At the Bottom of the Year

This was the year where the fabric showed the fray.
Yesterday’s fine remnants will by tonight disintegrate;
watch the sepia and technicolor memory tatters fall away
to reveal the high definition empty clutter of today.
Eras have moved, the world has changed, and Lou Reed is dead.
The Prophesy of St Malachi has come to be;
the Last Catholic Pope resigned; the First Christian Pope sits in his stead.
And blind justice was assaulted and shot in the head
by thugs wrapped in patriotic rags screaming liberty
marching to tinkling spent shells
through elementary school halls become hells.
The broken sky is showing its cracks
as the storms are growing in stacks;
and as they deny it is happening they are gleefully mapping
the coming Northwest Passage and the business it will bring.
While glaciers older than agriculture become evaporate,
unveiling ancestors who perished in the last shift of climate
our heads buzz with news of sassy singers and their sexy shenanigans.
Our children turn inward as artificial environments trigger epigenetic autism;
Unresisting inmates doing hard time in candy crush prison,
clever screens are more charming than what lies outside them
These magic toys disconnect everyone through desire and games,
and soon daydreaming will be measured for commercial gains.

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