An original Christmas story by Bill Meeks.
‘Twas the night before Kanye, I was far from carefree
I was constantly stirring. My eyes buzzed with glee.
The tickets were stored on my nightstand with care,
The forthcoming concert; A grand Yeezy affair!
My iPhone was charging right next to my lamp,
To record the stage Kanye rides like a champ;
With Anne Marie fast asleep I tossed and I turned,
Awaiting the concert I knew I had earned,
When right on my phone there arose such a clatter,
I reached from my bed to see what was the matter.
The notifications from Twitter came fast,
The contents of which left me quite aghast!
The show had been cancelled, this missive suggested,
Kanye wouldn’t show because he hadn’t rested.
My heart slashed in two, I surrendered to slumber ,
This Kanye kerfuffle left my mind unencumbered.
Halfway through the night a heard a dope beat,
Coming from somewhere down on my street.
The bumps and the thumps, they imbued me with swagger,
I jumped from my bed. To the window I staggered.
Out the window I saw a steel stage in mid-air,
Was that? Could it be? I said a quick prayer.
Then Yeezus himself walk into the moonlight,
He shot me a wink that said “it’s a’ight.”
What I failed to notice, in that first special second,
Were the figures behind him he’d come to beckon.
In shadow they waited, hiding their fame,
And he beatboxed, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, TAYLOR! now, KIM! now, JAY-Z and CUDDY!
On, KIMMEL! on JAMIE! on, T-PAIN and DUFFY!
To the front of the stage! Put those mics in your hand!
We’re here to perform for my biggest fan!”
And then, in a twinkling, I heard the beat drop
Would my neighbors mind? Would they call the cops?
I took in a breath as West started rapping,
I didn’t dare move (except for my clapping).
He was wrapped in a fur, and wearing a kilt,
His red leather jacket was patchwork like a quilt;
The rhymes they did flow, and were totally dope,
They invaded my ears, filled my heart with hope.
Then Taylor jumped in, one rhyme after another!
How could I know they still liked each other?
Yeezy’s droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
preparing stage 2 of his oncoming flow;
The others came after, each singing their part,
Their words intertwined, counterpoint from the start;
Then Yeezy came back and spit some straight fire,
An effort that caused his great brow to perspire.
He was raucous and huffy, an unstable old poet,
And I laughed when I saw him. I hoped he didn’t know it;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word as the beat tapered off,
I tossed him my shirt to wipe his face off.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he tossed back my clothes;
The stage rose in the air, to his crew he held a finger,
Giving me time for the moment to linger.
I heard him exclaim, ere the stage rose out of sight,
“HAPPY YEEZMAS TO ALL, THERE’S YOUR G-D SOUND BITE!”