Long Humbug Poems
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written twelve years ago
when yours truly about two score
and twelve years old,
and fishy financial fiasco
about twenty six weeks
before being scalloped
courtesy villainous fraudster
otherwise known as scam artists,
blithely, glibly, and pliantly
fleeced with shear trickery
my coveted nest egg.
TO: TWO PRECIOUS HARRIS LASSES
WHO LIVE ON GREENTREE LANE
THIS FAST APPROACHING CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY
AS WILL READILY BECAME PLAIN
RECEIVED A SPARTAN GOVERNMENT LARGESSE
WHICH AFFORDS PRESENT
ONLY ONE BOX OF COAL APIECE
DISAPPOINTMENT THIS PA
HUMBUG HO HUM FELLOW
WILL TRY TO EXPLAIN.
OUTRAGEOUS COSTS
TO CLOTHE ELVES
WHAT WITH DESIGNER CLOTHES
AND THE LATEST TECHNOLOGICAL GIZMO
NEARLY BROKE THE PIGGY BANK
IN ADDITION TO FEED THE REINDEER
COMPOSED OF BUCKS AND DOES
THIS I TELL YOU
TO BE EARNEST AND FRANK
WHICH GRUELING BUSINESS
NEARLY FOUND LITTLE ASS(ETS) FROZE
THIS GOVERNMENT ACTION
NO HALLOWEEN PRANK
NEARLY FOUND ME BEHIND BARS
ADDING TO UNFORTUNATE WOES.
SMALL TOKENS ACQUIRED
BY THE ABILITY TO SCRIMP AND SAVE
A PITTANCE COMPARED
TO LAST YULETIDE
YET NO INTENT TO BE MEAN SPIRITED
NOR RANT OR RAVE
FOR BOUNDLESS LOVE SPILLS FORTH
FROM SENSITIVE PRIDE
NO MATTER SOME
PERCEIVE ME UNSAINTLY
PURSE NICKETY KNAVE
RANK AS A WORSE CREATION
THAN FRANKENSTEIN’S BRIDE.
TRY TO REMEMBER
TIS THE THOUGHT
FROM WITHIN TO GIVE EACH
AND EXTEND THE SPIRIT
OF GOOD CHEER
THAT COUNTS MORE
THAN SPEND LAVISHLY
AND TO REALLY TEACH
SO CHERISH EACH
AND EVERY MOMENT
WITH PASSION TO SPARE.
NOW ONWARD AND UPWARD HO
WITH THE SOUND OF SLEIGH BELLS
BACK TO THE NORTH POLE
THIS POOPED OUT HERD WILL GO
AND THE EXPECTED GIFT
FROM THE MISSUS A LUMP OF COAL
PLUS A LAUNDRY LIST
OF DUTIES PERFORMED
WHILE ENDURING TEMPERATURES
(INCLUDING WIND CHILL FACTOR)
THAT FEEL LIKE…
WELL BELOW ONE HUNDRED BELOW.
Christmas is a confusing time for children.
I don’t know if you think that?
Cos everything we teach through the year,
Gets turned upon its hat
‘Don’t talk to strangers’ or ‘accept sweets...
From people you don’t know.’
But Christmas time we send them off.
‘Sit on his knee - now go…’
‘Don’t ask for gifts of anyone,
You know it’s not polite’
‘But ask him in the red coat
You may get it Christmas night.’
Santa comes to all the children
On this one magical night of the year
But not to poor children it seems,
They still share nothing but tears.
They are obviously not good children
This teaches that message to others
If you are poor people donate,
cos Santa’s busy with other girls and their brothers.
‘Don’t tell lies – it’s very bad.’
Santa will not bring you any gifts.’
But you have taught he comes down the chimney,
He doesn’t even use the lifts.
‘Good children are the only ones
To receive gifts on Christmas day’
But the evil little boy next door
Gets a new bike on which to play.
So why do we confuse our kids,
It’s not honest or good you know
Because you are the first liar to them
When the truth they get to know.
Children need to look to you
For guidance and the truth
It’s the same as teaching of fairies
Leaving money, for a baby tooth.
Some will say I am humbug,
And maybe that is true
But in this enlightened world
What are we supposed to do?
Christmas is now looming
And charity begins at home
So Santa please I have been good,
Can I have that mobile phone?
© GG 15/12/2103
Daiya vegan non dairy cheesecake - oh yum!
Hard knocks Methacton school alum
ofttimes finds ruing his fate
while squarely planted on me bum
disheveled and unshaven,
whereby gray stubble encrusted
with wayward synonymous days old crumb -
after wolfing delectable entitled treat
buttered fingers drubbing upon tabletop
analogous to playing a drum
oy vey, yours truly cannot believe
he ate the whole thing -
argh... my poor tum.
ALDI GIANT supermarkets
(within small radius of miles
from me Schwenksville, Penna abode)
sell delicious delectable treat
goading, inspiring, and spurring me
to craft poem essentially
patronizing manufacturer,
whose skilled food technicians
engineered absolute winning dessert
courtesy their natural born talent
schooled (most likely at culinary institute)
possibly supplemented insync
with advanced degrees
at other institutions of higher learning
after various and sundry
trials and error
concocting mouthwatering secret recipe.
Lemme use hypothetical situation
to accent chew ate,
how alluded dessert tastes great,
especially when rumble in tumbly
clamors for glorious goody
regarding appetite to satiate
unfortunately circumstances
force your truly to wait.
If (the following
constitutes far fetched scenario)
stranded on a desert island,
I after falling to Earth
when parachute fails to open,
weighed down by an excess of
Daiya vegan non dairy cheesecakes,
would finagle an empty pie tin
to signal an SOS.
If left to my own devices,
(where you dear reader
would discover one humbug),
I would be forced to scrounge around
rubbing two sticks together
to create warmth
plus distilling oils -
derived from edible herbaceous plants,
whence I would ejaculate
(not prematurely) - olé
to sauté said greens with wild mushrooms.
Samael: "The orchard is open to omphaloses the stables are Sable's cheery O's and so cereal of woodwork, is fairy cereal so bold."
Uraeal: "I open the gates true north crashes down, the hell of highwater is where the shark surely drowned, but the westward gate is closed and so is the east and the south closes now, like heathery feasts.
The Pro: "Should be palaver again, the moon bright the brittle bread?"
Samara: "I bred in this fire, I tire of liars who are of the sort who won't kindle my fire."
Gladius: "The other festoon is under thine eyes, like he needn't cross-work on crosswords for prized possession, taken by the ghoul of Mary sent brethren."
Aurora: "If the course if taken by the northmost gate, let golden rakes fill the plates."
Helel: "Should we wait for the north gate to crumble, before he humbug the buggie and send swallows aflutter?"
(Anonymized character) "I created once before now I was become death, the pita bread moon like the harvest moon's friend."
---End of act V---
Whatever happened to the twelve o ‘clock rambler,
nocturnal venturesome brushstroke sort,
they face whirlwind snowfall, freezing ice,
while others brazenly squirm,
not for stoic diarist this threadbare exit,
exodus of the half-hearted humbug,
but ironclad ilk stubbornly remain,
eyes and ears are substitute antennas,
of this genus, genie, genius, glow worm ghost,
peaceful prowlers with pen on queue,
velvet moon worlds sidereal captured,
crescendo of cathartic bonhomie,
icy night frost punctured by high drive fog horns,
deft nib from dark ink manteau nomad,
who engross themselves in light and shade reflection,
as we balk at the eerie life we revel in,
drama under bridges, shadow figure chinwag,
river stream babble, blind alley gust,
eavesdrop on historic past teaser,
litter swept aural gossip whoosh,
eventide mournful dog bark heart tug,
darting elfin’s sly mind peep thereon,
yet the vagabond minstrel has to comb,
each backstreet, zebra crossing, sprawling suburb,
for inert sleepy after hour dozers,
who crave eye candy fodder as humdrum sidestep
Why do you do it? Scrooge asks Santa.
What? Santa asks.
All that ho ho ho, Christmas cheer, Scrooge says.
Bah humbug I say.
Santa ponders how to reply,
knowing he will not convert Scrooge,
but wanting him to understand.
Why don’t you do a ride along? He invites Scrooge.
Pull an all-nighter?
Jump down chimneys?
You are kidding, right?
You might enjoy it, Santa says.
Scrooge laughs his feet off.
His laughter is a kind of injured howl.
Who has hurt you? Santa asks gently.
Scrooge stops in mid howl and tears begin.
Let’s start with babies, Santa says.
What do you mean? Scrooge asks, sniffling.
You’ll see. Santa has a big grin.
He has a great idea in mind.
They start at the nursery school down the lane.
All of the babies need to be held, an elf woman tells them.
She hands them both a crying infant and points to two rocking chairs.
Scrooge is astounded; he has never held a baby!
He and Santa sit, and they begin to rock.
Scrooge’s baby quiets down, her eyes close.
He feels loved, cherished, needed.
I get it now, he tells Santa.
Oh, don’t flatter me with presents from the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Tis the season for nostalgia, but those feelings never last.
It’s a gift-wrapped empty promise not worth tuppence on the street,
Or a ticket to the opera when you’ve nothing left to eat.
Oh, don’t weary me with visions from the Ghost of Christmas Gone.
It’s a fairy tale for paupers who’ll be just as poor come dawn.
I’ve no sympathy for indolence, nor ignorance and want.
If you’re looking for compassion, find another bank to haunt.
Oh, don’t bother me with worries from the Ghost of Christmas Done.
Send those children of the gutter to the workhouse, every one!
Put their noses to the grindstone in a more productive game;
Earning porridge making bootstraps for the barefoot and the lame.
Oh, don’t humbug me with pleadings from the Ghost of Christmas Lost.
Sir, the figures on my balance sheet won’t justify the cost.
So, our business is concluded and I’m free to wash my hands.
Tell the Sisters of St. Alban’s, the eviction notice stands!
If you are in the support bubble
You can go out not being considered trouble
Whining and dining
No worries for fining
But what happens if your relationship is declining
Could you end up behind bars due to not having the right timing?
Getting rejected holding a bottle of wine
And stuttering an embarressing first line
It is the holiday when we celebrate the banker
But what about the lonely wanker
Desperately needing an honest shot to thank her
Surely this is not the right way
Instead we are supposed to say
Welcome here, enjoy the stay
A viral infection has us under control
Our health threatened by a nasty cold
Social lives are under fire
Partying being investigated and inquired
Do not answer the RSVP bathroom flyer
It could be a trap
Sending you to a 14 day quarantine nap
In greedy tradition
Fulfill this bah humbug mission
Sitting all alone
Bitterness tone
Count the money
Saved since there is no one in life who you call honey
Arriving soon those Dickens’ ghosts
Corona they drank during last St Paddy’s toast
Telling you stay home you are not going to roast
In evil’s oven
Enjoying friendly loving
Hopefully, when the disease run its course
Vaccinating the source
We may come together
Enjoy the festive weather
When greeting the season
Peacefully reminding us there is a reason
For vanity
And humanity
Flirting underneath mistletoe candy
Good reddens to all
Enjoying community communication fall
Putting up this ugly wall
Stronger will abide by the Bobbies law
Peacefully dealing with this powerful destructive call
Eventually leading to a civil war
Terrible tension rooted in its core
Talk first
Let the social bubble burst
Introduce oneself to a stranger
Then maybe plenty rooms will be available at the warm manger
Scratch off everyone who passed away
and those who went astray
those who did not send you one
I know but Blah Humbug! is somewhat fun
Have to send to relatives who are rich
and to all family so no one will b...snitch
and to the one who pays your paycheck
Holiday seasons can be a brown nose l...a doodle do
And for the non Christians on your list
sending Thanksgiving cards is the best
No checks, cash or gift cards in 2022
a greeting is all you can afford to do
Edit twice and how many do you need
looks like your down to two or three
Save on stamps and spit
Looks like it's gonna be a Merry Christmas
Remember the old story about money making the world go around?
Not anymore!
Credit cards are a way of life now.
People have no idea what to do with cash money.
Dirty, hand exchanged money.
Ugh! Who wants that grubby stuff?
Germy, grimy, sneezed on
Bad, cold-infested money.
Yuck!
No one wants to take it.
Knowing the possible germs
It has been exposed to.
Measles chicken pox, mumps probably
All traveled through society on the backs
Of dirty, grimy, greasy, dollar bills.
Credit cards are so much
Crisper, cleaner.
Credit cards for everyone!
At least most of them are
Only handled by one person.
Even my 87-year-old mother
Who swore she would never have a credit card,
Has to have one so she can order on Amazon.
She lives in a small remote town with
Few stores.
Money?
Bah, humbug!
Not for our society.
Credit cards is where it’s at now!