The Fat Lady Sings

When compasses are all aligned

    and needles point to truest north

    we'll celebrate the coming forth

of man's recalibrated mind

and hold our hands and dance with glee

    upon the grave that is the world

    and see the flags of peace unfurled

across the heavens' canopy

in melted colour, vivid, flapping,

    thwicking thwacking in the wind

    and cry with faces drawn and thinned

from lack of sleep and endless clapping—

and when the bells ring in the new

    and ring the old convictions out

    we'll beat the square pegs in a rout

to clear the field for me and you

to build our global village up

    and raise our kids to think like us,

    without the politics and fuss,

and with our overrunning cup

of happiness and health we'll raise

    a toast for uniformity

    and comfortable conformity,

all clean and pressed for salad days,

like tender fishes in a tin,

    we'll thank the godless heavens for

    the loss of poverty and war

and for the blissful state we're in

until the twinkling stars above

    the cattletrucks have waned away

    and all the cows are home to stay

stuffed full of joy and peace and love.

12.16.14