- Christmas is America,
- And America, Christmas
- It's commerce nirvana,
- And financial bliss-ness;
- A profit-based thing,
- Mandated and enforced
- By TV, and Wall Street,
- And charge-card remorse.
-
- Oh, where are the carols,
- In lyrical rhyme?
- Drowned out by hip-hop,
- And wailing whine;
- Where are the kiddies,
- All snug in their beds?
- Out riding skateboards,
- And piercing their heads.
-
- Christmas is madness,
- And madness is Christmas
- It's manic and panic,
- And lunatic business;
- It's plastic and Mylar,
- And fake paper branches,
- And trees that are slaughtered
- At Christmas-tree ranches.
-
- On Dasher, and Dollar,
- And Avarice, Greed,
- On Cunning, and Mark-up,
- And Hallmark Card screed;
- To the top of the heap,
- To cackle and sneer
- At the poor slobs gone bankrupt
- On holiday cheer.
-
- Christmas is crisis,
- And crisis is Christmas
- What chance has peace
- Against rancor and bitchiness?
- The pressure is on
- To be sweet and convivial
- Till everyone's nuts
- Over anything trivial.
-
- Oh come, all ye Big Gulps,
- And SUVs brimming
- With women on cell phones
- And holiday trimming;
- Fight for those iPods
- Through shopping mall mess,
- Oh come ye, Oh come ye,
- To Ross Dress For Less.
-
- Christmas is excess,
- And excess is Christmas
- Your last dollar clutched
- In sweat-slimy fist-ness;
- C'est la vie, come-what-may,
- Fa-la-la, la-de-da,
- Your bills are postponed
- Till next spring, so hoorah!
-
- It used to be sweet,
- All the holiday charm,
- When folks were cut off
- From the make-a-buck smarm;
- Yule logs and carols,
- And long popcorn strings
- Were all that were needed
- To make the heart sing.
-
- Christmas is goofy,
- And goofy is Christmas
- With toy trees that talk,
- And whirl with dervish-ness;
- Where Santa Claus rocks
- To a funky rap bass,
- Singing, "Yo!" and "Get down!"
- "Jingle bell in yo' face!"
-
- With 90-proof nog
- And six-packs of beer,
- Some drown their sorrows
- In cheap Christmas cheer;
- Alone or depressed,
- It just feels worse
- When the fat man in red suit
- Comes 'round like a curse.
-
- Christmas is garbage,
- And garbage is Christmas,
- X-mas-morn trash
- Was Xmas-eve richness;
- Ribbons and gift-wrap
- And festive decor
- Will soon decorate
- The big dumpster next door.
-
- How did folks change,
- And get so transformed
- Into points on demographers'
- Marketing score?
- Are we hapless consumers,
- Such unthinking saps,
- That we fall every year
- For this same sorry crap?
-
- Christmas is envy,
- And envy is Christmas,
- Where the sad and disgruntled
- Throw jealous hiss-fit-ness;
- Now Kwanzaa and Chanukah
- Are industries, too,
- As if there weren't enough
- Bankbooks to woo.
-
- And so we are left
- With such hollow occasion,
- Part pageant, part purchase,
- All shallow sensation;
- The emptiest thrills
- That money can buy,
- The "what" part of Christmas,
- With none of the "why."
-
- Christmas is dreaded,
- And dreaded is Christmas
- By all those who yearn
- For times not like this-ness;
- Who wish they could still hang
- Their stockings with care,
- And hope that St. Nicholas
- Soon would be there.
-
- There are a few souls
- Who somehow still manage
- To avoid all the hype
- And the pocketbook ravage;
- Who carry themselves
- With sense and kind spirit
- Every day, let alone
- In the Yuletide and near it.
-
- But they're mocked and ignored,
- Trampled and jeered at
- By the money machine,
- And all that it's steered at;
- Integrity, civility,
- Discretion, and grace,
- Attacked by a world
- On which profit is based.
-
- Christmas is ironic,
- Ironic is Christmas;
- Humans consumed
- With themselves and their gift-ness
- Stay home, self-indulged,
- Expanding their girth
- And for hours, at least,
- There's some peace here on Earth.
-
- ---Rajendra V. Bavnani
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