At New Years Eve

This arbitrary conception,
     where mechanisms measure
elapsing time assume
inordinately significant true value
     come the last day/night

     of December with a boom
punctuated by exotic
     pyrotechnics, despite
     truth that ill of webbed,
     wide world spell doom

and fate of life (on
     planet unfitness Earth) going
     to hell in a handbasket
     (particularly for
     those deplorables)

headed toward a
     merciless fate bobbing
     along an invisible flume
analogous to ill
     fate awaiting recently

wedded bride and groom
pregnant ominous nameless
     lawless lex lucifer
     malevolent kindled
     forebodings loom

written within sacred
     ancient tracts, where room
men hating prognosticators inform
     believers that **** sapiens
     end will quickly zoom,

yet people party
     on as if humanity
     will continue
     without a hitch
for at least another millennium

     despite teetering, lumbering,
     and dragging
     Gumby Pokey
     forward ready to pitch
NO, not off to attend

     championship Quidditch
match, most likely
     rigged so that the rich
make out like Smokey
     and the Bandits, which

gamblers who bet
     on loosing team
forced to sell services for cheap
milking, their very
     gaunt looking cash cow

     faintly resembling, and for
     no rhyme nor reason
     summoning Uriah Heap
and thus ready and
     willing (desperately)

to parlay services and keep
on truck'n to accrue
     a little stash to purchase
     favorite liquor or *****
before the countdown to

     "HAPPY NEW YEAR"
finds motley crue
     dog tired and ready
     for twelve month long sleep.