a Very Slothy Christmas

by Seth Walker

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about

christmas music pisses me off.... so i made some christmas music music i can stomach so i don't have to listen to the mainstream pop-bullshit this year. now you can too.... listen to something indie and prove to your friends that knowing what sloth-hop is makes you a cooler hipster than them.... your welcome. have a very slothy chistmas.... and if you see an elf.... kick snow in his face for selling out his race to "the man" for slave labor. - ELF LIBERATION NOW!!!!! NO MORE SWEAT-SHOP LABOR.

(all proceeds from the sale of this album will go to stock-piling weapons, food and inflatable things to have sex with - for the impending zombie-pocalypse)

credits

released November 23, 2012

special thanks to:

- Ajna Wysowski: the artist who performed "have yourself a merry little christmas" & is also insanely smart thus good to talk to

- Marcus Palmer: captain of love shovel

- Johnny Opium: beard support & safety team

- Taliesin: sexual healing & all pimping needs

- Christmas: for making me hate it enough to force myself to make an album about it - just so i can tolerate it more and get through it with less gagging and wanting to snipe puppies... ba hum-bug.....

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about

Seth Walker Poetry Austin, Texas

Seth Walker is Texas' most notorious traveling poet and the 4th ranked slam poet in the world. Seth has performed at venues across the country including Da Poetry Lounge (CA), The Green Mill (IL), & The Nuyorican (NY). Along the way he won: the Utah State Arts Fair Poetry Slam (2009), North Beast Indie Slam North-Eastern Regional 2010), as well as as slamming, with the 2010 Austin Poetry Slam Team ... more

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Track Name: Little Drum-Machine Boy
come, they told me... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
there is a newborn deity... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
bring your finest gifts and things... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
to lay before the king... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...

so we honor him .... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
when we come

baby jesus... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
i am a poor boy too... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
i have no gifts to bring you... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
phat enough to give the king... pa-rump pa-pum-ping...

shall i play something ... pa-rump pa-pa-ping...
on my drum machine...

mary's hand went up... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
the ox and lamb kept beat... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
played till my face went numb... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...
i have him all i was... pa-rump pa-pa-pum...

then he smiled at me... pa-rump pa-pa-ping...
then at my drum machine... pa-rump pa-pa-ping...
me and my drum-machine....
Track Name: The Fireplace Doesn't Warm Us (poem)
The fireplace doesn’t warm you during Christmas…
Especially when you’re alone… and lonely

I’ve been tipping extra rum into my eggnog,
Trying to make your voice go away, or a phone call come
There’s a gift I’ve already paid for and wrapped,
Sitting at the back of the tree you’ll never see

Though all the songs remind me of you
I still sing, smiling, with my family


The fireplace doesn’t warm you during Christmas…
Especially when you’re alone…

I’ve sat by myself at table of friends
But I know now that you break curses,
By surpassing the assumed limitations…
I’m not just moving on,
For Christmas, I’m giving myself forgiveness
Healing, a break from trying to take a break…
I’m giving myself a new pair of walking boots
and using them…


The fireplace doesn’t warm you during Christmas…
That’s not what it’s there for

It’s only a hearth – a meeting place
So the heart can become the radiator,
Rekindled by loved ones;
The spark, ember, coal conversations…
That keeps us surviving till we meet again,
next year, alive, even if just barely…

to Share our flames
Reignite our weary bones,
And bake next to the fireplace

My dear, I will miss you this Christmas, as much as every Christmas before
And all I expect to come, but I’m letting you know…
this year I promised myself I’d stay warm
Track Name: Christmas Blues
Oh hey baby baby
Don’t know if you got the news
X2
But I’m stuck up on a mountain-top with the Christmas blues

Oh, if you’re out there pretty mama,
(I pray you) Hear my call and come home soon
X2
Cause I got sugar jar of loving, full to the brim and waiting on you

Up here on my mountain,
I got too many candles, not enough flames
X2
I got more hollow eyes, than my shadows have names

I’ve been calling out for Jesus,
But he’s not taking my calls
X2
So I’m leaving him a message, if he comes looking, I’ll be at the bar…

If you ever end up up here,
I think you’ll dig my mountain just fine…

Yeah, if find time from your career
I’ve seen yours, let me show you mine

The mountains are a wonderful place to be, unless your alone at Christmas time
Track Name: The Spirit Never Dies (poem)
There’s finally snow-falling on the ground out back
Intricately crafted, sparkly, multi-colored paper
Crumpled up around shredded boxes and bows
Children a rumpus behind the sofa
With the noisiest toys their uncle could afford
The kitchen a wreck
Too turkey-triprophaned out to do anything about it…
I turn on the t.v. to watch a Christmas story for the ten-billionth time
Only to find myself still laughing…
You know…. she broken leg lamp on purpose

In the background I hear someone playing radio-cliché Christmas tunes
As they join in, singing to the fuzzy chorus,
Noxious notes grow thicker in the air than the cinnamon scented candles…
And the lemony lingering of stuffing over the table…

I pause… realizing… I finally found santa clause

~-~
One vital stage in everyone’s “growing up” is
That, all-too-soon age, when that one sandcastle kicker
Who caught his parents present-stocking the tree,
starts going off on tirades in school-yards
About “oh yeah, well my parents told me that Santa isn’t real…”

Now knowing the strength of a child’s faith…
We all knew the only thing to follow such a deep stab
to our sacred pre-pubescent pantheon as that….
we had a total and complete
mental break-down on the play-ground…

Later that day, after being consoled and calmed down
from crippling-hysterical-fits of denial
they tell you…
it’s not that he’s not real…
he’s just not alive like you and me
he’s a spirit…
he’s only alive in you and me

~-~


Years pass with silly questions being called silly till they hide in our mouths, going unasked,
Growing assuming tradition is what we do to keep our grandparents happy.
To keep our parents off our backs in hopes of getting better gifts than last year…

so we dress in silly hats, to eat things, we’ve dieted for all year
smile to everyone at the dinner table,
including the relatives you secretly despise,
and pass the potatoes
play the piano
sing along, even though you sound like a drunk frog vomiting
belt it
for the spirits…
for the season…
like you believe in santa one more time
till you do
till your belly tingles
cheeks blush
beard thickens
you start chuckling in a way that would get you thrown out of a strip-club
your arms open
hugs last longer
road rage turns into less of a fit
you suddenly, for some reason just give a ….
You even cuss a little less…

This is the Christmas spirit…
The possession we mass-invoke every winter solstice
The joyousness of survival
Toasting to our collective conquering of the winter’s threats
Taking the most barren time of the year to
Lavish each other in gift-giving
Is there not a lesson here in the law of attraction?

This is the religion some parents forget to pass on…
That family, turkey, watching a Christmas story for the 1 billionth and one-th time
But your nephew’s first…
Is what it’s all about…
Togetherness, the heart-tingle…
The kids on the play-ground were wrong about the spirit…
He’s not dead…
Look at this face…
even the broken hearts are smiling…