The Laureate-2018 Toast

2018 Toast

We know not of what comes this year...

still lift and quaff your cup.

There’s time to find if babe bodes fear...

when we sober up.

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The Laureate-New Year's Resolutions

New Year’s Resolutions

I don’t make resolutions

to wipe bad habits clean.

For if I do...and follow through,

how would my wife then vent her spleen?

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The Laureate-2018

2018

You best reflect on this year.

Remember all the ills amassed

were never found beyond control...

and pray not new year last.

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The Laureate-My New Year’s Toast

My New Year’s Toast

Near time to bid this year adieu...

the ”Rah” or “Bah” is up to you.

If '18 has his father’s genes,

I’ll smash my glass...my kismet sue.

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The Laureate-The Present

The Present

Each sunset sends its challenge

to all who view below.                 

Begin to sculpt your morrow

before the cock next crow.

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

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The Laureate-Christmas Day.

Christmas Day

Gift wraps are off. The meal consumed

and seasoned with both love and cheer.

Pray Season’s magic will preserve

our love throughout the coming year.

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The Laureate-His Season

His Season

We share the present of the past

as this Season comes to close,

because for most the memoirs last

of special times that ended woes.

At Hanukkuh some celebrate

the time their Temple was set free.

At Christmas some commemorate

the birth of Christianity.

Menorah or a Christmas tree,

Olive oil or Magi gold,

are there to share in amity...

vow never let our warmth grow cold.

But He said heed your brother’s call...

and Brotherhood applies to all.

So let us celebrate and share,

and help our brothers in despair.

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The Laureate-He listens!

He listens!

Priest, and Dervish, and old Rabbi,

all who implore their God on High,

know He hears their every word,

but which of them will He deny?

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

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The Laureate-The Reds', “Survivor” {Re: Virginia, Alabama, et al}

The Reds', “Survivor”

{Re: Virginia, Alabama, et al}

Red pols play their, “Survivor.”

They lie and cheat when they compete...

and they’ll adjust the final score,

if a Blue should win the seat.

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The Laureate-The Red’s Tax Bill

Red’s Tax Bill For The Rich

It’s been near year until

you passed a major bill.

I’ll wait to not congratulate...

till proven not a toxic pill.

{...that surrogates must abrogate.}

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The Laureate-Our Congress 121917

Our Congress 121917

Infrastructure money

you transfer to the rich...

and a trillion dollars more

you’ll evidently pitch.

Tell us how your promises,

we trusted you to keep,

will be met, when our debt

will haunt descendant’s sleep.

{You’re making America grate...again!}

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The Laureate-Caveat Venditor

Caveat Venditor

We need to have a guarantee

from those who seek our vote.

What they have sold to you and me

turned poison with no antidote. 

{Caveat Emptor is too late...

the Prez may choose the magistrate.}

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The Laureate-The Truth!

The Truth!

The lesson for today, my friends,

Is when a Red Pol speaks,

listen closely...then wait to see

how much he later tweaks.

{...and what the Prez may “tweet,”

bodes that disparate, bares deceit.}

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The Laureate-The Red Spearhead

The Red Spearhead

Your tax plan gives the rich a boon,

enough to make your donors swoon.

All wealthy soon will be well paid,

the rest you need not importune.

{But votes may soon end your charade.}

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The Laureate-All the President’s Men

All the President’s Men

The Prez wants men who answer, “yes.”

It matters naught how much they know...

that’s why his first year is a mess,

and many he chose had to go.

Now he wants to choose who judges...

use same logic as the rest.

He wants a judge that never budges

from that which he "tweets" when he’s stressed.

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This Season's Chill

This Season’s Chill

It is the season of good will,

but parasites the warmth now chill.

The vermin use their scams and spam

to their malicious schemes fulfill. 

{May our laws trap these parasites...

and naught but torment fill their nights!}

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The Laureate-Alabama Voted

Alabama Voted

Mores of Alabama

are now known clear to all.

They heard the propaganda,

but did not heed the Prez’ call. 

(Never send a man of sin...

the righteous balk to let him in.)

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The Laureate-Trump's Magic

Trump’s Magic

Trump must have magic in his hat,

but is a damned poor diplomat.

When he denied he vexed their sex,

all twelve morphed to a Democrat.
{They are now outlyers.}

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The Laureate-Our President!

Our President!

From what we’ve seen, it’s evident

our Prez would help the opulent.

Why not!  That which he gives to them

is too his rich descendants sent.

 { Prez makes Our Country ”grate” again!}

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The Laureate-Media Spice

Media Spice

The Media oft fills the air

with chosen facts they deign to share,

and have "consultants" spice their feast

to prepare their chosen fare.

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

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The Laureate-Those Who Vote

Those Who Vote

Would that all are independent,

attached to neither Red nor Blue.

They’d listen but to their Chi’s bent...

and not succumb to biased cue.

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The Laureate-Harassment 12817

Harassment 12817

Our ladies have revolted,

state males in power are corrupt.

If that be true, I ask of you.

why is it that they now erupt?

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The Laureate-Pray U.S.A.

Pray U.S.A!

Our biggest liars, pols.

Their  biggest lies, our tax.

Note when they say they grant a boon,

that which we owe will wax.

{It’s my deduction!}

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The Laureate-Politicians Heed!

Politicians heed!

Those who march to vent their spleen

are angry for on whom you dote.

Although the rich with cash support,

the swollen throngs anon will vote.

{Make note!}

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The Laureate-Dear Prez, Re: Roy Moore, et al

Dear Prez 12517, re: Roy Moore, et al

When men our mores disregard

and acts say you don’t care,

I find your sense of Justice marred

and false to that you swear.

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The Laureate-Roy Moore, et al

Roy Moore, et al

When young we bare naiveté,

pardoned from most rules we stray.

But once full grown, the sins we own

and wear until we’re old and gray.

Even though score years have passed

since all new sins have been amassed,

those scars forever you adorn,

and ever limn your adult past.

{God knows...no matter how you blow your horn.}

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The Laureate-Politicos Unite!

Politicos Unite!

I never thought it could happen…

politicos unite!

Republicans and Democrats

at last do what’s deemed right!

The president and congress

together in one cause,

and when time came to cast a vote…

not even one short pause!

They solved our every problem

with hardly one harsh word

and not a whiff of pork

when all states’ pots were stirred.

But then, it didn’t happen.

It was but my heart’s theme...

for when I heard the morning news,

I knew ‘twas but a dream.

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The Laureate-Tax Reform Celebration...NOT!

Tax Reform Celebration...NOT!

The Red pols have the die now cast,

all tax mistakes, in time, amassed.

If their calculations wrong,

the rich stay rich...will Red pols last?

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The Laureate-Tis the Season

‘Tis The Season

Cards and gifts and food are sent,

the kinship felt is evident.

We send them our good will and love,

and wish them blessings from above…

but have we summed the times this year,

we offered them this love and cheer?

This season we oft firm resolve

to shuck bad habits and evolve.

So from this day, let us firm vow

to aid the grieving ever…now.

Salve too late their misery

anon aptly our history.

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The Laureate-Our New Taxes

Our New Taxes

Prez says, if signed, his tax grows tall

and most will find their taxes fall.

If this be true, I must ask you,

“Why do the Red pols now guffaw?”

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The Laureate-Technology’s Reality

Technology’s Reality

Long before I watched TV

the radio would humor me.

With only sound as medium,

I’d had to listen to my Chi.

And now TV or flick,

regardless of that which you pick.

can color what you see

with tint or taint they choose gnostic.

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The Laureate-The Tax...Relax!

The Tax...Relax!

In thanks for their “dark money”

Red pols reduced their tax.

To Middle Class they have the brass

to say the rich will all enrich...

Relax!

{EH?}

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The Laureate-The Vote

Some feel that they are party bound...

their choice is if they’re Red or Blue.

The sage will judge who should be crowned

and votes for whom...not hue.

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The Laureate-"Let Them Eat Cake!"

“Let Them Eat Cake!”

I hope new Tax Law news is fake...

or Reds the Middle Class forsake.

Or billionaires control affairs

and would have all the rest eat cake.

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the Laureate-The Alabama Vote

The Alabama Vote...{or any}

If your hue is Red or Blue...

both candidates you’d bid adieu,

he who fails your ethos least

is dyed in less-stench residue.

{Stay free of the burden of hue

and Chi, alone, will pressure you.}

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The Laureate-News Blues

                          News Blues

I should not read the paper,

nor watch the TV news.

I usually end up

with anger…or the blues.

These times can never be

the good old days of past.

Right now I only pray

the present days don’t last.

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The Laureate-Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

For what can I be thankful

when I peruse the news?

Our world is filled with suffering

and terrorism brews.

I’m thankful I’m American,

where freedoms are assured.

I’m thankful for my kith and kin,

whose love o’er time endured.

I’m thankful for my health...

regardless how I ache.

I’m thankful God grants me a wife

who ever will our true-love slake.

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The Laureate-Executive Action

Executive Action
{Redux}

Three tests make laws official...

the Prez, the Hill, Judicial.

Allow the Prez control them all,

you’ll sense the Constitution’s knell.

{and Putin may among us dwell.}

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The Laureate-Sexual Harassment

Sexual Harassment

Power corrupts and always will,

if the those outraged must remain still.

And Justice can her blindfold keep,

but mute the celeb’s innate shill.

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The Laureate-He Who Leads

He Who Leads

If CEO hires fools to lead,

and when they fail repeats the deed.

‘Tis best seek change and him estrange

to find the one who fills your need.

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The Laureate-The Tax Quack

The Tax Quack

Smile! You now give the Middle Class

the finger and create morass.

You tend to think your polls won’t sink

no matter what you ask pols pass.

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The Laureate-The Tax Plan

The Tax Plan

Take care, my Prez, on whom you dote.

Although the rich had cinched last vote,

if your plan aids the wealthy most,

the Middle Class will that fact note. 

{and will remember on next vote.}

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The Laureate-Your Critics

Your Critics

Though thousands view your works of art,

you rarely know what you impart.

The answer is those who return

would know if you scaled Art’s rampart.

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The Laureate-Lines in the Sand

Lines in the Sand

{To Trump and Kim Jong}

But fools draw lines upon the sand,

for bigger fools may cross.

Then both will glare and stomp and stare...

unmindful of potential cost.

Their egos now are in control,

and egos find it hard to bend.

The threats galore may end in war...

and that they rend may never mend.

Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.