His extended winter paradoxical thoughts

I listened to "Running with the Night," on the radio today. It sent a cold chill up my neck and reminded me of how much Lionel Richie moves me. Christmas is about Lionel Richie, and too many people neglect to remember this. Too many people are caught up in the consumer fury affliction. A short prose should be used as a recollection when you find your sorry ass in the mall for 5 hours too long:

A tree branch withers in the rotted sun
A holy man breathes a fire loop into the open casket
Funeral for a friend
Now worth $4.00 is you find the right man for purchase

A telephonogram was massaged into the conversation
And you didn't reap the benefits
But thought of your old man
Your tears were a silver hue
And your mucus ran clear

The man was Lionel Richie
And he'll buy the comic book
And massage you
And read you a peaceful love train
And make love to your soul

Christmas is his birthday
And he is the universe over lord
His presence is a dark black mole