Happy new year to everyone dear
whose names belong to your alphabet song:
To A and H, J and K, B and C, D and E,G,P, T and V.
F and L, M and N, S, and X and Z, W,Q,and U, R,I,Y and O.
Play them on your own pirate station radio.

Start the next 365 days with good intentions
and peace pixel resolutions:
No more missiles. No more missing files.
No more money mad Machiavellians.
No more limp lessons to learn lessons.

Now, come on, holy brand names
and vote can-stuffing X canvassing psychos,
behave and put a lid on it.
Let’s listen to our pirate radios and sing together a bit.

Happy new year me hearties!
A new year sets sail round a flat world.
Maybe this one will end in treaties
lasting forever with hand grenades left rusting unhurled.

Poem written on 1st January 2024

Go to Source
Author: aprettykettleofpoetry

Similar Posts

Plight of the Freelance Underdog | Allison Grayhurst

By

A deformed creature who loses arms. The same cruel senselessness ensues from those arms of watered-down souls, corporate drones who feel no obligation to moral kindness or even simple, obvious justice, who ride their authority with spiked stirrups, having no regard for the one who carries them below or how hardworking and reliable their steeds…

Random Thoughts [by Lewis Saul]

Random Thoughts [by Lewis Saul]

By

Some random thoughts: Random.org Random.org is one of my favorite sites. I love to randomize all sorts of stuff. “The randomness comes from atmospheric noise, which is better than the pseudo-random number algorithms typically used in computer programs.” Nineteen Years Ago Stacey Harwood-Lehman published an essay at poets.org entitled The Well-Versed Movie. This well-written comprehensive…

Washed Up | Lynn White

By

So many dead people caught in the crossfire created by the the money men, the arms traders, the super ego-ed politicians. They lie dead where they fell. Flesh and blood transformed to fertilizer to nurture the seeds and grow the crops, in a future they will not see. Their bones decaying to dust to form…