January 1

Times Square is empty of people.

No ball dropped.

No celebrations held.

No joy. No love. No nothing.

We have a new president but it doesn’t matter, Who would have ever predicted that the virus would run rampant across the country as well as half the world and annihilate ninety percent of our population in a matter of weeks.

We had an early winter ... too early. October brought in heavy snowfalls and blizzard conditions unlike anything ever seen before, and because of this, the virus mutated into well over two-hunred different strains, making it virtually impossible for scientists to not just create a cure, but keep millions of people alive in the process.

What makes this even worse? The Bubonic Plague has somehow crossed shore lines and waterways to find a friend in the virus. That was mid-November. By the near end of December, over two-hundred million lives were lost, with another sixty-five million either in hospitals, nursing facilities, tempoary shelters, or housed up like a drum in their own homes.

Those who haven’t died from this are also dying from starvation because every speck of food has either been bought out, or stolen from supermarkets across the country. The same can be said for the rest of the world, and as of yesterday, the thirty-first, the last live broadcast said the worldwide population is estimated to be below two billion people.

... and the snow is still falling.

Ofher people are dying because they are literally freezing to death. The old as well as the young. Electric companies have either powered down or just fliupped a switch and left everything behind. Clothing stores have been vandalized for heavy winter wear just to keep the body tempertures to near normal.

Cars are stalled on city streets and major highways, because there is no more fuel to keep them going. It’s the same thing for planes and trains. The safest travel would be by bicycle or on foot ... but to where? Be it directly across the street from you, or in another country, it is all the same.

What few people trying to survive; cluster in small groups, raiding places for what they can get. No one bothers wearing a mask any longer and social distancing has become social survival.

Today, in what I fear is the beginning of the last year for all of humanity and that the End of Days is finally upon us.

I wish you the best of luck wherever you may be. Luck is all we have left.

Sadly, I wrote yet another poem. More words. More thoughts. And for what? Who will read? Who ... will even care.

I guess this year it would be far better to say, “Happy Last Year.”

Just an Observation

We are born.

We die.

The middle,

reserved for what?

Like the Titanic,

we know the ending.

Why be born,

to just die.

Fifty years after the fact;

maybe one person will care.

Perhaps, the day after,

no one will.