12/2009

This tale first appeared a few week’s ago in the Literary section. The editors at Lutin Muse thought, since it has a slight political flair, it might “brighten” the season for readers on the front page. Written by Ye Olde Scribe Come gather round kiddies for a quaint little Christmas tale featuring the skeleton of a certain Karl, visitors, an Ant and so much more socked into our stocking that Santa is going to have to be told to “go stuff it” somewhere else. It all happened around Christmas time. Many Christmas times. Once upon those many times ago there twere a twisted little man named Karl. No, he really was twisted: everything about him. His arms, his legs, his neck; even his intestines were twisted, which fits right into Scribe’s story. But Scribe will save that twist for a bit later. Karl’s ethics were a little twisted too, somewhat like Scribe’s, only far, far worse. Scribe’s only ethical twist is he likes to make you wait for the punchline. And this is all a bit of an allegory regarding another rather twisted “Karl,” but let’s keep the story non-partisan for now, OK? OK??? Well, anyflusie…

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Written by Lilith Raymour A reflection Of who you are Tis the season Rant Rave Bellow Scream “That’s not what the season means!” “The whole thing’s a lie” “Obscene!” If you are that set In your ways That’s all you get That’s all you give Emptiness But Search for new meaning Sink deep into more About the season Than what’s sold Find the changed story In an old story retold And who knows Maybe Just maybe You can warm yourself On a hearth Where magic glows Through Around Under Over God Jesus Or virgin birth Mohammad Vishnu Buddha None Some Or All of the above Use any of these colors One can still paint An endless portrait of love Reflected through the season Now imagine a world Where all these new Unique Understandings Help us live Through gifts we give Ourselves Each other Any season Is more than just an ornament And together We can truly be Our own Santas _______________________________________________ Copyright 2009 Lilith Raymour all rights reserved

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Author’s note: for many years I entertained at Spirit of Suwannee’s Olde Tyme days; Thanksgiving time, and my wife Millie would come visit. We would canoe and kayak. Then I would stay and continue doing shows in the area almost up to Christmas, while they put up a really beautiful drive through light exhibit. So Christmas time my mind sometimes still drifts down that river… Written by Ken Carman I’ve seen you You’ve seen me Through many changes Rearranges I’ve often wondered Is the “we” Both of us were Anything like The “us” We we are now? The love we have Sometimes love Sometimes not Has wandered Through many corners And crevasses Much like this meandering stream Still It seems As deeply shaded As this quietly quilted river Millie Ken Sometimes we float Sometimes we fly Through our love A soaring Suwannee lullaby Parachuting into occasional pleasure Through occasional pain If we had been sane Our first Frigid February day Would we have run the other way? There are other possible paths We never pursued Both of us may regret But what we look forward to now We would have missed back then We look forward To what love always…

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Written by Ye Olde Scribe It all happened around Christmas time. Many Christmas times. Once upon those many times ago there twere a twisted little man named Karl. No, he really was twisted: everything about him. His arms, his legs, his neck; even his intestines were twisted, which fits right into Scribe’s story. But Scribe will save that twist for a bit later. Karl’s ethics were a little twisted too, somewhat like Scribe’s, only far, far worse. Scribe’s only ethical twist is he likes to make you wait for the punchline. And this is all a bit of an allegory regarding another rather twisted “Karl,” but let’s keep the story non-partisan for now, OK? OK??? Well, anyflusie… Karl made most of his money singing and contorting at carnivals that traveled through the Sesame Seed Street laden breadbasket of America. He made even more traveling through the mentally curdled parts the dairyland-brisket because, when he sang Do Re Me ; while swallowing foreign objects, the dairy farmers would throw money at him while making cow sounds. But only when he reach the word “la.” Yes, dear reader, that’s how Karl made his MOO-la. Christmas day, 2009, Karl got even greedier than…

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Written by Millie Jenny C. (12/3/09) Christmas colors reflect & blink Lining the sides of streets Bright greens and reds, Golds, blues, silvery colors. Proudly proclaiming Seasonal greetings. Christmas spirit fills the air. Sometimes accompanied by music. Filling me with nostalgia. Memories of childhood . . . Dreaming of treasures. Anticipating gifts that sometimes still Come my way. . . Dont feel as magical As in years past. The giddy anticipation of a child Innocence & laughter recalled. Grandparents remembered. Old friends and new friends gathering together Celebrating Anticipating Sharing fruits, cakes, cookies Other treats. . . Sharing stories of Christmases past. Hopes for the present. . . Dreams & visions of all Christmases to come. Come share your Christmas with me. . Join around the Christmas tree. Hand in hand in anticipation Join in the celebration . . . Of laughter, magic, and love Christmas joy to all here and above _________________________________ Copyright 2009 Millie Jenny C. all rights reserved

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Written by Ken Carman Mythology would be a funny thing If it weren’t for the lack of laughs So caught up In praising The virgin birth Santa Jesus Or communion grazing The body of Son of God Claus We often give little pause Consider how we treat others “Do unto others…” Gets smothered By seasonal theological demands Preconceived notions Can be murderous potions Lighting the heat Beneath any Kriss Kringle’s feet For some Tis a festival of sad Broken hearts Broken homes Broken dreams That will never be sewn back together Shattered dolls are we Ripped and tattered By the splatter of days As we toil Life… Is just natural Drive by soiler Of the soul Only you have the thread That can sew the hole in my heart And only I have the hands That can stitch back Your ripped off parts Together we have the power To wash and sew each other Clean Holy And whole Again These are the only true gifts We can offer each other ______________________________ Copyright 2009 Ken Carman all rights reserved Santa/chimney gif courtesy toons.artie.com gifts: wikicommons

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The Lutin Muse Literary Journal: December 2009

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