"deceiver" poems
Lairs twist life so it's tasty to the lazy
Powerful to the weak and crazy
Brilliant and seductive to the
ignorant youth
But even in pain, there is beauty in the truth
Even a tiny bit of deceit is dishonorable
For only cowards lie selfishly without preamble
As lies only strengthen a liar's defects
A liar's character, mind, & spirit gains no positive affects
The abuser of the truth paints with disappearing colors
Valuing the canvass at worthless dollars
For once the veil of the facade is lifted
Honesty, integrity and trust can never be re-gifted.
Unhappy are the takers
Or why else be fakers?
But to devastate the essence of the believer
Measures the cruelty of the deceiver
Inner peace with self deception
Is the doing of one's own soul's destruction
However if truth be told
When lies gradually unfold,
Is it better to be the believer
Or the deceiver?
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
for Tascha
deep in the pond of unhappy, swimming,
drowning the next contemporaneous
depression thought quickly swallowed,
desperation in quick glances everywhere,
dawn is no consolation but just another
daily drawing tighter of twine cutting
disillusionment
dear god, commences every thought,
delayed answers have yet to arrive,
**** the deity's non-responsivness,
dare not say out loud lest,
deserved fates be worse, be realized,
didn't know? how can that be?
disguiser par excellent, I am the original
deceiver
But I never think about
death or dying, for that would be
defeat finale, a statute to, a status of none, a
destiny some wick spark, still insists can be
deferred
differed always,
diffidently, but grasping yet at the
double entendre that is my
dark vision of a future already past
May 2015
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
The race isn't for the fastest,
But for those who can endure it until the end.
Boy like a cheater and a world record beater,
On the running track with his sponsored spiked sneakers.
Ready for the race and the crowd's screaming BOLT!!
An athlete's little secret later on was unfold.
Deceiver in the eyes and loyal in disguise.
A proper pro player, with heavy bonds and ties.
Not in it for it but in it for the fame,
Forgetting about the hard-work, sweat, loss and pain.
An athlete's little secret, later on explained.
People, can you trust in the one you trusted before?
Or even the one who stand among you today?
Their lies and deceits are like roaring storms,
And they are like animals that are very hard to tame.
But they took it upon themselves playing a dangerous game.
An athlete's little secret, later on in shame.
They took drugs like all around the clock.
The more drugs they took, the more enhanced they got.
But then they got exposed and hid in shame.
I guess that drugs didn't help their strive to fame.
Left in the dark and loss all but everything,
Can people still trust? Can a second chance be given?
An athlete's little secret, later on forgotten.
An athlete's little secret, later all on the news,
An athlete's little secret, so much they had to loose.
A athlete's little secret, once a try and a glance,
An athlete's little secret, there is no second chance.
An athlete's little secret, there's no more to say,
An athlete's little secret, the bed you made to lay.
The world once had great and untouchable athletes.
Who had admiring levels of personas.
Who truly understood what hard-work brings,
And who went through pain and unbearable things.
But there are some who stoop really low,
Just so they can bring a medal home.
Bronze or silver, none or gold,
An athlete's little secret later on was told.
Based on this topic and what I have learnt.
The lost of young athletes made me felt hurt.
But it's not fake it's all reality.
This fight isn't against powers nor principalities.
But a fight to teach honesty and give all of your heart.
An athlete's little secret, a fight to make it last.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
Ah deceit, you wicked *******
creeping up uninvited, as always
no one sees you coming
none will know when you’re gone
your delicious lies stay but for an instant
and here still, you find a cue
to salt the exposed wounds.
You were never missed
your many forms, vibrant faces
the infamy and calumny
stories unchecked and forgotten
buried under the moniker of bygones.
Yet the scars remain,
deep cuts betrayal, but never fills.
The entrusted deceiver
your snake in the grass
silence is deadlier than a sharp tongue
this venom cannot drown a writhing heart
hope, kindling another tragedy
the reasons are always above par
emotions run amuck behind bars.
The tongue blackens every time
you sever the threads which bind loyalty
leaving the void to **** away the remains
into a crushing dark abyss
the face carries a smile that never fades
the heart has long since withered to naught
now, it cheats itself to bitter death.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
God said,
-through the Shaikh...
..be He blessed,
The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.
Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;
*Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?*
WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?
YOU *have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!*
This is the end of an Age,
Hypocrite!
Vanity is your loss.
* *...be not a deceiver...
(85:20)* *
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
No one wanted to believe in angels anymore
because they have met so many demons
*But little did they know,
I came across a deceiver
who became a love giver.*
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Clear, serene, crystal pool of collected calm
naked to the eye, deceiver of the deceived.
I see myself in you.
And so much i hate.
For you spectators are sport;
To be picked and plowed, ticked and crossed.
Making old wrongs new.
Fooling all.
You lie to my face, I see how you
bend and twist your shape.
Contorting my view. Calling me untrue.
Nothing is upfront.
My hands are tied behind, a foot above
hovers the dagger.
It hangs, yellow, brittle, jagged canine.
Reminds me of your smile.
Villains smile. One day I will rap a knuckle,
crack your rattling skull.
I will open that box and set evil upon the world.
All I have ever known.
Seven years bad luck;
better than a life time.
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:39 AM UTC
Away! away!
Tempt me no more, insidious Love:
Thy soothing sway
Long did my youthful ***** prove:
At length thy treason is discern’d,
At length some dear-bought caution earn’d:
Away! nor hope my riper age to move.
I know, I see
Her merit. Needs it now be shown,
Alas! to me?
How often, to myself unknown,
The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid
Have I admired! How often said—
What joy to call a heart like hers one’s own!
But, flattering god,
O squanderer of content and ease
In thy abode
Will care’s rude lesson learn to please?
O say, deceiver, hast thou won
Proud Fortune to attend thy throne,
Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees?
4k
The perfect woman
is beautiful, of course
but not too beautiful,
( enough to be objectify-able
but not so much as to be threatening)
The perfect woman
has a voice and a mind
( that she wisely decides
to leave behind)
The perfect woman
should never be heard
( unless she becomes
a part of the herd)
The perfect woman
Is benign and blind
( to everyone's faults
except her own,
which also, btw, she ought to make known,
or god forbid, she'll be harkened a *****
How rude.....)
The perfect woman
Is coy and shy
(changing her demeanor
for a girl or a guy)
The perfect woman
Does nothing wrong (yeah right)
(and still doesn't get
why she can't belong)
The perfect woman
Knows her salad forks and plates
She encourages, she nourishes
She creates,
(she waits, she waits , she waits)
The perfect woman
is an overachiever
(but readily labeled
to be a deceiver)
The perfect woman
doesn't age
doesn't dream or rebel
Oh no, dear no....
none of that outrage
The perfect woman
can be a nymph and a nun
(knows how to not show
that she knows what is fun)
The perfect woman,
is curvy but thin
each angle defined
each strand refined
with a dazzling smile
and a glowing skin
(no matter how she gets it
It's that she gets it, she gets it.)
The perfect woman
Is strong and composed
But when she's patronized
She doesn't resist...
She carries her grace
on her well turned calf
and a delicate wrist
Till it's proper and unopposed
The perfect woman
is cruel to her daughter
and kind to her son
( as she knows what it means
to be a woman
even if she forgets
that she's also one...)
The perfect woman
doesn't want to be free
you see, it's simple
She's come to terms with the very concept
That it's her destiny
Sigh.
Let's say this, let's try....
Here's the gist
The perfect woman
is either every woman
or she doesn't exist.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
I am the orchestrator of my own destruction.
For it is I who reins down fire on my own temple,
And it is I who salts the earth so the seeds of good intentions will never grow.
When the turmoil on the inside is hidden by the calm exterior,
It is I who tears down the beautiful façade to reveal the churning black poison underneath.
When the polite smile shows only an angels face,
It is I who cries out “Deceiver!” and rips away the mask to expose the devil within.
For I am the orchestrator of my own destruction
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
It's been a while since i saw that beautiful smile
Seems so long that i can't even distinguish the truth from the lie
It's been ages since i heard that painful sigh
Seems so sad that you feel disgusted by my sight
I've done things i can't explain from the past
Cause dear, i thought it would be easier and the feelings won't last
I'd left you without explaining the truth
The real reason i should have told you while I could
Fate acted like it's the one who'd save the destroyed affair
Making you look like a fool and me, a relationship deceiver
And now, I can't make you listen
Because you want a revenge for us to be even
I know i deserved worse than your cold treatment
I just wish that for once i can make you listen
I've missed your smile and now i can't see that
But dear, I just wish that it would be real and we'll be fine
This is nobody's fault but mine
I've been so coward and weak from time to time
I'd tell you lies for you to hate me more
Now i am apologizing for what i didn't stand up for
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
You hide in plain sight as does day when engulfed by night
For darkness is simply…. The absence of light
You claim to have special enlightenment
And that your knowledge is for the better good of the people
Pledge your allegiance and your success will be imminent
Break your pledge and your death will be discrete
So why would you become part of something so “elite”?
With only one thing in mind; to see the human race in defeat.
An interminable amount of subliminal messages
Hinting at events that are destructive, demoralizing, and deceptive.
9/11… was it really an act of terrorism?
Or was it just an evil plot… something you guys expected?
Al-quaeda and the Taliban… roaming around in the lands of Iran
But on the land I walk some say it’s a misperception
Just a façade in our brain so the government secrets are protected.
Michael Jackson… and the Kennedy assassination
Were they both untimely events in American history?
Ghandi, The King, Malcolm X, Princess Diana, Shakur,
Paul, Marley, the Kennedys’, Lennon, Fredinand, Lincoln!!
All of whom were either at your feet or tried to make your secret secrete
These deaths… from assassination to suicide… were all… “unfortunate” to the human eye?
Or were they “fortunate” for the Eye of the Beholder?
But why go to such great extent to have these powerful and influential people wiped from the human race?
To keep a secret that has been soooo well kept for hundreds of years?
A secret society that is not so discrete… anymore
Hidden in plain sight and away from the human eye…..
Trying to keep a disguise that will lead to our eventual demise
You aren’t doing the world any favors
By keeping an explicitly intricate order in store
You’re favoring your own world under one order
By intricately deceiving the minds of innocent citizens
So, you hide in plain sight, the light of the earth
A light you hope one day becomes permanently dark
Cause once again, darkness is only the absence of light.
With no light, we will be forced at the feet of your might
Despite a fight, with no light and your might, we’re all just mites stuck on your flight of new world order.
Well let me just end on this… **** THE ILLUMINATI!
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
Harm no one, the inevitable thought of a miniscule Agamemnon,
The insufferable, the pious, the deceiver,
And the devout, the sheep, the lamb,
Lead me I follow, Follow me I will train you,
Despicable, For here there is only nothingness disguised as a cruel sacrifice,
I believe in nothing, in circles, in patterns, in physics, in atoms within atoms, in life that studies itself,
I believe in the arts, in music, in poetry, in dreams that are breathed into existence through an artists touch,
I believe in family, in pure love, in unconditional acceptance, in forgiveness and the cultivation of hope,
I believe in people, who's emotions rage like the sea, who's ideas raise whole cities, who's dreams are to find peace and understanding, who sometimes are misled but are never beyond the good within themselves,
I believe in life, in growth, in the earth, the mother of us all and the sun, the father that watches his children basking in his warmth, I believe in trees that give us oxygen and water that gives us life.
And so I believe in the underdog, the unseen, the overlooked, the underrated, and the unappreciated, I believe in the here and now, the present moment, the kiss, the dance, the wine, and the open hand. There is nothing of your cold religion, or your angry god that I need. Because life is all around me and beauty is in all things here and now and forever.
Space spirals on and the river of time still flows in all directions, it is eternal this holy thing and it is without end, no mans demonic godhead will ever bring it down and this disease called religion will eventually be cured.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
They say it's the distance that kills the flame
Puff sizzle and pop
The dying ember of love screaming its last breath
To the stars
The moon
Heavens ears are muted
These wailing screeching tryst
Happen daily
Yearly
The product of love that laid to close
Curdling like sour milk in the jealous heart
Burning like rancid acid
Chinese water torture to the brain
Maddening mundanity to fill the void of meaning
Like monkeys their minds seek to dull it's own screams
Love left rotting
Stinking in the distance that dragged it further spreading the filth
But the distance isn't the deceiver at least one can see the evidence of betrayal
Before it sneaks behind
And stabs them with their own thoughts
Confuse them with their own feelings
And drag them under to feast on their own flesh
No distance doesn't ******
It is the heart that deceives
It is the heart that renders false reality
Blinds the eyes to its own pain
And tricks the tongue to speak
Where it has no place
It is the heart that is its own martyr
The godly victim
Whom's motive is selfish
To **** what wounds it
But it's justice is the death of itself
And these sheets held love
Whispered melting
Scalding devotions
Held the iron hot to brand itself the dutiful
But in obligation left once more
Leaving blood fresh
The heart murdered once more
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
would that capability
did not exceed the concept of a task
were that tasks did not multiplay
err, the capabilities of the deceiver
the greatest con
stipation
is wished on the least
flatulent
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
My name is not romantic
neither is it fantastic
I am in the midst of men
commanding all human
I caused man a lot
Many suffer because of me
Others die because of me
Nothing Can be done without me
Everything is done by me
I break the chain of unity
Mean couples divorce because of my absence
When my voice speaks
it shuts all the mouths of truth
Those who have me in abundance
Turns to command respect and prestige
from those who search for me with courage
without knowing I disappoint the trust of a man
My searchers are my manufacturers
my lovers are those I lynched silently
I pray people don't recognize my inner self
because I am toxic and made from that
which I am
Am I not like the light?
makes the path clear in the dark
for all human to follow
I can't forget myself that
All that glitters not gold
It would have been better for man
to search for love and wisdom
than wasting precious time
killing and dying for me
I am only a deceiver of souls
making them believe my absence is a curse
so they can hurt and hate to purify their souls
but it is difficult to wake up the person not sleeping
How I hate those who handle me with their conscience
Helping others to recognize they can be happy without me
How I hate those who think I am not all about the world
Making others not to value me
I am the only voice of the world and
I am the only killer of the body and soul
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
When a mountain
I dare not climb
the ropes and tackles
are in abundance
In great shape
my body and mind
Not a weak link
in the expedition
But when a mountain
I dare to climb
the ropes and tackles
are often misplaced
Out of shape
my body and mind
Weakness as a
spell does bind
Hopes and dreams
of tireless youth can
be all but forgotten
in the spiritually aged
Strength the glittering
cloak of youth can
fade in weakening
jaded resolve
But in me common
traits dissolve
The bucking steed
will never be tamed
Pigeon-holed the
misfortune of other
souls has not been
allowed by my resolve
But this determination
is not without cost
The foothills of youth
are far removed
by erosion caused by
unstable belief systems
washed away into
the Sea of Ambiguity
A distant mountain
I often see
(distance the deceiver
of proportion)
Challenged at the foot
of the formidable sight
halfway climbing
only to slip and fall
Does this mountain
need to be climbed
Do youthful dreams
need to be fulfilled
When these dreams
are all you ever had
you wake up falling
or climbing higher
Driven by dreams
and gifts and talents
that rage like a river
in the driest desert
calling home what
must come home
holding on to what
must be fulfilled
Obstacles that have
become landmarks
seem to fade
into obscurity
like threats that
always remain empty
laughing at what
used to bring tears
I remain standing
through all these trials
not unscathed
and a bit weather beaten
halfway up another
formidable mountain
making up for lost time
from a major fall.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
The Poet is the language,the mystery of Monalisa's smile,
the brush of Caravaggio and the finest painting of Vangogh.
The Poet is the sonnet of Mozart anf the symphony of Bach,
a tragedy of Shakespeare and the saddest verse of Pablo Neruda.
The Poet is the blue Danube in waltz and the Swan Lake in Ballet.
The Poet is the renaissance of passion and the remnant of life,
the dilemma of morality,the shadow of deed,and the ombra of sin.
The Poet is the fantasy of each Sunrise and the illusion of every Sunset,
the wave in tide of wishes,carried in a bottle to dune drunk shore.
The Poet is the believer, dream lover in a hot passionate crazy affair,
the magician who creates fables and fairytales from a deadly reality.
The Poet is the worker who works and works to survive,to cope in this
demanding,sophisticated,stigmatic concrete hypocratic world.
The Poet is the thief of time,with eyes flutterin on late nights,
Still loyal to the pen,His thoughts in verse,bleedin fragranted words.
The Poet is an Omnipotent servant,with a will to ask and crave to learn.
A Philosopher,whose always an amateur in the pursuit of wisdom.
The Poet is an eternal slave of His Muse,the beverage of inspiration,
the spouse married to literature,adulterer of lyric,deceiver of prose.
He Knows no lapsus in all that is scandalous,royalty or sacred.
He is the artist, musician, actor,the clairvoyant of destined paths.
He is the cheap clay's mold,carved in the sculpture of the next century.
The Poet is the unfinished book,the chapter in yesterday,
He is the Nobody of today and the bookmark of tomorrow.
T H E POET IS YOU ! ! !
Nov 6, 2010
Nov 6, 2010 at 10:29 PM UTC
Union and Grand
I moved into this house less than a year ago
and already three gun related murders have occurred
within a three block radius; two of them involving children.
I'm not making this **** up.
Those numbers wouldn't be anything exciting for a population
hitting upwards of the millions,
but this is not a big city.
This is the heartland.
-
The city paid for a series of strategically placed dead ends,
forced turns, and surveillance equipment to be installed
in the area of about a mile surrounding my house.
No wonder they call this place "The Trap".
They keep changing the maze,
and studying us like rats.
-
They had a make-do memorial for the little girl who got shot.
They attached her stuffed animals, cards, and photos to a utility pole
on the corner of Union and Grand. The city had it taken down.
Some kind of city ordinance
from some dusty tome at the town hall.
Kids killing kids, and the shots keep firing.
-
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not what'd you call an activist.
But when bloodshed occurs within eye shot of where you sleep,
you start to get a little irked.
These kids have as much potential as me, and twice as much grit.
Their teachers barely even know their names,
let alone what it's like to be deprived of privilege.
-
I'll stomp this concrete until my feet break.
This labyrinth is my constant reminder and reality check.
I am here, and you are there.
This connection is suspended on silver threads and I am your puppet.
Mold me into your angst driven dreamboat.
Because tomorrow, I'm just going to wake up here. Tyler.
-
This soul has been folded seven times
and I grow tired of this reality.
There was a time when I could scream loud enough to wake the dead.
I guess I'm showing the symptoms
of an accidental child
with a tongue that only tastes art as bitter protest.
-
I'd tear my face off
to know if this is really getting through to you.
The face in the photo is that of the goat; the false idol and deceiver.
A Knight of Pentacles, selling you gold plated garbage.
Odin-kin.
You always feel like I have a secret to keep; my fist is in the air.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
In fairytales and fantasies,
My parents would always say,
That a Magician so talented,
Would someday find his way.
And what way should he seek?
In fields of dust and harrowed meek,
And in his path he should depart,
Into my beating heart.
But he is a Magician after all,
A bewitcher, a deceiver, a devil at the ball.
Who tricked and hoaxed me,
By the time of nightfall.
So curse you Magician,
And the lies you have said,
After all your trickery,
Was that you never cared.
J.F.B
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
The memories, the dreams
Spinning rings
silver and gold
those flashy things
I'd remember when old
gowns and caps
the attire of the achiever
I survived the traps
and the grand deceiver
graduation
prom
the grand tradition
even my mom..
I am the first
of my line
to give up on thirst
and mock the divine.
I am a dropout
I chose the hard way
to live without
what those papers say.
Reality
I live my life with a knife in my chest
bleeding my heart out you all know the rest
I hurt my beloved by not being there
even if I really did care.
I tried my hardest, it wasn't enough
I did my best to be tough
I can't give you 200% of a whole
even if it were my only goal
after all, you trained me as a robot
just like everyone else, all forgot
who I was, the second I left
I've tossed and turned and wept.
The memories, the dreams
torn away from me
ripped apart at the seams
and tossed to the sea.
Today was prom night
and I stayed home again
no shining light
never again...
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
There's nothing like it.
Bowing my head;
the tears sliding
over my cheeks,
dripping down
into my lap.
I let my chest fill up.
I let my eyes fill up.
I let my head fill up.
Memories.
Torments.
Loneliness.
These things
take me over,
flooding my mind
with the mistakes
I've made;
the awful person
I've become.
Cheater
Liar
Deceiver.
I beat myself,
daily,
for the things I've done
for the things I do.
I cannot stop,
I am driven
to fail
those I love most.
I'm so good,
I can lie
to anyone;
pulling the wool over their eyes,
belief built on
faith, trust and denial.
I am this
heartless creature,
selfish to the core.
The lies I tell,
no one questions,
not even
me.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Hey, you.
Yeah, you. The liar.
The deceiver.
The faker.
Guess what?
I see you.
I see right through your fake bloom.
No plant is always green.
Green and motionless,
Gathering dust in the corner.
It's really not hard.
Anyone who gets close enough can see you're fake.
I don't care how lifelike you are.
You're still made of plastic in the end.
The beauty of a wilted blossom is foreign to you.
Move along.
I want nothing with you.
Or those who set you up to show.
Give me the real thing.
A flower that takes watering,
And that will eventually die.
Not this fake plastic imitation.
No, give me fleeting life,
Not the lie of immortality and perfection.
At first I thought you looked good.
Thought I'd like you around.
But your greens have become sickly,
Your reds and blues dim,
Covered with a film of dust.
Only the dead gather dust like that.
Stop smiling.
Stop laughing.
Stop talking.
Start thinking,
Start breathing.
Start living.
Maybe then we'll be friends.
Maybe then it will work.
Not until then.
No for now, keep moving.
Cause I see you.
Clear as day.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
I changed a few Christmas' back
From a grinch to a believer
I realized one special day
Santa Claus was not a deceiver
I was working at my job one day
Playing Santa for the staff
Confounding all the customers
And making children laugh
Not many knew that it was me
Dressed as Santa Claus that day
And it changed the way I acted
I had carte blanche to play
Wearing the suit is not a task
It's an honor to be sure
It brings out your inner Christmas
And it opens up a door
A door to something buried
Cynicism, of man's greed
Wear a Santa Suit and you
Will get all the faith you need
A child had been watching me
I'd been watching her some too
She came and said "I don't believe"
She said "It's because I am a Jew"
I must admit this startled me
So I got down on one knee
I said "You may not believe in Christmas"
"But, I'm sure you believe in me"
I gave the girl a candy cane
For, I knew she wanted that
And the suit brought out my Inner Claus
It pulled some magic from it's hat
I said "do you believe in what you see"
She said she did, I'd sealed the deal
I held my hand for her to touch
"And my hand, does it feel real?"
She smiled and she said it did
Then I laughed at her because
The look that spread across her face
said "You are, you are Santa Claus"
At this point her brother came
And said "It's just some one in a suit"
I must admit, I wanted to just
give this lad a boot
I gave the girl two candy canes
One for her and for her brother
I told her to say it's from me
When they checked out with their Mother
She hugged me, said "I know you're real"
And she gave me one hug more
And when she went to find her mum
I left through a secret door
I stood and watched the little girl
give the candy to her brother
She said it was from Santa Claus
To the consternation of her mother
He turned around to look for me
But, I was not around
I'd left you see, and was watching him
To him I'd not be found
The look I saw upon his face
When he noticed I was gone
Was confusion, for I'd not gone past
Christmas magic had been done
I wore the suit a few more times
And I must admit because
Once you wear the Santa Suit
You are always Santa Claus.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC