Life has little meaning – Black Santa has moved on, or quite possibly the worst melange of poetic styles anyone will ever read…..


Tis’ the morning after our Salemtown bash,
and hutchmo is bereft,
I’ve stooped to 3rd person,
cuz, Black Santa has LEFT.

he mumbled some excuses,
as he stroked his gray beard,
and then frankly speaking,
he said, “hutchmo YOU’RE weird..

your rhymes aren’t as good as the great CLC,
and i’ve grown somewhat tired of your irascibility,
it’s time to move onward from Chez de Hutchmo,
but i’m staying in Salemtown, not far will I go”

“My new home is swaddled in such gay apparel,
not clothed in jeans blue, and outdated Merrell,
there’ll be fine dining, dancing, and deep-tissue rubs,
not sitting around in sweats, watching re-runs of Scrubs..

I’m looking for excitement, some Beam in my nogs,
not sitting around scratching and reading the blogs,
Quit yer whinin’ hutchmo, it’s not as if I’ve been Nicked,
some of the time, you can be such a dick, it’s been such a kick

I’ve got to formulate a plot fore I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only motha-santa option, failure’s not
Mom, I love you, but this old man’s got to go
I cannot grow old in Salem’s lot*

With those oddly familiar words,
Black Santa was gone,
trailing P-funk along with M & Ms on the lawn…

’tis not dew that glistens upon that lawn,
it’s the tears from knowing that Black Santa has gone,
and knowing that he will sup with another,
it feels as if I’ve lost my last brother…

oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in hutchmo-Black Santa has moved out.

*At this point, Black Santa apparently decided to channel Eminem copyrighted material.

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8 Comments

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8 responses to “Life has little meaning – Black Santa has moved on, or quite possibly the worst melange of poetic styles anyone will ever read…..

  1. a couple of nights ago, my ipod-on-continuous-shuffle played that eminem song. when it got to that stanza I thought of you!!
    of course, when I see your blog title in print I always read it in my head, “salem slots”, and then I think of vegas.
    just a little stream of consciousness for ya.

  2. Me thinks you deserve more Beam in your nog.

    Mmmmmm…nog.

  3. *At this point, Black Santa apparently decided to channel Eminem copyrighted material.

    You would have had a melange had you written your footnote in haiku.

    With apologies to Clarence Carter, I think that we can now nickname that jolly little elf “Back Door Santa” for the next year. Looka here!

    How about some love for Headstart Bunny in your rhyme? We had alt-figurines for both Christmas and Easter in da house last night.

  4. But Black Santa can’t go! I wasn’t here last Christmas for the daily updates! Whiiiiiiiiiiiine…

  5. John…time for your medicine, buddy. 😉

  6. ah, Ginger, you just don’t understand, Black Santa is THE icon of our neighborhood…losing him in our neighborhood ‘dirty Santa’ party was a loss I expected, but yet, was not quite prepared for..normally I write beautiful elegant intelligient poetry, but I was so taken aback by my loss that the resulting effort, altho odd and frankly a disgrace to poetry, was the outpouring of my heart and soul, much like the renderings of Aunt B at her finest, except this wasn’t exactly fine, and I’m no Aunt B. This insult from you, Ginger, however…ah, I can’t BS anymore*…but, I do miss Black Santa!

    *Not BSing about the oddness of the poem. I know it was bad, but it had lots of hidden insults at my neighbors and I had fun, AND that’s what the people here at the home say I need..that and weaving those damn baskets….

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