Writing new year [PG]

[Guest Phaedrus]

another year of the dream has passed by our eyes in a scream of
seconds hours minutes days weeks months
another three hundred sixty-five and one-fourth days passed
quickly boldly blazenly vastly

what'd the universe do? it maybe moved an eye to the side
saw the mirage in its vast oasis smiling like a know-it-all
fatuously pompously prissily piously
what'd the universe do? it maybe moved an eye to the side

ticker-tape parades and happy-go-lucky drunken little charades,
dancing madness of ecstasy raves and in their silence sits a sage,
dumb-witted but growing, frustrated but glowing burning calm rage

ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero
down they count the rocket launch of another endeavour
into the great depths of their own status quo of time
tick-tockenly drum-beatingly repetitiously

ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero
abysmally emptily isolatedly alonely
zero is the hero, a caped-crusader blowing dust
sandily coldly ashenly grainily

what'd the universe do? maybe moved an eye
in REM dreaming of some mad sleeping
what'd the universe do? kept going on
while our fate's sealed in the sieve of time

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]While your point is valid, I can't help but think it sounds like your whining. All time should be judged this way -- no need to pick on New Years. Pointless as it is -- we celebrate it's hold on us and theres no point complaining. In a way -- your deduction of the uselessness of counting time is equally as useless as counting time itself. You probably knew that, though. I can't help but think this poem wasproduced from a sadness your already feeling, no?

Not bad, anyway. As I said --- you do have a point. [/COLOR]

[Guest Phaedrus]

[QUOTE=2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange]While your point is valid, I can't help but think it sounds like your whining. All time should be judged this way -- no need to pick on New Years. Pointless as it is -- we celebrate it's hold on us and theres no point complaining. In a way -- your deduction of the uselessness of counting time is equally as useless as counting time itself. You probably knew that, though. I can't help but think this poem wasproduced from a sadness your already feeling, no?

Not bad, anyway. As I said --- you do have a point. [/COLOR][/QUOTE]

Yes, your summation of what the poem embodies is very perceptive. It was new years, and I was feeling a shall we say "emotional baggage" which entombed itself within this poem as a reflection of my soul when I made it. I don't necessarily view things in the particular light that was cast when I made the poem, but I especially was feeling it when I made it.

In a deeper sense, I am whining. I'm whining because as I see it, our race is intonating its own extinction. But at this point I don't care anymore--I'm going to enjoy the moments that the universe has allowed me to have, and seek to understand that which seems so elusive as well as I can, too.