Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
It passed as champagne bubbles
uncorked the midnight hour,
its blaze of light a timeless sight
atop the Eiffel Tower.
Indoors chose those who'd 'made it',
outside poor flows who'll pay
for pensions which will coat the rich
on life’s unequal way.
Behind, an old age faded,
before the Internet,
between the two was hullaballoo
athirst for new and wet.
'Unlock the Future's windows! '
the festive millions cried,
'Fast set aside, let Past's bolts slide! '
and the old millenium died.
Few thoughts on the past were wasted,
no time to reminisce,
just seconds short when instincts fought
twixt piss and kiss for miss.
The ground swell was terrific,
prolific the morning press,
the flags unfurled as one world whirled
unheeding into the next.
Though some attach importance
to numbers prime and round,
to dates pîcked clean, it’s still to be seen
that such theorems are sound.
Two thousand years for Christians,
four more for wandering Jews,
since man pitched tents, paid Peter's pence
to [pl]ease religions’ dues.
Some believe in dinosaurs,
some in Men from Mars,
some that we're sent here to repent
sins woven into our stars.
So when the champagne's pouring,
when crowds roar, take time out,
for dreams make room before the tomb
ambitions brings to nowt.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
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