The Poet-New Year's Toast

New Year’s Toast

We do not know what comes this year

yet raise and quaff your cup,

for we again will persevere...

once we sober up.

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The Poet-The Holiday Season

The Holiday Season

We hear this Season’s call to all,

the urge to bond...let hearts be gay.

Time flips his page as last sand’s fall,

a moment’s pause...then new birthday.

So let us celebrate and share

the joy this Season brings,

and pray our kith and kin are heir

to all the love that from it springs.

Happy Holidays!

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The Poet-The Constitution

The Constitution

“We the People” chose those words

two hundred years ago...and more.

But little knew the hazards

translations can outpour.

Seems ev’ry time a Prez makes Feds

law precedents oft change.

I wonder why the new bipeds

old judgments now estrange.

The words within appear in ink,

containing freedmen’s chi.

Interpreters must pause to think...

your gist may just morph destiny.

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The Poet-Illegal's Poll

Illegal’s Poll

Don’t deport me, let me stay.

I’ll work, earn cash...send far away.

Don’t need to be a citizen...

just let me stray among free men.

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The Poet-Affluenza

Affluenza

Affluenza runs amok...

we need a shot, or pill.

If wealth can for their children pluck

new words to save them when they kill.

A shot used to inoculate

the judge who will resolve their fate.

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The Poet-Yutu

Yutu

China’s now industrial...

sent Yutu to the moon.

This may help them pave the way

to send some smog there soon.

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The Poet-The Unearthly Visitor

The Unearthly Visitor

Meteorite or bolide?

One’s very bright, one’s rarely eyed.

A bolide buzzed Tucson last night,

but, no one saw the thing alight.

It’s much too late to run in fear,

but, pray big brother isn’t near.

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The Poet-The Polls

The Polls

Politician, lawyer, banker...

few are known to stir more rancor.

Skills now  held in low esteem,

because they fleece us as a team.

Pols make laws they need not heed.

Those laws are bent to lawyers’ need.

And bankers are their corrupt crew...

for all do service their god, Greed.

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The Poet-The Stock Market

The Stock Market

The market rose and now it falls...

a nameless few guide puts or calls.

Are they but very fearful bunch...

or do they on the their neighbors lunch?

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ISON's Demise

ISON’s Demise

If ISON has shattered,

and pieces are splattered,

but few on the face of the sun,

it will not have mattered,

‘less those which are scattered,

head straight for the earth as they run.

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The Poet-ISOD

ISON

Like Icarus old ISON came,

too near the sun

and gained same fame.

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The Poet-Thanksgiving Prayer

Thanksgiving Prayer

Oh God, who can in space deploy

the Suns and Earth and Man,

and for the food we’ll soon enjoy,

we’ll thank You best we can.

You've ask but love in payment...

dear God, that is an easy task.

We know our love is heaven sent

when we do that You ask.

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The Poet-Presidential Decree

Presidential Decree

Several times, I recollect,

I felt what Prez does incorrect.

I know I am but common man,

but this is what I understand.

Congress, Judges, President

must all agree on what is meant

to pass a law that’s fair to all,

and words then cast within cement.

When a Prez, by his decree,

interprets words within a law,

without a nod from all of three,

he has bypassed fair protocol.

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The Poet-J. P. Morgan Chase Bank

J. P. Morgan Chase Bank

They’re paying 13 billion

for lying...just a mite.

They don’t admit they’re wrong...

just some deals less than right.

When they agree to pay

such mammoth penalty,

a fool can surly guess

they filched more than times three.

Again, no Feds talk jail-time

for those illicit twerps...

although all know that bankers

are money-thieving perps. 

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The Poet-Power

Power

History shows in quests for power

egos loosed oft self-devour.

For never can they sate their thirst

and all their spoils, in time, turn sour.

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The Poet-When the Rich Enrich

When the Rich Enrich

Some are the lowest of the low,

the business man without a soul.

Though rich, they violate our Mores

and ship their toxins to our stores.

Some drugs and food and smokes and booze

were told to use are safe to use.

But minions of the FDA

may not have done good jobs this day.

And lobbyist oft bias laws

to bend them to a seedy cause.

Buyers beware the wise men say...

and very aware of crooks this day.

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The Poet-The Comet

The Comet

ISON comes to visit...

now seen by naked eye.

applaud it and enjoy the sight...

unless it fills the sky.

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The Poet-Our Sun Flips?

Our sun flips?

Boffins say ole Sol will flip...

that means the market’s gonna dip.

But it’s because the fools who play

can only guess what comes our way.

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The Poet-Go-chay

Go-chay

The Go-chay is descending...

that means the satellite will crash.

The boffins say don’t worry,

go ahead take out the trash.

The odds say it hits water...

seventy percent they guess, by math.

And, I say too you oughter

stay out of lakes, or pools, or bath.

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The Poet-20 Billion Planet Earths?

20 Billion Planet Earths?

Twenty billion planet earths

are out there in the universe?

I thought that counting stars was bad,

but counting planets is much worse.

Boffins, quit the foolishness,

until you’re sure withhold your guess.

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The Poet-Obamacare...again

Obamacare...again.

Dear Prez, you offer history

Obamacare for misery.

But, what you’d scribe into Time’s book

is middle class must pay the fee.

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The Poet-Obamacare (redux)

Obamacare (redux)

O’er forty percent are on the dole,

which means they have but little dough...

which means someone must pay their way...

which means the middle class, you know.

My provider sent its plans

to meet Obamacare.

I’ve used this business sixteen years

and always found it fair.

But now its prices double...

that you may give my half away

The middle class has trouble...

when we can’t trust a word you say.

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The Poet-November

November

Be thankful for November,

a month filled for reflection.

It barely starts, and we must pick

our choices for election.

Soon we pause to recognize

the vets who served to keep us free...

and those who died on foreign soils

deserve acclaim eternally.

He who guides us on our path

is honored on Thanksgiving Day.

Our Mores and more were sent by Him

and from His side we must not stray.

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The Poet-Halloween

Halloween

It is that time, All Hallows Eve…

when minds run free to make believe.

But pause, that mask you choose to wear

may hide, or bare, what you’d achieve.

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The Poet-The Boomerang Cold?

The Boomerang Cold?

The coldest in the universe...

the boffins bode is Boomerang...

a nebula quite far away

where temps will freeze both Yin and Yang  

But I would say ‘twas felt one day

when I had asked a girl to dance.

Her response was, “go away”...

there’s nothing colder than her glance.

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The Poet-Modus Vivendi (Way of Life)

Modus Vivendi (Way of Life) 

The Red and Blue seem satisfied

the closed door is ajar.

They hope we think we’re past the brink

and they have left no scar.

The only thing they’ve done for us,

their modus operandi,

is wait once more to near that door...

for their modus vivendi.

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The Poet-Congress Needs Less Lawyers

Congress Needs Less Lawyers.

Congress needs less lawyers...

it needs more CFOs.

A lawyer’s trait is prate debate...

and, as they do, our debt still grows.

Our Prez, who guides our Nation,

deems raising ceilings of the debt

is how you balance budgets...

or, as close as you need get.

Tell that to a CFO,

he’ll state, in time, there’s no more dough. 

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The Poet-The Color of States

The Color of States

Democrats were Blue.

Republicans were Red...

until Tea Party idiots      

climbed into their bed.

Now Democrats are gray,

because they have no say.

The Prez says what they think,

and makes them vote in sync.

The GOP may color lack...

it’s tainted by a Tea that’s black.

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The Poet- Remember The Game of Chicken, Pols.

The Game of Chicken.

Remember the game of “chicken”

...if both should win, then both would die.

The game you play of “chicken”

involves us all, but few asked try.

The fools who watched those contests

mistakenly thought players bold...

spectators of your contest

responded when your fans were polled.

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The Poet-Dear Pols

Dear Pols

You won’t approve a budget.

You shut the country down.

You furloughed some gov workers...

less those you need around.

The nation spoke in anger.

Those furloughed got back-pay.

They have a paid vacation,

and taxes waste away.

{Such logic, folks, is gray.} 

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The Poet-Atomic Particle (The Boson, etal)

Atomic Particles

(The boson, etal)

When I was a lad in school,

the atoms were quite simple.

But as I grew...seems they did too...

their insides more than triple.

With Leptons, Mesons, Quarks,

where do they find the room?

And, now they have a Boson...

a much too-crowded womb.

But, that newfangled stuff

is caused by cosmic rays.

Thank God when hit both parties flit,

then travel on their short-lived ways.
{But don't despair, their rare in there}

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The Poet-The Washington Redskins

The Washington Redskins...etal

Since nineteen and thirty-seven,

a team this mascot claimed.

And, many pondered through the years,

but few believed their lore defamed.

When teams search for a mascot,

the names must auger power...fame.

To think, to some this is a slur...

methinks their protest is inane.

But, our Prez agrees with them...

it‘s now his cause de jour.

If so, my friends, my poem ends...

our pols know not real problems cure.

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The Poet-State of the Union

The State of the Union

I’m frankly tired of watching pols

force us to a precipice.

It’s not TV reality.

It’s but today, and what’s amiss...

you can’t replay and gaffes dismiss.

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The Poet-Our Problem?

Our problem?

The House, now Red, has earned more votes

but, the Senate dominates.

The Prez says how the Senate coats...

and in dark Blue the Prez dictates.

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The Poet-Obamacare

Obamacare

O’er forty percent are on the dole,

which means they have but little dough...

which means someone must pay their way...

which means the middle class, you know.

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The Poet-Ocktoberfests

Oktoberfests

The hops that fuel the dance and beer

can fill your world with love and cheer.

And that will last and vivify

till kegs run dry or legs run ‘wry.

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The Poet-The Red, The Blue...The Budget

The Red, the Blue...the Budget

Just pause! Agree to disagree,

then let no biased thoughts fly free.

Your white, their black, should augur gray...

so, wend to blend toward harmony.

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The Poet-Punctuation Day

Punctuation Day 

(9/24/13)

That day was precious to the few

who write in prose or verse.

It’s those who tweet that think it’s neat

to bend the rules to make words terse.

To break their code, I bought an app...

their texter’s dictionary.

I still can’t read some hieroglyphs...

why are they so contrary?

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The Poet-Smart Phones

Smart Phones

Dick Tracy had a wrist watch

with TV telephone.

I thought that it was fantasy,

and one no one would ever own.

But, now I have a smart phone,

through new technology,

and it contains a hundred apps...

though I use maybe three.

Each month, it seems, new phones do more,

and others fly to buy...

but, to me, a telephone

is used to just say, “Hi!”

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The Poet-Letters to the Editor

Letters to the Editor

Each day I read the paper

to learn what some divine

as problems they think worthy

that I should know what they opine.

I find this is important.

It tells me what’s amiss.

It tells me what my peers now think

deserve a hiss or kiss.

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The Poet-The Costa Concordia

The Costa Concordia
The Concordia now floats on fame...

though engineers have earned it.

Will medias give them just acclaim,

or torture all with more obit?

This saga lasted o’er two years

‘tis time we dried foul yestertears.

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The Poet-Worth Repeating

Again a Cliff!

My God!  We face another cliff...

and we will face it days away.

The cast of players and their rift

again will force all logic stray.

Seems the parties Red and Blue

have polarized all votes...

let all turn gray and have their say

to keep the Ship of State afloat.

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The Poet-Voyager Screamed

Voyager Screamed

Our spacecraft screamed, but don’t be sad...

I think that you would too,

if you had searched a billion miles

and still can’t find a loo.

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The Poet.-Farewell Voyager (Redux))

Fare Thee Well, Voyager! {redux}

Once again, I say “God speed”...

‘cause scientists have felt the need

to question where the hell you are...

for we just know you’ve traipsed afar.

If someone in the great unknown

finds our craft, {location blown},

let someone know by telecon

just where the hell is “Great Beyond.”

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The Poet-Patriot's Day

Patriot’s Day

Patriots Day is far from new.

The brave respond when troubles brew.

They fought for independence,

and they’re still there when times are tense.

So let us rise to honor them...

embrace, support and call them friend

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The Poet-Rodman and Kim

Rodman and Kim

Rodman and Kim are pals they say...

they both dig basketball.

But Kim’s games maim and bode doomsday...

old pros don’t heed the Rodman call.

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The Poet-It's a LADEE

It’s a LADEE

(Lunar Atmosphere and Dust Environment Explorer)

NASA, it seems, is getting clever...

sent a robot to the moon.

Men on the moon they opt to sever...

no golf, no flags less landscape ruin.

But don’t they know their robot critter

will leave damn near a ton of litter?

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