Two Days Before Kwanzaa… A Christmas Poem

 

'Twas two nights before Kwanzaa, and down in the trap

The cook house was jumping, that’s real shit no cap

 

The shotgun was set by the bedside with care

In case somebody thought I might be scared

 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds

While daddy was bugging mom, for just a little head

 

Mom in her bonnet and dad his durag

Won’t mess up your hair, we got this in the bag

 

Out on the driveway arose such a clatter,

I grabbed the twelve gauge to see what was the matter

 

Away to the window like Malcolm I posed

Careful, prepared to put lead in these thieving hoes

 

The moon started to shine on the still-falling snow

Gave a shine to just like daylight on everything below

 

When what the fuck to my eyes appear?

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer

 

With a little old driver so lively and quick

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

 

Faster than my pitbulls, how quickly they came they came

And then he whistled, and shouted, and shouted their names

 

"Now, Henny! now, Dusse! now Ciroc and some mead!

On, Cuervo! on, Crown! and on pills and some weed!

 

To the top of the stoop, to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

 

As leaves that before the police cruisers fly

When they meet with a suspect, we know ‘bout to die

 

So up to the rooftop the reindeer they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and the big fatman too

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The dancing and stomping of each fucking hoof.

 

As I drew my pistol, and was turning around

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head down his back

And his clothes were all fly, like some new shit from Sak’s

 

A bundle of goods he had over his back,

And he looked like a booster trying to make a quick stack

 

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his hand

“This better not be a meth head, I’mma kill this man”

 

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

“He’s too fat, he can’t be on that meth”

 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then left like a jerk,

 

And turning to leave, he soon came alive

And me, I’m like “Santa…  The new PS5?

 

He left for his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle

And away they all flew they were out like a missile

 

I heard something yell, when they were out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”