December 20, 2006

The Last Christmas

Filed under: Poetry — crcb @ 7:52 am

Drunk on rumballs, Santa’s
cuffed on Cops, shirtless
in a flurry of curses.

He can’t make bail
with toys and candy canes.
The elves wander off

and succumb to
hypothermia or bears.
Kids of all ages

don’t notice as they rip open
their latest gadgets,
with all the right logos.

Who needs that creepy
reverse burglar?
The reindeer are put down.

Released at last, Santa
can’t get home.
He lives under a bridge,

drinks Mad Dog, finally
gives up and becomes
a greeter at Wal-Mart.

Mrs. Claus dies, cold
and alone. Santa’s liver
explodes the same night.

There’s a small obit
next day. In their memory,
Enjoy Huge Savings.



  1. I like it. Expressed well.


    Comment by Mark — November 1, 2007 @ 10:12 pm | Reply

  2. Thank you. Boy, you’re reading the old stuff!

    Comment by crcb — November 3, 2007 @ 5:42 pm | Reply

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