for holiday meals and gifts as I push my humble cart around the grocery store alone. I imagine them with a crackling fireplace in their living room like I once had; decorating the tree and listening to holiday tunes. Dancing and giggling.

I can't help but wonder if my children are placing that angel atop the tree with their new dad.

The angel their grandmother passed along.

Her broken marriage.
My broken marriage.

And still, that cardboard angel sits atop the tree spreading joy.

She's a goddess.

Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit,

He rode to the tiptop to dump it!

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.

"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!

"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two

"All the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!"...



At the top of the mountain he untied his dog

From the sleigh. And the valley was filling with fog

As thick as the Who Hash he'd grinched just before.

He chuckled with glee at what was in store.

Now the Grinch grabbed the sacks from the top of the sleigh,

And with a mighty "HEAVE **!" he shoved them away.

The bags filled with toys well they weaved and they shook

With the weight of the things he so sneakily took.

Until finally momentum made things far less slow.

They fell 3000 feet to the jagged rocks below.

A sickening crunch and several sharp cries

At first startled the Grinch but caused him to realize

When he stole from the Whos down in Whoville his pride

Had gotten the best of him; he'd thrown some children inside.

He giggled maliciously, grabbed his dog Max

And got back in the sleigh, for he couldn't relax.

He had to go back, for his job wasn't done.

All the Whos down in Whoville, every last one

Every man, every woman, every daughter and son

Would be dead in their beds by the dawn of the sun.

The trip down Mount Crumpit was faster than up

As he growled to himself, "where's that ***** with the cup?"

He jumped off the sleigh, machete in hand

And marched straight into Whoville, whose gates could not stand

For the rage made him strong. How he hated the Whos

With their **** cheesy smiles, and their dumb pointy shoes,

Turned up noses and pigtails and hideous songs,

THE SONGS, THE SONGS, HOW HE HATED THE SONGS.

And now he'd make sure that the Whos sang no more...

At Cindy Lou Who's house he kicked down the door

And strode into the bedroom of Cindy Lou Who.

She woke with a start, murmured "Santa? That you?"

The Grinch, with a sneer, grabbed Lou Who by the hair,

****** her out of bed seven feet in the air,

And with two sharp knives pinned her arms to the wall.

Her screams roused her parents just down the hall.

They ran to their child to save her from harm.

The mistake that they made cost them each their right arm.

Writhing on the floor in their own ****** mess,

They looked at the Grinch in a state of distress.

"Why would you do this?" they managed to hurl,

"Please, you can **** us, just not our little girl!"

He listened to their pleas with a wry little smile,

He patiently heard them, then after a while,

He cut out their tongues with another sharp knife,

First of the husband, and then of the wife.

Then he turned to young Cindy with glee,

And hissed in her ear, "you'll do something for me..."

Cindy shook her head violently, but to no avail,

For the Grinch had the tongues on a rusty old nail.

He shoved them down her gullet. She started to choke,

Then she finally died, for the rusty nail broke.

He stepped over the body of mother Lou Who,

And the Grinch slithered over to house #2.

With this house he made quick work of the Whos.

He set them on fire to cure them of the "blues."

The blaze that resulted would spread down the street,

Drawing Whos from their houses like flies to dead meat.

A grenade waited for them in center of town.

A click, then a boom mowed, like, half of them down.

The other half attempted a weak attack.

With a Type-67 the Grinch kept them back.

The little Who children could do nothing but stare

In open-mouthed horror as the Grinch, without care,

Shot them down one by one till the snow was stained red,

And he would not stop firing till they were all dead.



And as the sun rose oe'r the grisly scene,

The Grinch drenched in blood of adult, child, and teen,

With a pentagram smack in the center of town,

And the tree in the middle would slowly burn down.

With the scalps of the Whos down in Whoville in hand,

The Grinch called his dog Max, who could barely stand

Because he was violently shaking in shock.

He could not even whimper, let alone walk.

Not a Who was left standing, not a song to be heard,

Save for that of a single Who bird

Which was quickly snuffed out by a single pistol round.

And after that there was not a sound.

The Grinch, his work finished, got back in the sleigh,

Cracked the whip over Max, and slithered away.

The last thing the poor town of Whoville would hear:

"If there's anyone left, well, I'll come back next year!"

I reflect upon the season and memory of Christmas' past,
and I cant help but to wonder if this may be my last.

A thought not born of this season and its promises of joy,
but rather from the pained reflection I am no more a boy.

I think upon friends and family at distance from my day,
who I love so very dearly though they be so far away.

I find this season lonely, with a sadness now become its gift,
yearly every passing nearer to loathing has been my shift.

At an age now to be more a cynic than an optimistic man,
seeing only greed and commerce and not some godly plan.

A Christmas of my childhood, of love, good will and of care,
forever wish I for you all,
never knowing sadness and loneliness' despair.