The Laureate-Identity Thieves

God-fearing lives through kin live on.

The cannibal just sups...and gone.

They eat Man's flesh and dance with pride,

and care not what survives anon.

{Pray may they in God’s hell abide!}

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The Laureate-Sunset...watch and learn

Oh, watch and learn as sun will set.

Oft fortune limns as twilight’s met...

first rose, then gray, and soon to black.

The tone “postpone” o’er time will get.

            {From the book, Rubai by James E. Cox}

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The Laureate-Gun Control

We made a list for terrorist,

but look at future perps we missed.

Seems we need adding to the files

the crazed, the manic, biased...pissed.

Take from them their guns and shells

and they’re effete when anger swells.

{It damned near covers all.} 

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The Laureate-Father's Day

No longer do they ride a steed.

Yet, are they not the selfsame breed?

Their dragons, jousts and far crusades

are the battles fought to fill each need.

{From the book, Rubai by James E. Cox}

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The Laureate-Tonic or Toxin

Tonic or toxin?  Cure or cake?

This day’s true too oft found fake.

Choose soupcons and variety

and sup on less of each mistake.

{From the book,  As the Mood Prescribes by James E. Cox}

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The Laureate-The Greeting

The greeting, be it words or grip,

deserves your supreme censorship.

It can loose camaraderie...

or quell pursuit for fellowship.

Observe the tone, the eyes, the stance...

the heart oft bares an air askance.

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The Laureate-Iraq

After umpteen  years, seems now,

we’ve warped into but their cash cow!

We fought the fight to set them free,

and our troops faced adversity.

But after all these many years,

when we rebuilt and dried their tears,

they cannot seem to save their land...

without another helping hand.

I dare to say we’ve done enough.

It’s time that our love becomes tough.

If they can’t stir their patriots,

let ISIS only earn our thoughts.

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The Laureate-The Stock Market (Prose Poem)

All who play in this bizarre casino become whirling marionettes whose strings are controlled by the gluttonous gamin of greed. Its electronic tentacles reach out to every corner of the world, and a million dreams are devoured in less than a heartbeat. The players become mindless puppets, who attempt to kiss the golden horns of Mammon, before Dame Luck turns her gaze askew. The object of the game is to form the highest mountain of wealth before the toll of the closing bell brings an end to that days contest. To meet this end, each contestant has a plethora of presumptions on how other players will react to vacuous information that flows along the ethereal electronic Styx that connects the real world and Elysium.

An Industrial giant can be brought to its knees because it failed to meet the expectation that some mind (unknown to most) pulled from ether vast as a maxim that it must obey.

Its very existence is threatened because a dividend missed that hazy target by  a few cents. Floods of tears are shed by those who guessed wrong about the giant‘s fate, but those astute players who guessed right will bear smiles that will outshine the sun in a cloudless sky. Few contestants realizing that their actions controlled the giant‘s fate.

Never has a game been played simultaneously by more opponents.

Never has there been more at stake.

Never has inanity had more control.

 {From The Essence of Jim by James E. Cox}

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The Laureate-Fracking (and drinking water)

I feel my doubt a shame,

or, my logic is to blame.

when businesses or Uncle Sam,

by words or fancy diagram,

say that which they have tested

proved naught should be arrested,

it is to me another sham.

I fear it is but same

as who received no blame...

when as the ground began to shake

we’re told it’s worth the chance we take.

{Know he who makes such guarantee

consigns it to our progeny.}

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The Laureate-'Tis Time

‘Tis time, indeed, that you appraise

the misspent hours within Life’s maze

there are never enough tomorrows

to amend lost yesterdays.

{From the book, Rubai by James E. Cox}

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The Laureate-Blackmail

Blackmail

{Re: Dennis Hastert, et al}

Blackmailers are no better

than the perps who did the crime.

They zip their lip for money

and merge together in the slime.

The years that pass by Justice

let they who suffer wait.

Now both of them must heed the toll...

and there is none that is too great.

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