SANTA AND THE SECOND CLASS TROLL

Where does Santa get his toys?

They are made by elves for good girls and boys,

And, for boys and girls who are really bad,

They get lumps of coal then, they feel sad,

Where does Santa get his lumps of coal?

From deep shaft mines worked by a creature called troll,

And, while elves get a golden toy factory pass,

Trolls work deep in the earth like a true second-class,

Now, old Santa is a jolly old elf,

And, he promotes the ones who are just like himself,

 But, he does provide jobs for those who work underground,

In mines that are cited as unsafe and unsound,

Yet, the trolls do not live a life of quiet despair,

Instead, they plot revolution to make society fair,

Now, on Christmas morning when you get your big lump of coal,

Remember, the coal came from the toils of the second-class troll.

First Published Dec 19, 2014

DEATH BY CYBER EXPLOSION

I got killed by a rouge, cyber truck, today,

My silly, old soul has done, floated away,

There was a big crash,

An explosion, a flash,

Birds cleanup my pieces, the red and charred grey. .

IT WAS A COUPLE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS POEM

It was a couple days before Christmas,
My wife's psycho dogs quacked like ducks,
And, I thought to myself,
Every Christmas it sucks,

I was out in my driveway,
Shoveling three feet of snow,
When I heard right behind me,
My molter-in-law growling "Ho, Ho,"

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"Catch this you bum,"
She shouted at me,
So, I turned about,
And, what did I see,

I looked up to the sky,
And, what should appear,
But, a two liter glass bottle,
All empty of beer,

The bottle smacked  my head,
My face gushed out blood,
I fell into the snow,
With a groan and a thud,

The next thing that I tell you,
Was really quite neat,
I awoke in a hospital,
It smelled a sanitized sweet,

A nurse hovered over me,
And, she was no ug,
She fluffed up my pillow,
And, gave me a hug,

"Oh you poor dear,"
She said unto me,
"You'll be in the hospital,
Two months maybe three,"

The  room service was great,
I ate like a king,
And, I didn't have to do,
One dog gone thing,

My wife sued for divorce,
And, with her mother moved away,
To live in New York,
Or, was it L.A.?

So, I married my nurse,
I don't have to work,
She has a good job,
And, that's such a perk,

Well, as for each Christmas,
On one thing I pass,
I  drink beer from quart cans,
Never two-liter glass,

I WALK WITH THE DEAD BRAIN MAJORITY

 I voted for the idol, bro-love, billionaire dude,

Now I will be paying more for my shelter and food,

When I have not any heat,

My dead, froze feet, I will eat,

And, I will still be in a leader, worshiping mood.