As your snuggle up warm
In your oversized bed
You’ve forgot to change the sheets
And they smell of the undead
The pillow slips were white once
And the duvet full of feathers of duck
Guess you have always been lazy
And never giving a …. Well

You had watched your cute neighbours
Building snowmen from the fresh snow
Hope they missed the poop that’s everywhere
Snowmen are generally white don’t you know
With their manicured hands protected by mittens
The rolled and formed a traditional blob
Their mother was angry and was having kittens
I wish that lady would shut her huge … Well

As you snored and farted the night away
Cosy and snug in your make believe hay
Dreaming of Miss Christmas and festive stockings
When you was woken up by some insistent knocking
Eyes still closed from blissful sleep
You managed to open the front door
What greeted you there from outside
Made you swoon to the floor

Two angry snowmen with large teeth
With two eyes like piss holes in the snow
Two mouldy scarves and no hat to wear
They just looked menacingly with their eyeless stare
“Listen mate l know it wasn’t you,
And this chat might seem a little unfair
But due to new rules of snowpersonship
You have to guarantee us some hair

You lot only build the masculine version
We’re not pleased where you stuck the carrot
According to our union rules dated 1972
We have the right to protest just like you do
We need proper scarves and underwear
So we can protect our jewels at night
We not so picky we know what’s fair
I’m sure you know we’re right

So we elect you spokesperson of this street
And we expect a radical change
Next time we come knocking
It will be your body parts we arrange
So get you ass up off the floor
You have a lot of work to do
Get us some decent clothes
Because some parts of me are turning blue.”

Next thing you remember was waking up in bed
A nauseous sickly feeling in your head
What was it ? maybe it was a dream
But it seemed more than that
Looking through the window towards the neighbours lawn
Startled to seek two snowpersons looking back at you
It’s arms made of branches pointing down
To a strange patch that seemed so blue.

┬ęDarren Hobson, owner of the when poetry flows brand and self publishing poet