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Poem

It's a new day, a new Christmas eve party streaming live
 when Santa had to drink, Kahlua and cream, tequila to survive
to warm him up, have a little trust that the world is still alive
 as covid-19, coronavirus shiver, quiver all his vibes.

There's the tree, decorated with syringes and vaccines
 goodwill is sparing, feelings and emotions quite mean
but Washington is well and quite alive ringing the Wall street bells
 lying, deluded, and denying the party's really going quite well.

There are Mitch and Lindsay, Jim Jordan and Matt Gaetz
 waiting for the Donald, bowing is never too late, don't hesitate
to do the last tango in White House once hallowed halls, 
 whimpering and shouting, demanding for election recalls.

It's all  unfair, fake news they create to dispute the majority at will
 ready to secure their historic infamous places on the hill
and Santa (he doesn't really exist), don't resist
 as he slips in quiet, cautious as a mouse thru the house
 without a present for these lice, foolish integrity deprived louse.

They bully and they banter slipping in and out of reality and time
 not one Christmas gift beneath the tree will they find.

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