The Laureate-The New Tax Code

Pols pledged to help the Middle Class

and pull the poor from-out morass.

If new tax code aids most the rich,

it serves the few, forsakes the mass.

{Count the votes.}

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The Laureate-The Peace-pipe

We all should use a peace-pipe...

without tobacco, please.

Our Indians, who had a gripe,

found a respite may tension ease.

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The Laureate-Prez Toadys

His greatest foe...his ego,

too heavy is that cargo...

and strokes of praise

in White House maze

will not-well quell the undertow.

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The Laureate-Independent

Sans bias he looks fore and aft.

He checks who could soon guide the craft.

The Ship of State is his concern...
a Captain Queeg would just be daft.

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The Laureate-Threats

Prez tries to use his bully pulpits

to morph all there into his puppets.

He bullies all with callous threats...

all except the Soviets.

The Laureate-Bravery

Are the brave but fearless,

or grit’s stored in adrenaline?

The choice to fight or flee distress

are options chosen in the din.

It seems the brave deem greatest good

is to risk all for brotherhood.

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The Laureate-Our Congress

The problem for our pols

is they don’t feel our pain.

When they enact stringent laws,

for them they are not germane.

{That is how they operate,

they formed their own closed caste.

They isolate themselves

from every bill they pass.}

‘Tis time that we remind them

that when they pass a law,

every word within it

pertains to caste...and All.

{Note when you vote.}

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The Laureate-Modern Art

Art, in my youth, relaxed me,

the Arts in every form.

They seemed to let my Chi fly free,

serenity became the norm.

Now critics strive to reach new heights...

left peace and calm afar...

and I now find within floodlights

it’s Spam that rules, not Caviar.

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The Laureate-Truth

Truth that is stretched, becomes a lie,

it matters not who lends an aye.

All garnishes to slake the stake

are but more falsehoods you apply.

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The Laureate-The Decision

The “pros” arrayed as if to fight.

The “cons” aver their cause is right.

As time grows short, the boggled brain

oft asks the heart to solve its plight.

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

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The Laureate-A Presidential Tweet

As billionaire says laws unfair...

would start our nation with new plan.

Our Constitution, with his solution,

may serve but  rich men in our land.

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The Laureate-Clouds

They're not but art-forms in the sky.

They may exist that chi may fly.

So rest and let your mind roam free...

The answers may oft  linger nigh.

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The Laureate-Independence Day

Independence Day

Our Flag illumed by rocket’s glare.

Sousa’s marches fill the air.

Remember those who fought and died

that we, this day, as free men share.

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The Laureate-The Presidential Vote

Tell me why the prez that won

wants a review to be run.

The action wastes our time and tax...

and manifests delusions wax.

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