POEM: First Night Dreadnaught

December 30, 2012 · Scotorum

This was written for the CPC Magic Monday poetry challenge, where New Year’s celebrations is the theme.

FIRST NIGHT DREADNAUGHT

The night before the night before
was much like the night after.
There was much peace, a little war,
some anger and some laughter.

T’was not until the night before
the party became earnest.
Then merriment erased the bore
and forgot the sternest.

But what did celebrating mean,
an ending or a start,
or something in between:
dead horse ahead of cart?

For if we see the truthful scenes
before the celebrations,
national debt beyond our means
might merit hesitations.

Disarmament plot weavery
leaves helpless vulnerable;
while fiscal cliff’s planned thievery
robs those who are most able.

Massive voting fraud’s ignored.
Result is called democracy.
The bull of justice has been gored
by rankest hypocrisy.

Commander gets our thanks, hats doff
when evil serves his vanity.
The steepest cliff we’re riding off
is marked clearly: “sanity.”

Perhaps a more uncertain year
has never loomed ahead.
By end we will have failed, I fear
to vanquish all the dread.