 |
| How I looked when I wrote poetry back then. " GAWD, WHY MEEE...." |
My old poems used to be about my desires and very emo feelings. They were about what I thought love would be like, what constant unrequited crushes felt like (which brings me to my next one)... whining about never getting the guy, and oh yeah, can't forget not being adequate enough for the parentals. Yeah, that was the gist of it. Except for the last one, that still holds pretty strong. Mehh.
Basically, most of the poems I wrote from back then make me want to slap past-tense me across the face and say "SUCK IT UP, EMOTIONAL WRECK. HORMONE OVERLOAD FOR YOU. You'll grow boobs one day and they'll help you have a slightly better chance in the love department... Ever so slightly. But not really. Sorry about the parents though, nothing to do about that."
I think about writing poems now and I find myself not wanting to write about sappy love or parental angst. That's what's interesting about growing up. What do I want to write about now? You may be thinking this question in your head (or maybe not, but you should be thinking it).
... SANTA CLAUS. That's what I want to write about now. I actually thought of this poem in the shower randomly. True story. My mind works in strange ways.
 |
| "Yeah, this poem about Santa Claus is going to be awesome." |
My name is Santa Claus.
I have a pretty important job.
I send gifts after the turkey goes gobble gobble gob.
I live with elves.
Scratch that,
I'm a babysitter for elves.
But they're grown little men,
Why can't they take care of themselves?
When December comes around,
I work hard everyday.
It's a hard knock life,
I ain't got no pay.
My pay is cookies.... Milk and cookies.
I've gotten so fat,
Miss Claus won't give me nookie.
My old fat body can't take much more,
Can't fit through the chimney,
I'll have to knock at your door.
And people seem to forget that I'm a carnivore.
Put some meat out there!
I drink so much milk,
that's why I got white hair.
I think I have arthritis,
But I wouldn't know.
We don't have doctors up in the north pole snow.
But whatever.
I'll do it anyways,
Because a little joint swelling won't stop my magic sleigh.
I'm like, "ho ho ho."
My laugh is deep and heavy.
Watch out, Christmas,
'Cause you ain't ready.
Made: November 29, 2012
What better way is there to start off December but with a groggy poem about Old Saint Nicholas? I assure you that the content of this poem is probably better than all of the other poems I've written in the past. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy December, everyone. We'll be bringing in the New Year real soon!
I have a pretty important job.
I send gifts after the turkey goes gobble gobble gob.
I live with elves.
Scratch that,
I'm a babysitter for elves.
But they're grown little men,
Why can't they take care of themselves?
When December comes around,
I work hard everyday.
It's a hard knock life,
I ain't got no pay.
My pay is cookies.... Milk and cookies.
I've gotten so fat,
Miss Claus won't give me nookie.
My old fat body can't take much more,
Can't fit through the chimney,
I'll have to knock at your door.
And people seem to forget that I'm a carnivore.
Put some meat out there!
I drink so much milk,
that's why I got white hair.
I think I have arthritis,
But I wouldn't know.
We don't have doctors up in the north pole snow.
But whatever.
I'll do it anyways,
Because a little joint swelling won't stop my magic sleigh.
I'm like, "ho ho ho."
My laugh is deep and heavy.
Watch out, Christmas,
'Cause you ain't ready.
Made: November 29, 2012
What better way is there to start off December but with a groggy poem about Old Saint Nicholas? I assure you that the content of this poem is probably better than all of the other poems I've written in the past. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy December, everyone. We'll be bringing in the New Year real soon!
 |
| Baby Santa is crabby and cute. |
I dare you to tell me you looked at that baby picture and didn't go, "Aww."
TELL ME!
Stay Klassy and not Krabby like baby Santa up there...
Kris
