Imported Poems

I have read most of the regulars latest entries but haven't responded to them. You'll have to forgive me for it or bear bitter resentment - your choice. (-:

You'll have to forgive me for this too: Christmas blew. First though...after three months of perpetual, repetitive Christmas music at work - which made me imagine myself a sociopath who went all "Tell-Tale Heart" and buried the DJ beneath the concrete slab of the backroom - *that* torture ended - and for that, I am truly greatful.

I did think that perhaps my shift was being tested by the American Psychological Association for the long-term effects of unceasing Christmas tunes in individuals, and was determined to discover the breaking point for psychosis, but I did not give them what they wanted. I didn't go crazy. I'm so proud or me. (-:

I did, however, come up with some great horror material for a short story that I might write centering around Christmas. The first concerns workers at a local Walmart/Kmart/whatever who, after three months of solid Christmas music, have psychological breaks with reality and go around killing people on Christmas. This would be the backstory for the short story, which would focus on new workers (perhaps a few old) working during the following Christmas, hearing the same music, over and over again (think Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). It would become a sort of legend, something that would play on the collective unconsciousness/consciousness of that particular society - there are many roads I could take with this one; I won't really know the approach until I think more on it.

I can imagine the trailer for the movie: VOICE OVER: "Just when you thought it was safe to look under the tree..." (child singing 'Santa Clause is coming to town'. A child looks up at Santa Clause standing by the tree and asks 'Are you Santa?' tenuously. Psycho stabbing music starts to play with people screaming in the background). VOICE OVER: "Coming this Christmas: Santa Clause".

Okay, enough for my macabre sense of humor. I had to entertain myself somehow while listening to the 129,745,695 replay of the Muppet's singing "The 12 Days of Christmas".

<Psycho music starts playing the background>

I got a timing belt for my car. That was my Christmas gift. My car is grateful and so am I - but nothing romantic about it.

My son left the following day to stay with my brother in Kentucky for financial reasons. The greatest gift God has ever given me has been taken away. A car is all I have these days - and one wonders why I might be a tad despondent?

I miss him already. Yesterday is the day we would spend together (if he were here) and my soul ached; my son, whose funny personality makes me laugh / cheers me up - wasn't here to make me feel better about him not being here.

Life isn't life; It's just God's 3D Irony.

Speaking of God, he's nowhere to be found in Christmas anymore. It's all massive consumerism. I'm thinking of changing Christ's birthday to something more historically accurate - maybe March, April or May - and celebrating apart from everyone else, so I can focus on the Truth.