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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