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FreeVerse: Christmas Music: 1999

Remember last month when I posted that tribute to Book Bloggers for FreeVerse, that was a spin-off of The Violent Femmes’ “American Music?”  And remember how I said that it wasn’t the first time I’d used that song in poetry before?    

And remember last week when I said there was a poem I’d like to post for the Holidays but because I was in Seattle, and the poem was in my parents’ basement in Michigan I couldn’t?  

And remember how I am (for the next few hours at least) in Michigan now?

And, are you like me in that the holidays don’t really feel over until after New Year’s?

Are you picking up what I’m laying down?

This is a poem I wrote ten years ago.  The only change I’ve made is that I’ve added “1999″ to the title.  The reason I did that is because that year Ramadan fell close to the December holidays, and that’s important to the poem.  

It’s really long because I used to write ridiculously long poetry.  And I’m not saying I really still like this poem.  It’s voice is clearly conflicted, but hey, I *was* sixteen when I wrote it.

The song lyrics are from The Violent Femmes song “American Music”.

“Christmas Music: 1999″ by J.T. Oldfield

Do you like American Music?
I like American Music.
Don’t you like American Music?
     Baby.
They didn’t like American Music.
They never heard American Music.
They didn’t know the music was in my soul.
     Baby.
But maybe…
Because I live
Because I am
From that little town
Of Bethlehem
The silver bells sound
To take a stand
Against the Solstice
Celebrate Birth
Head off but entice
Across the Earth.
Sound those bells
Lest the Pagans come
And we befell
In one lump sum.

You were born too late
I was born too soon
But every time I look at that ugly moon
It reminds me of you
It reminds me of you.
Escaping themselves
In a new country
Tripping over yourselves
Over centuries.
Remember the 25th
(As it were the Main)
In its own gift
Because it’s that sane.
In this melting pot
Something to gain
But not a lot
But endeavored
Make it stop
Never surrendered
Down to the top
In icy December
Trees glisten
What was that reason?
Nobody listened
‘Tis the season

What’s that charity?
‘Tis the seaon.
The coin’s ability
Stretches not at all
Why now?
Can’t fall.
Never asking how
Or how skewed.
Take your bow
Before you’re unglued.

As I am.
I ran away
From Bethlehem
But that’s O.K.
I celebrate
From my culture
Fight the hate
If you can mature.
But what’s on my list
I have my teeth
Would I be missed
If I didn’t breathe?
That’s just it
This what I’m wanting
The will to get
Out of bed in the morning
Can you give me this?
With a pretty bow
It’s on the list
And I’m so low.
I want you to hold me.
I want your arms around me.
I want you to hold me.
      Baby.

While age divides
Or maybe friendship  
And thoughts hide
But still slip
So afraid
Of everything
Ten shades
Of my fling
All in Grey
AS it necessittates
They all say
But it’s not their fate.
You were born too soon
I was born too late
But every time I look at that Ugly lake
It reminds me of me
It reminds me of me…

So ring silver bells
A coin in the bucket
Plastic sells
Souls suck it.
Under mistletoe
Grimacing lips
Friend or foe?
Swaying hips
They wonder why
Because we’re bored
Change with the high
And it’s a new chord
This is suburbia
What is there to do?
In this replica
We want something new.
What’s our taks?
Keeping off of your rugs
But he asks
Did you do too many drugs?
I did too many drugs
Did you do too many drugs, too?
      Baby.
Run to the mall
All so shiny
Lest you fall
Buy the finery

Open the package
On Christmas morning
To find suffrage
Find forlorning
Empty presents
From empty reason
Keeping peasants
‘Tis the season.

Belief wanes
Can’t say I’m sorry
Couldn’t sustain
In such a hurry.
Atheists keep quiet
Until they run out
And they cry it
In scorning shouts
Scorn it all 
Forgetting the message
If there was one at all
In the package.
But take to heart
The annual hope
Not so tart
Under a microscope.
Can’t criticize the ideals
Need something to be
Need something to feel
If you can’t see
In America
Self absorbing  
Mass hysteria
Watch their hoarding.

Running with Gap bags
Who makes those garments?
Dressed in rags
Forgotten in merriment
The temple of the Mall
May I remind
When you call
In Gap lines.

In your season
Of compassionate hope
You lost your reason
And they can’t cope.
Lives aren’t picked
There’s no martyrdom
They never heard American Music
While you play dumb.
Lost morals
In finding them
By mortals
Count ten.

What’s ignorance?
Is it bliss?
Giving a chance
Happy Solstice
Happy Kwanza
Ramadan and Eid
Happy Hanukah
And if there’s no creed
Happy New Year’s Eve.
Don’t be afraid
Know what you don’t believe
That’s your aid.
Know the world
What most won’t admit
Those little Gap girls
Are stuck with it.
Take your giving season
It’s so hollow
As if it were treason
Not to follow
While your god suffered
So do children the world over
This is the word
And guilt hovers
Only this is different
This is real
Slaving over garments
What do you feel?
Whatever your belief
On your mosaic
Remember in grief,
They didn’t like American Music
They never heard American Music
They didn’t know the music was in my soul,
     Baby. 

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