O' 2010, “O'!”

To the year below, all begone and to history. 
To you, 2010.
The past is yours with all its digital replenishments, and embellishments,
and the future is for the people who will read about us later and say, “What hogwash!”.

To 2010, o' year of instant calamity. You hit us with everything you've got.
And it's still not enough. Quite done with you. So there.

Here's your poem 2010, and off with you!
Dedicated to all the sentient beings who lost lives
senselessly and without compassion this year:
Humans, animals, plants, cells.

May we transform our relationships.

O' 2010, “O'!”

In numbers alone you came.
We measured you by the grain.
Another year, you were so profane.
O' 2010!

For the news, communication, conversation.
To the media, that drives sensation.
To my newest app and moral conflagration.
Here's to you!

Your numbers managed sickness and sleight of hand,
and the joys for many, were like quicksand.
Though the true people are still here to stand.
And wave you gone.

From the murder, theft, snark, and ballyhoo,
to the latest snuff news, we're stuck like glue.
I have to text it now or else you know I'm through!
O' what a lie.

You sold it over and over, with no reaction.
A shudder, loud word, or human traction.
Everyone just stood absorbed in maniaction.
Yes, you're a joke.

Counting friends, family, people, the sick, and the dead,
and our living being friends, most filled with dread.
Can you call yourself human instead?
No?  I say, “Next please.”.

To the politicians who dashed our hopes,
as some power climbed the velvet rope.
“We're down here waiting!”--- But they said “Nope.”.
And so it goes.

To my loved ones in America, who also went,
through this year, which we all know, was quite bent.
Knowing people in other places, are all quite spent.
From all the laughter.

To this country, that made us wait.
And to the people, some filled with hate.
Now all that good “light”, is going to have to wait.
For 2011.

Writers will write about how you've grown,
from a wee baby to an old, dead bone.
And now the dustbin's from where you'll phone,
"O' 2010!".

Hope you make peace there my little friend,
because your reign here's about to end.
A hurried exit? No, it's just a trend.
Just like you.

The miracles came and surely shined,
and hit me upside, to make up my mind.
That positive is the only thought, that isn't blind.
To what you showed me.

I want to thank you, O' teacher great.
For delivering us, with heaps of fate.
To energetically, know just what's on our plate.
In days ahead.

So as you go dear, please shut the door,
I have some things to do, you filthy snore.
'Til we read our history: “The days of yore”.
You were a yawn.

O', 2010, you won't be missed,
I have had plenty of time to have you dissed.
You're now a figment upon my fist.
O', thank heavens!

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