Thursday, September 27

Poetry slam tonight

So, there's a poetry slam tonight. I wrote a new poem, but I'm not sure if it's ready.
Feel free to let me know what you think.

When, my friend,
When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?
When did Christmas change?
When did they say the North Pole is cold and lonely and no one cares about you?

Because for me, it never really took, those unbeliefs.

Haven’t you heard?
Jesus wasn’t born in December.
Haven’t you heard?
The 25th is not his birthday.
Haven’t you heard?
Santa is an anagram for Santa.
And Christmas is a hoax.
It’s a pagan festival, a Dionsyiun orgy,
coopted by the church.
Baptizing children in a frenzy of capitalism and lies.

But for me, it never really took, those unbeliefs.

Call me naive.
I believe in everything.
I believe in all of it.
I believe in Santa.
I believe in Bacchus.
I believe in Jesus.
I believe in Dionysus.
I bleieve in Kali and Kwannyin.
I believe in the seen and the unseen.
I believe in God and the gods
and their love of life and joy
and happiness and mashed avocados
and eggnog, whiskey, wine and beer.
Surprise parties and angels singing
and people rising from the dead,
waterfalls and pots of gold
and gourmet finger food
and God loves a good party.
My God always loves a good party.

For me, it never really took, those unbeliefs.

Rejoice and celebrate.
I believe that poets who live in glass houses
should dance naked.
I believe that poets should live in glass houses.
I believe in you and I believe in me.
I bathe in wishing wells,
dreaming about us.
All I want for Christmas is you.
All I want for Christmas is for you to believe.
All I want for Christmas is for you to scream out in joy.
to laugh and smile and dance.

I call upon the elves and their toys.
I call upon the angels of joy.
I call upon the reindeer and the snowmen.
I call upon Scrooge and the Grinch.
I call upon George Bailey and Tiny Tim.
I call upon Santa and Mrs. Claus, soaped up and making love in their hot tub.
I call upon Bacchus and Dionysus.
The ghosts of Christmas past, present and future are watching and hoping and wishing that you would be happy and filled with joy.

We have power over darkness. We have power over despair. We have power we have hope and our happiness comes from within.
It doesn't matter what they said. It matters what you believe. It matters that you believe.

All I’m asking for from Santa Claus, all I'm asking for this Christmas, is for you to believe in him, believe in you, believe in us. Believe in miracles and joy. My friend, don't stop believing.

3 Comments:

Blogger Jim Evans said...

I like it.
Satan?
I suspend disbelief to feel the spirit.

September 27, 2007 6:46 PM  
Blogger R said...

I like that Santa is an anagram for Santa.

Last week when I decorated for Halloween, some friends rolled their eyes and said as long as I didn't put up Christmas decorations that early, it was okay...

September 28, 2007 10:54 AM  
Blogger Vajra said...

Love this poem.

I believe in the friendly beasts.

September 28, 2007 6:35 PM  

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