There's a wholesome feeling this time of year.
I know not where it comes from, nor do I care.
It bubbles and churns in leaps and in bounds,
Moving around like the tide ebbs and flows.
Some have lost it, some never had it,
And some are clueless about how to use it.
How sad that empty soul that observes all others
Enjoying themselves with joy and with cheer
While they go along with their mocha or beer.
Aurally accosted from left and from right
With music and singing that's seasonally bright.
No escape or end till December the twenty-sixth,
Since all capitalists gaily project it to make profits stick
But joy is good and cheer is great
Reach for it, grab it, embrace it right now!
For too soon it's gone
And three hundred thirty more days will come,
Where it's harder than diamonds to find that love.
Thank Heaven for cultural indoctrination,
That's imbued these feelings into an intangible portion
Of our perception called years!
1 comment:
Brian, I've some slightly sobering news for you:
You're a poet.
Cheers.
Post a Comment