Strolling Down Christmas Lanes

Tristan Robert Lange

I.
 
So many love to stroll down Christmas lanes
To the North Pole where elves and reindeer play,
Or perhaps to their dreams of candy canes,
Peppermint flavored, where they lick away.
 
Those sugar-plum fancies dancing in head,
Along with teeth chattering in the cold,
As we tell ghost tales that raise up the dead,
Or those Santa stories that are ne’er old.
 
Then the glitter, the glamor—the sparkling lights—
All shimmering like stars up in the sky,
Or the ice that looks black on those cold nights
Where we’re tucked in and there’s no risk to die.
 
These are the things our memories will speak,
While we forget those things that make us weak.
 
II.
 
While we forget those things that make us weak,
We stroll down a fancy, holiday street
Where shoppers shop and neighbors stand to speak,
Even as the frost permeates their feet.
 
The soft, white snow blustering all around
As the kids drop to swipe angels in snow,
Building puff people with snow from the ground,
And call them “men” because what do girls know?
 
We scurry all around, from store to store,
Remembering all those goodies we had
When we were young, so we keep buying more,
As we don’t want our kids to think they’re bad.
 
We buy dolls for girls and, for the boys, trains,
While children starve and no one ever gains.
 
III.
 
While children starve and no one ever gains,
We prepare for the coming holidays.
We get busy remembering, which pains,
The cards needing to be sent in a daze.
 
All of the activities we attend,
From German markets to Santa’s toy shop,
We sing festive carols—make music mend
Our broken hearts from where the pieces drop.
 
We all tell ourselves we are seeking peace,
Good will toward all and freedom for all lands,
As our consumption of this world won’t cease,
So we can scoop up all the latest brands.
 
This is why our kids future is so bleak,
Something to cover up—Shhh!—dare not speak.
 
IV.
 
Something to cover up—Shhh!—dare not speak,
This is one of two times we fill churches
In our annual ascent to the peak,
Where we hide the truth of what lurches.

Beneath the surface of shallow lives
We get lost in the nostalgia we miss,
Like a bear getting lost in sweet bee hives,
We think our ignorance will give us bliss.
 
We coo and swoon over a little babe
Born in a manger all those years ago,
While we peck and gore the truth like a rabe
Eating carrion frozen in the snow.
 
The snow all around us is oozing red;
We close our eyes and keep our own ones fed.
 
V.
 
We close our eyes and keep our own ones fed,
Gathering around tables filled with food
So glorious it could feed more than tread
The halls in our homes where music sets mood.
 
Where bows of holly and mistletoe hang,
The folks try to steal away some kisses,
While little drummer boys start with a bang
And the TV weather always misses.
 
Over the mantle dry frozen stockings,
While chestnuts roast on an open fire,
Crackling away, while dulling those knockings
Of distant wassailers whose songs inspire
 
To bring drink and include them in the fold.
No, we won’t let strangers in from the cold.
 
VI.
 
No, we won’t let strangers in from the cold,
For we fear all those things we cannot know.
We fear what we might lose and growing old,
So we hoard our presents and never grow.
 
We tell our kids of jolly ol’ Saint Nick,
How he is careful to check his long list
To reward the good and give bad a trick,
And we hope that our young ones get the gist.
 
Meanwhile, we scream at each other in line
Because we’ve got to get the best deals first,
We cuss as we pinch ourselves with the twine,
Holding trees to car tops ready to burst.
 
We honk at those cars whose taillights are red,
While we hear songs of world peace snuffing dread.
 
VII.
 
While we hear songs of world peace snuffing dread,
And those sugar-plumbs dance in our own minds.
The homeless and hungry still go unfed
As we cozy up behind shuttered blinds.
 
Forever fans for the sappy movies
That show us the love we will never have,
We pretend we are a bunch of newbies,
Naive to the fact some have only half.
 
Half of the resources, half of the love,
Some people live with half of everything—
Or less, honestly—yet that fact we shove
Out the window where it won’t ever sting.
 
We act like we all are so very bold,
Though we are all afraid of growing old.
 
VIII.
 
Though we are all afraid of growing old
And we wish for products that make us young,
We forget those whose advanced ages told
Of times when our values were better sung.
 
Not that perfection was ever that near,
Not at all—we’ve never really been close—
In fact, back then there was still much to fear,
Where racists and sexists were bellicose.
 
And, actually, so they still are today,
They run rampant in our streets where hope laid—
It laid there once as light in skies of gray,
Yet, only evil seems to e’er get paid.
 
As we sit with our families throughout nights
Where our secrets haunt us with many frights.
 
IX.
 
Where our secrets haunt us with many frights,
We find ourselves lost with nowhere to go,
So we shop, we church, and please our delights
Drawing those smiley faces in the snow.
 
We tuck our children inside their li’l beds.
If they’re boys, we love them and show them joy,
But for girls, we cut their hopes in shreds,
And we shun any found with the wrong toy.
 
We worship a porcelain baby doll,
And ignore the King who will ‘ever reign.
We sing of carols of Herod’s own fall
While we fuck up the world as Christ’s own bane.
 
We pray to God and then we wonder why,
Our prayers are unanswered from the sky.
 
X.
 
Our prayers are unanswered from the sky
From the God we’ve otherwise forsaken—
No, I’m not speaking of those who ask why,
Nor from those who religion was taken.

I’m not speaking of those who don’t believe,
Nor those from other types of religions;
Rather, I speak to those who have received
Baptism and taken Christ’s provisions.
 
You are the ones who should be reflecting
On what you believe and whether you’re fake;
Whether your prayers are really respecting
Of God’s will, or they’re a mistake.
 
Yes, these words come off as harsh as frost bites,
Because the truth puts our sin in bright lights.
 
XI.
 
Because the truth puts our sin in bright lights
We lash at those who bring the message;
Yet, that exposes further our own frights
And shows that our faith is a mere vestige.
 
The cracks in our own walls become exposed—
Like the Krampus in Santa’s goodie bag,
The Christ we had hoped for we’ve now opposed—
The shroud we’ve clung to is rendered a rag.
 
It’s a shame, really, that most miss the point
And spirit of Christmas altogether,
Like they’re snorting coke while toking a joint;
Their logic is bound in skulls of leather.
 
Let me tell you now that this is no lie.
Friend, it’s our sin that causes us to die.
 
XII.
 
Friend, it’s our sin that causes us to die,
And by sin, I do not mean those you judge,
For that sin is the worst of all, I cry,
For you are no god and God’s throne won’t budge.
 
So go right ahead, if you really want to,
And with you  bring all of your “holy” friends,
Return to your household of Christmas blue,
Where dreams are crushed and there are no amends.
 
Take your time, for there really is no rush,
Enjoy the cocoa and the ‘mallow puffs.
Add the whipped cream to the top in a gush,
And snuggle on a pillow someone fluffs.
 
Because it’s so hard to go ‘gainst the grains,
People put numbing egg nog in their veins.
 
XIII.
 
People put numbing egg nog in their veins,
Loaded with rum to wash away their blues,
While they speed on down those memory lanes
Making judgments without those shoes
 
That they were so privileged not to wear,
Because they had all of the fancy toys,
Or at least their parents had love to spare,
Whether they were cis or trans, girls or boys.
 
Not all of the kids have such joyful luck,
And some great families do largely without,
While most go on without giving a fuck.
Ooh, with that kind of language comes the pout.
 
People only seek to go with the grains,
Rather than walking on holier planes.
 
XIV.
 
Rather than walking on holier planes,
Such a lonely place for one to e’er trod,
Most of society blindly abstains
From turning their hearts to the ways of God.
 
Yet, “a city shining” they say we are,
Shouting across the world from our mics,
While we drink our charity at the bar
And advertise it on TV to tikes.
 
Are we on your goody-good list Santa,
For the sins we’ve so neatly tucked away,
Do you see us as smooth as a manta,
Or will you deliver coal this cold day?
 
Will you deliver us from icy rains?
So many love to stroll down Christmas lanes.
 
XV.
 
So many love to stroll down Christmas lanes,
While we forget those things that make us weak,
While children starve and no one ever gains,
Something to cover up—Shhh!—dare not speak.
 
We close our eyes and keep our own ones fed—
No, we won’t let strangers in from the cold,
While we hear songs of world peace snuffing dread—
Though we are afraid of growing old.
 
Where our secrets haunt us with many frights,
Our prayers are unanswered from the sky
Because the truth puts our sin in bright lights;
Friend, it’s our sin that causes us to die.
 
Rather than walking on holier planes,
So many love to stroll down Christmas lanes.
 
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
  • Author: Tristan Robert Lange (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 29th, 2024 09:07
  • Comment from author about the poem: A heroic crown of sonnets critiquing civic religion and Christmas consumerism.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 20
  • Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Cheeky Missy
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Comments +

Comments8

  • arqios

    A bunch of oddities and contradictory traditions, that seems to be part and parcel of Christmas charm.

    • Tristan Robert Lange

      Indeed! Thank you so much for your time (I know this one IS NOT a short read) and for your astute feedback. Much appreciated! 🙏❤️

    • Teddy.15

      Kudos a thousand time, Christmas should be about having those you love around you, hot food and some music, its commercially ruined by all the got to haves, I got a barbie when I was 13 now the 13 year olds get
      ( I phones.) Sad world in this case. 🌹

      • Tristan Robert Lange

        The commercialization of holidays, Christmas especially, is such a travesty to what the holidays are supposed to be about. We all, or at least many, know it...and I felt the muse calling me to write on it. Good thing I had enough to say to fill up an entire heroic crown of sonnets! LOL! Thank you so much, Teddy, for your time (as I know this took time) and your feedback! ❤️🙏 I concur with you! 💯 Very sad, and sadly not changing.

      • Neville



        Say it like it bloomin is why don'tcha .. not everyone is gonna like it but I applaud you for saying it regardless .. How you managed to pull this off is close to a miracle I know for sure I couldn't have done it .. but then, I've never even writ a single sonnet .. The old Bard himself would be proud of ya .. I'm just glad I was born when I was, when things were a bit different back then .. I think you deserve the very distinguished dubble 👍👍

        • Tristan Robert Lange

          Wow! Thank you Neville! Yeah, the muse caught my heart and fingertips with this one. I realize it might be a "hot take" for some, but the truth usually is! LOL! I really appreciate your distinguished dubble and raise you a glass my friend! 🍻 Thank you so much for your time (as this was a long one) and feedback! ❤️🙏

        • sorenbarrett

          Christmas was to celebrate peace, closeness to others, charity and instead has become the opposite consumerism, who can get the most, keeping up with the Jones, greed, gluttony, selfishness, partying, forgetting the poor, the lonely and sad. Hypocrisy at its best.

          • Tristan Robert Lange

            💯 true! Sad, but true. Thank you so much, Soren, for reading and engaging! ❤️🙏

          • TobaniNataiella

            That is some piece of writing, Thank you i enjoyed the read. Covering both sides of the festive season, worth the hard work it must have took.

            • Tristan Robert Lange

              Thank you so much, my friend, for the time (no doubt) it took to read and for also engaging with the piece. I really appreciate it. 🙏❤️ Indeed, this was a bit of a challenge to write, but definitely well worth it! Thank you again!

              • TobaniNataiella

                You are very welcome

              • Doggerel Dave

                This is the most all inclusive picture of Christmas as I've ever tripped over, Tristain. Christmas is usually one of those topics I avoid like the plague; in this instance I'm very glad I didn't - although I've now got to go lay down and recover...👍😊

                • Tristan Robert Lange

                  LOL! Indeed! 😵‍💫 LOL! I am so glad you took the time to read it, especially knowing that you would normally skip over a Christmas themed poem, and that it...having taken the bait (if you will) that it resonated! I am sure others might not feel the same way, LOL! That means so much to me, Dave! I truly mean that! Thank you for giving it a chance! ❤️🙏 Now, I pray you recover well and got your fill of Christmas poems for the season! 🤣

                  • Doggerel Dave

                    Save the prayer - I've definitely had my fill............ 😆 (but in a good way)

                    • Tristan Robert Lange

                      🤣

                    • Thad Wilk

                      👍👍
                      An awesomazing
                      heroic crown of Sonnets indeed!!
                      Love this stanza in XV.
                      So many love to stroll down
                      Christmas lanes,
                      While we forget those things
                      that makes us weak.
                      While children starve and no
                      One ever gains,
                      something to cover up---Shhh!
                      --- date not speak..
                      Powerful penning my friend!! 🙏👋
                      Best regards peace ✌️. Thad

                      • Tristan Robert Lange

                        Thank you, Thad! I am glad you saw this, as I knew you would appreciate the form...a sonnet guy yourself! Thank you so much for your time and feedback. I am truly glad it resonated and...yeah...how about that XV master sonnet...it might be a while before I attempt this again... 😵‍💫 LOL!

                      • NinjaGirl

                        beautiful lights, jolly old saint nick, and gifts galore--starving kids, houseless humans, all to ignore. christians who don't act like Christ; the name only to show others they are a 'good person'



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