Author: douglove1225

You sit to write a song, you look bored. You get up and wander around the ol’ domicile, you get ideas. Are they any good? Who knows!

Where Do You Store Your Ornaments?

After college I moved out with second hand stuff,
Never seemed to have food or plates or chairs enough,
But as the years grew long my shelves weren't up to snuff:
All my Christmas decorations jammed up my hutch.

[chorus]
The bulbs were crowded so they cracked,
The balls didn't last in a stack.
Fit that stuff in a box out back
Which molded 'til it all turned black.

Then I married and my decorations doubled;
So drew up some blueprints to construct a new shed.
Then kids started bringing home handmade junk misspelled...
We got taller trees, but were in over our heads. 

[chorus] 
Nutcrackers crowded 'til they cracked,
Candles didn't last in a stack.
Now so many boxes're out back
Moving them makes a heart attack.

Well, we never slowed up but collected beyond
Enough stuff to bejewel Godzilla AND King Kong.
Once we've our halls and gay apparel all re-donned,
We keep Christmas alive and displayed: All. Year. Long.

[chorus]
Garlands amassed until WE cracked,
The wreaths devour'd money stacks,
But here you know where you are at--
Pull up a sleigh and wear a Santa hat!

NOT based on a true story, God no. But, a family number? Kidsong? Not sure about that. Maybe grunge, or at least garage, would bring out the pissiness.

The obligatory weather alert song.

December Wind Go Take a Hike

How lovely, it's
Nearly Christmas
I have a wish...
And it's for us!
But then the cold 
Rears up its scold
And puts my goals
In a chokehold.

[chorus]
December wind
Go take a hike;
I'm not thin-skinned
I just don't like... December Wind!

No fireplace
Nor heating grates
Can save my face
From polar fate!
I need a hug,
A liquor jug,
Or tauntaun's gut
to keep me snug

[chorus]
December wind
Ste-als my breath,
Cuts skin like flint
'Til all that's left's... December wind!

Through ev'ry leak
I hear a shriek;
Wear frosty streaks
Across my cheeks.
Swaddled in coats
I make a toast
To the North Pole's
Most fatal ghost....

[chorus]
December wind,
Please take a break
Or frostbite wins!
...I'll never shake... December wind!

Not rap, not really. Not nearly exhaustively long enough for rap. I’m feeling more cowboy country. (Country rap?)

I put more thought than work into this one. Seemed like a clear, writes-itself conceit to me. Many of these criticisms are my own, others just fit the rhyme scheme.

What Your Favorite Christmas Movie Says About You

[intro]
The holiday seasons rolling around again
And you are going to watch 'Charlie Brown'... again,
Then 'Olive', 'Frosty', "Grinch', 'Rudolph', 'Mickey'--yes sir--
'A Year Without Santa Claus' to see Heat Miser.
You're in a rut each December for what to watch,
And your tradition says about you--such a lot.

If 'Miracle' is your go-to, you're old as dirt.
'Wonderful Life' is soothing for pitiful hurt.
'Chronicles' means you're queer for leather bear 'zaddies.
'The Grinch Who Stole' works best for who partake of weed.

The Hallmark Channel left on means you have no life.
'Love Actually' excuses your adultery.
'A Christmas Carol' unifies the ninety-nine,
Unless it has Muppets, then just enjoy--it's fine.

'Christmas Story' appeals to haters and riffraff.
But, fans of 'Home Alone' might be sociopaths.
'Krampus' and other horror means you hate Christmas.
'Jingle Jangle'/'Spirited' have woke agendas.

'Vacation' cheers the downtrodden's vicious revenge.
'Die Hard' fans want all to know they're Xmas-deranged.
'Elf' is (a) millennial's anthem to not grow up.
'Ernest Saves Christmas' did that first... without throw up.

[outro]
The holiday lineup has come and gone again
And you have stayed true to all your old traditions.
It's not like anything new is going to please,
So leave your personality in the deep freeze.
Or, if you want to really get a bellyful,
Hie to the cineplex for the Oscar hopefuls.

Okay, there are hundreds of Christmas movies. Not going to watch/judge ’em all. And the TV specials are a whole ‘nother category. I can see a rollicking pop tune to underly this. Some rock? Perhaps.

I must be getting tired, so i’m writing about writing. I thought that was funny in my youth, writing an essay about writing an essay. And that was before meta was a thing. Still, write what you know. I guess i know a little about songwriting by this point.

Writing a Christmas Song Like No Other

I think I'll write a number one - Christmas song.
I am, not to be too boastful - an artiste.
I'm sure there's room for 'nother one - can't go wrong.
Just come up with (an) original - masterpiece. 

[chorus] 
I got ideas about J. Christ - all been done.
Or maybe Santa Claus hisself - not sure what.
I might get some ideas 'bout toys - not a one.
Never thought it'd be this bad, well - shut my butt.

I'm going 'bout this the wrong way - wait a sec.
Got to let the spirits guide me - to that place.
Read the cards and watched the movies - what the heck.
They're all cliched and all drivelly - commonplace.

[chorus]
Some tunes complaining 'bout the snow - all been done. 
An animal besides hippos? - not sure what.
Some new thoughts about mistletoe? - not a one.
Elves... and tree lots... and UFOs? - shut my butt.

I'll write the first thing in my heart - improvise.
The Grinch has died... he's now Asian - not so great.
Three dinosaurs... followed a star - word to (the) wise:
Don't force your imagination - guess I'll wait.

[chorus]
Guess I'll sing old songs again - so rightly.
Guess I saw them all along - all wrongly.
I'll not write new verse or refrain... or maybe,
I'll write a song about writing... a song... hey....

Not exactly stream of cocoa-ness, but i’ve certainly beheld worse (published). Some start-and-stop pop music, perhaps. Indie, anyway.

The popular refrain at the in-laws’ (long ago) was Whuddyaget-Whuddyaget-Whuddyaget? But there was always that one spoil sport who would hold up a wrapped box, cock his head to one side, and announce: ‘shaver’ or ‘pajama set’ or ‘garden gnome’ or whatever. Generally speaking, he was right. Made me wonder how often other families had such gifted prognosticators, and how much the ancient art of childhood snooping has been kept alive.

Shake That Present

All under the tree
Where we all can see
Colors and stripes
Can we classify?

[chorus]
Shake it, Don't Break it,
Weigh it, X-Ray it,
Measure it, Treasure it.
Guess wrong and you'll look like shit.

Now what could it be?
You'll guess easily
The size and the shape
Just heft it for weight.

[chorus]

I can't wait to open
You know what I'm hopin'
The gift of my dreams
I can see through the seams!

[chorus]

I've opened that present
It's not what I wanted
Are you sure that's mine?
I'll check one more time!

[chorus]

Simple lines for a simple concept. I stand by (most of) it. Driving rhythm (sorta), so–metal. Or at least hard blues. Gotta go.

Still getting personal for my original songs. But, as the title suggests, this is autobiographical-ish. I don’t dwell much on the past, and can barely remember what i was doing yesterday… So let’s celebrate having nothing much to say!

Why Can’t I Remember My Childhood Christmases?

From Dylan Thomas to Jean Shepherd
Childhood memories roost on ol' Christmas!
But these are obtuse caricatures
Colored outside the lines with (a) warped paintbrush.

[chorus]
I can't remember Christmas at four--
Not what i got or what i even wore. 
There may have been a Fred Flinstone car...
My memories are all uncalled for.

The holidays are for the kids-sure!
With their wish lists and Santa's doubled.
It helps them rise up, though immature
And keeps them out of Winter's troubles.

[chorus]
I can't remember Christmas at eight--
How did i sing or pray or cel'brate?
Did i say thank you, or litigate?
I'm sure i ate too many chocolates.

So then they grow up out of Christmas:
Those 'tweens who swear and sin without (a) blush.
These young adults who bear no excuse
For naughtiness learned from Church and Claus.

[chorus]
I can remember Christmas for my child,
When he was docile or in denial.
I always had one more gift for (the) pile;
He won't recall, but it was worthwhile.

Oh, that got a bit touchy-feely. No regrets, but it did end up with a bit of a message. Shall we try some gospel or soul? No? I guess that’d be weird. Kid music?

When pushed, i ‘ll describe myself as spiritual. But church cured me of religion. At organized worship it found each little old lady (or man) was their own Jehovah, looking you up and judging you down. And the kids banded into exclusive cliques that don’t want no part of you. So i can get a little sacrosanct with your bitter little host.

A Christmas Miracle?

A baby was born without a father or room...
Is that a miracle? A Christmas miracle?
Then what about newborns surviving Dumpster tombs?
Is each a Jesus Christ? At even half the price?

[chorus]
I wanna believe what i can't even see,
So touch now my eyes with Your epiphanies;
Know me and show me my Galilee
And i will kneel down in Your archdiocese. 

I pushed all the buttons in the elevator...
Is that a miracle? A Christmas miracle?
I dined well and dashed pell mell past the headwaiter...
It was no loaves and fish! Nor from some divine wish!

[chorus]
It smells six-six-six to believe tricks;
I'll see your Scrooge turned and raise you (a) Fezziwig;
See through spirits... but Watson & Crick...
Isn't your cross just another megalith?

I fell in and was loved by the perfect woman...
Was that a miracle? A holy miracle?
I never was worthy but rose to the romance...
Is love the true zenith? Why we strive for the myth?

[chorus]
Life is a jumble, but i'll give it a tumble:
'Good is God and bad is us'--don't be a dumbbell!
I rejoice what I got--no mumbles--
But drop the black and white--what would Jesus fumble?

This feels like the refrain is the verse, and vice verses… but I do like some of the wordplay and provocation. Some of it is still too obtuse though. I may have to revisit this. Lively folk pop? Or just garage punk?

You pen enough of these songs, you gotta get personal and pull from your past. Write what you know or whatever. So, just a peek behind the curtains…

Eve or X: What Time is Christmas?

Christmas is that time of YEAR, 
It's part of the hol'day SEASON.
I guess it's on TWELVE TWENTY-FIVE,
But let's pinpoint the right MOMENT.

[chorus]
'Cuz... We went to my Dad's family on (the) Eve:
Stuffed shirts; exotic, funny smells.
We went to my Mom's folks' on Xmas Day:
So many kids and mean uncles.
...but when was Christmas?

I know the kids get impatient,
They cannot wait for Santa Claus.
So maybe offer one present,
To calm them down to sleep for hours.

But those old in-laws need it all:
They want the pack for that day off,
So it's the Eve that's warm and small
The next day is for the blowout. 

[chorus]

But here's the thing with chim-a-neys:
They open once for that birthDAY,
So when dawn turns to day from eve 
You'll no longer anticipate.

Let's herd the herd into the car
AFTER they've savaged all Kringle's.
We'll stretch the holiday so far
Not just a single jingle mingle.

[chorus]
So...  Go to your Dad's family on (the) Eve,
Or business friends who wish you well,
And then to your Mom's folks' on Xmas Day.
Or neighbors blasting decibels
...and all'll be Christmas.

Not sure here. I did want to feature the dilemma of when to open gifts: the night before or the morning of? But i got hung up on my family. Setting this to a folk music screed is a possibility.

Piggybacking off that last song, i took the peeking at Santa trope and folded in my pet theories about time-traveling/space-bending ’round the world dimension tripping. THAT’s how he does it, you know.

I Saw Santa (And I’ll Never be the Same)

It started when Garth told me no--There ain't no Santa Claus.
So I said that's brag'docio-- Just hold now your applause.
I'll get the proof tonight, you dog--And bet you all my dough.
T'show y'all from my cold Yule log... Autograph or photo?

[chorus]
Santa Claus, Kris Kringle
I'll show 'em all
Per Noel, Old Fellow
Now heed my call

I'd lain in wait for most the night--And not one mouse stirring.
But then... the most amazing sight! Though my eyes were blurring.
A thrilling sound as if sonic--The temp'rature went white.
Totally not being ironic--But not sure what to write.

[chorus]
Santa Claus, Kris Kringle
I'll show 'em all
Per Noel, Old Fellow
I'm in your thrall

Straight on he's everywhere at once--sideways a vast rainbow.
My mind can't conceive this affront--Not to senses or brow.
It must be how he does't all now--I guess I've been a fool
To trap him trideimensionally... I see string theory loops....

[chorus]
Santa Claus, Kris Kringle
I'll show 'em all
Per Noel, Old Fellow
I feel so small

Kudos if you picked up on the Firesign Theater allusion. The forced meter, i think, helps the synesthesia. Prog rock, perhaps? (Been listening to Alan Parsons Project, haven’t i?)

This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while. It’s like a little story. But, i could never tell if it’s too subtextual or too obvi.

Black Mirror Christmas

I'm gonna peek at Santa Claus, I am
I even stayed up all night--1 A.M.!
I hid myself behind the daveno
Until I heard a sound I didn't know...

[chorus]
Christmases they come and go,
But I remember this one so,
Sure as shootin', Honest Joe,
Or was it such a long ago?

I heard this humming, and some mumbling too
So I looked out this longish black window
And saw this old, sad man look right at me;
I had to wave and he waved just like me.

[chorus]

Then there's this thump from up the stairs
And voices made me so confused and scared:
"Grampa has left his room!" "Go find him now!"
"I see him waving at his reflection"

[chorus]

Not exactly a streaming show reference, then. More literal. Should i pull back on the hints, though?