The day has arrived to cut last year's ties.
Acting as if by magic one will become wise.
With a simple turn of the page comes a clean slate.
Pretending past matters get lost with the date.
For one night at least all seems right with the planet.
At least to those that take it for granted.
The facts do not change or somehow rearrange.
Half the world is still some firing range.
The champagne pours and all raise a glass.
Clinking and clanking as they wait in mass.
Wanting to countdown like a shuttle launch.
And why not? NASA has hit a money flow staunch.
The seconds tick away and the same song ensues.
The way some people sound you thank God for the booze.
Confetti continues dropping down on your head.
An act the poor street cleaners surely must dread.
But because it is new and giving us a yearly taste.
Who cares if we can fill a battleship with the waste?
We'll add that to the file of last year's doing.
After all that is last year's food you are chewing.
The clean slate applies when benefits outweigh the cost.
Just like a good political debate, keep the meaning lost.
Then the aftershock begins to wear off from your drunk.
And you find all as it was, white men still can't slamdunk.
At least use some Lysol or Bleach on that clean slate.
Maybe the shine will tempt your fate.
As you see a reflection of what you put out for prostitution.
The face of you that begins to deepen its resolution.
The crosswalk of time never gives a sign.
It waits for no one while your wishes mine.
The page may turn and the slate may gleam.
But only that which stares back can attain that dream.
The cat starting writing and that is what came out. So there you go for my New Year's shout. Hope all have a good one and do their usual fun. So go ahead, clinking and clanking that glass, as all you'll get is a Happy New Year in rhyme from my little rhyming ass.
Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.