Who Art In Lapland

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It’s nearly Christmas! This is my absolute favourite time of the year! I love so much about Christmas. The music, the decorations, the trees, the presents! It’s all so wonderful but, if I’m totally honest, it can also be a huge distraction from what Christmas actually is. The true meaning of Christmas is not presents, we all know that. It’s not family and friends (despite what Disney might tell you). It’s not even joy and peace in an abstract sense.

Don’t get me wrong, that stuff’s great and I buy into it year after year and enjoy it immensely. But let’s not faff around with all this ‘Christmas is about family’ nonsense. Christmas is about Christ. Hence the ‘Christ’ in Christmas. God became a person. That’s pretty, kinda, ¬†ridiculously exciting.

This poem is about rampant commercialism, the deification of Santa, and the twisted works-gospel of modern day Christmas. I’m so edgy.

Who Art In Lapland

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy presents
For all my friends and family
If I don’t buy them now

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy gifts
He knows if I’ve been bad or good
It’s written on his brow

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy offerings
And lay them on the alter
Of the great Cash Cow

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HAIL SANTACTUS

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