Santa

  I will wait for Santa by the Christmas Tree,
where we’ll drink beer for an eternity.

  From his bag



  His profit margins blank for ages
             needs no pockets
             has no wages.
  Grateful words from those he knews
  his only revenue--
       Yet there are those that curse his pages,
       Damning them unadvantageous,
Advertising profit as its proper substitute.
"See, people earn their wealth in stages,
always will and have for ages... what you
ought to do is give it up and follow suit.
'Cause paper wealth in vaulted cases,
locked away in golden stasis,
Numbs/Negates all loathing weights
and tenets you held true."