allegiances

the English proletariate's aggrieved
at policies set by the One Percent
and so they voted Britain ought to leave
and sever trade-ties to the Continent
but Scots are loathe to see liasons fade
they're Europeans no less than they're Brits
since Adam Smith, staunch champions of Trade
rewarding not just resources, but wits
United Kingdom's in for a rough ride
Leviathan's been taken down a peg
is this the wound that leaves the thrones untied
the body politic shorn of one leg
the centre cannot hold; thing fall apart
a great unravelling had petty start

loyal to her people

a candidate wed to the status quo
hopes it's enough she's not the other guy
her focus groups assure her that it's so
it's in the bag, she need not even try
eight years elapsed in which the big banks grew
and we're still on the hook if they should fail
but her constituents are the rich Few
for whom a "penthouse" doesn't mean a jail
until November, anxieties mount
'though she nipped Sanders, riding his dark horse
as California readjusts the count
unbendingly, she grimly stays the course
content the voters have no place to turn
she gives no hint she understands the Bern

class warfare

the status quo has served the Clintons well
they've joined the Ruling Class' moneyed ranks
no matter it's a marriage made in Hell
they've hitched their wagon to the biggest banks
Piketty warned us of this downward slope
as capital's ingathered to the Few
as Bernie fades, so fades the People's hope
that we may share the nation's bounty, too
real wages don't reflect the market's gain
that bankers divy in the bonus pool
while Bill assures us that he feels our pain
his wife serves Wallstreet as its faithful tool
be happy that a woman gets her turn
but this one really doesn't feel the Bern        

retrograde II

unending peace need not exceed our grasp
if we'd but raise our eyes above the State
and grant Leviathan a higher task
a League of Nations pacifying Fate
extrapolating Hobbes to span the world
each nation ceding partial sovereignty
what benefits to every boy and girl
would flow from its benign hegemony
monopolizing force would make it moot
for want of any Other to attack
were there no "them" there'd be no one to shoot
no bogeyman to hurl our insults back
Kant's vision may yet--one day--come to pass
were Boris Johnson not a braying ass

retrograde

for Scots, the Brexit came as a surprise
that frayed their linkage to the continent
United Kingdom suddenly unties
as Edinburgh blows off parliament
three score and ten years Europe's mostly calm
and mutual destruction's just a threat
'cause everybody's got an Atom Bomb
and no one's mad enough to drop one (yet)
the centre cannot hold; things fall apart
as London bridles at the Brussels path
and Caledonians prepare to chart
new trade relationships with better math
and England might float free, 'though float alone
unshackled on her disunited throne

under the bus

Mohammed Morsi shook the Saudi throne
assuming rule by popular consent
if Arabs could select one of their own
what others might embrace his precedent
but Washington won't call this coup a "coup"
and billions unabated flow in aid
no matter what the Cairo junta do
we guarantee the officers get paid
behind our rhetoric, one hard fact lurks
the people on the street don't have our trust
in Egypt, it's the army corps that works
where other institutions are a bust
we preach the Rights of Man, but it's a sham
when--tangibly--we just don't give a damn

dark ops

McChrystal ran the show at Special Ops
whatever a battalion couldn't do
bin-Laden's agents never reached the top
each suddenly expired at "number two"
decapitation's not a strategy
but keeps a non-state actor leaning back
if we don't grant them legitimacy
we claim a freer hand in our attack
bin Laden brought the struggle to our shore
which struck Americans as so unfair
unhesitating to engage in war
as long as all the bleeding's over there
no monument's erected in the park
to those whose war's conducted in the dark

two trumpets

haTikvah sang Israelis' theme of hope
emerging from a genocidal war
but now they seem enamored of the dope
who says things can't be like they were before
as if to work for peace were a vain dream
they re-elect the huckster without peer
a virtuoso on one limbic theme
he sells instead a politics of fear
his brother--whom they loved--ain't coming back
they trusted that he truly walked the walk
but Bibi wants Obama to attack      
glib talker who just mimes the role of 'hawk'
 a Jewish State must live Mishpat Echat
and can't claim veto on what neighbors do
this Occupation can't be--and is not--
compatible with being a good Jew
while negative campaigning's all the rage
both Trump and Bibi sing from the same page    

externalities

extractive industries foist off the cost
off ecosystems trashed to make a buck
each river dammed's a verdant eden lost
the frontier mindset couldn't give  fuck
deforestation forced  a shift to coal
and now our oysters strain to make a shell
the fossil carbon dug out of that hole
has made our oceans an acidic Hell
while Dyson dreams of planets where we'll roam
he disregards six thousand years of past
we've made a dunghill out of this, our home
what's irreplaceable's eroding fast
we fight for mansions on these hills of trash
we've built ourselves in the pursuit of cash       

is there anybody out there?

communication's hopeless from the start
if I can't prove that you exist at all
and our most elevated heart-to-heart
might just as well be murmured to a wall
deductively, I only know "je suis"
there may be no reality "out there"
if universe could end with "I", not "we"
we're solipsists adrift on unseen air
or each of us Narcissus at his pond
enamored of the visage we project
desiring someone else with whom to bond
or--minimally--someone to reject
to function, we become willfully blind
and tell ourselves we know another's mind

exploitative

both Hillary and Donald beat the drum
to bomb DAESH to 'venge Orlando's dead
as if they knew whence Omar's ideas come
and who instilled such hatred in his head
they share an injudicious temperment
that has our closest allies shitting bricks
we can't be safe behind our armaments
if they're the sort our voting public picks
the White House staff can brief their boss on fact
no president need memorize it all
but when our courts or military act
I want a sober leader on the ball
exploiting tragedy is too obscene
the Pulse's perpetrator was from Queens

meddler

when Kissinger was shaping policy
he fancied he could play the world like chess
the public only later got to see
his covert hand that wrought this global mess
it's taken decades to appreciate
the cost of trampling Human Rights abroad
four billion  people look on us with hate
where he had thought to leave them over-awed

his latest protégé deems it's her turn

behind the throne, he'd wield his old dark power
no prosecutor ever seems to learn
he should be serving time in some dark tower
the Church Committee failed to exorcise
Dick Nixon's minister of tricks and lies

paper hero

Petraeus tried repackaging defeat
like dying slower had defined our goals
the media embraced it, 'cause it's neat
colluding to obscure our own death-tolls
no photos graced the pages of their rags
as editors jumped through Dick Cheney's hoops
while soldiers got shipped home in body bags
averting eyes from our homecoming troops
his arc peaked early, but soon ran its course
when leaks were traced back to his CIA
another hero toppled from his horse
another GoldenBoy with feet of clay
he falls for sex and fades from public view
and now it's time to pardon Snowden, too         

agenda

Paul Wolfowitz was hot to strike Iraq
since his assessment of the Carter years
and 'though the Bushes--pere et fils--knew jack
exploited it to stoke a nation's fears
to hang Saddam's head on the trophy wall
we sent our sons and daughters there to die
our teens who should be flirting at the mall
imperial enforcers of the Lie
pan-Arabism never bridged the rift
dividing Sunnis from the Shiite East
but war-time gives a president a lift
when confidence in him is at the least
Iraq's a "business opportunity"
as Hilary assessed it years ago
where mineral rights should be ours for free
our occupying army makes it so
our national repute rusts in the ditch
while Raytheon and Boeing come out rich        

brigand-in-chief

Hariri's murder cries out from the Earth
and Mehlis pinned the blame on al-Assad
a Criminal Court of a nickel's worth
would free his cringing soul to meet his God
a hundred groups compete to claim his head
although they're often at each other's throats
until Assad's whole clan is safely dead
the region's run by bullets, not by votes
but Putin's hot to keep an ice-free port
and doesn't trust the Arctic to stay clear
a fellow butcher after Vlad's own sort
keeps the Levant dysfunctional with fear
six million refugees flee in despair
a broken State that's now a brigand's lair        

asking only workman's wages

"you guys are nuts!" the wuffo shook his head
"to trust your lives to such a wing as that"
and drops his eyes and turns his weary tread
to treat his kid to yogurt (small, non-fat)
well-socialized to never leave the mob
subordinating spirit to the team
identifying wholly with his job
repressing any trace of childhood's dream
perchance, when no one's looking, he'll get high
and think he's put one over on the man
but leaves us to our playground in the sky
still making payments on his minivan
before we gaze our last upon the Light
let's seize the day to live the Dream of Flight     

insecure

the FBI dismissed Omar Mateen
convinced that he was no Islamicist
no cog in al-Baghdadi's war machine
an angry gay man cruising for a tryst
his workmates testified this guy's a threat
his ex divorced him 'cause he's violent
and yet he swam unhindered through their net
their interviewers deaf to what he meant
a murder plot's a matter for the States
their squad was charged with bigger fish to fry
the Bureau's not concerned with bigots' hates
until the news shows dozens bleed and die
'til they make better use of what they've got
they'll want more ways to spy--but I think not

art and convention

for English speakers, Shakespeare's still the bomb
his sonnets set the mode we emulate
all other rhyme schemes--although they're not wrong--
are more inclined to jar than resonate
for pick-up culture, one can tweet haiku
composed while waiting in a traffic jam
but for romantics, only rhyme will do
to link the ends of ev'ry fifth iamb
from too close up, one can't tell art from junk
nor what might pique an audience's ear
the words we hoped would ring too often clunk
and can't elicit love, or hope, or fear
the theatre pieces paid his rent and dues
but sonnets were his off'rings to the Muse

barriers

our speech is fraught with ambiguities
that baffle efforts to communicate
what's clear to me in my soliloquies
means something else when whispered to my date
we only hear what fits our mental maps
dismissing other sounds as aural trash
if not a single meaning, two perhaps
selected from the ambient hiss and crash
it's comforting to think we're understood
that other minds are really like our own
to doubt this link inevitably would
mean we're immutably each all alone
for carpenters, a stool's a place to sit
for doctors, the same word denotes a shit

Ruth

when Ruth claimed Boaz on the threshing floor
she didn't drag him off to share her tent
emboldened by her wise mother-in-law
she only asked for mutual consent
there, on that spot the beit mikdash would stand
and fall, and rise again to burn once more
an anchor of the People to the Land
a beacon when we wept on foreign shore
the Moabitess spawned king David's line
as good as any monarchy on Earth
her Judaism's real as yours or mine
her faith by choice, not accident of birth
so much was built on this foundation stone
that doesn't run with Jacob's blood alone

premature

this Clinton nomination's in the bag

if you believe the 'papers in her sway

they risk the reputation of their rag

preempting California's polling day

her fictive inevitability

collapsed like smoke in Two Thousand and Eight

when delegates showed that their loyalty

was to the most compelling Party Slate

this year, it's Sanders, advocating CHANGE 

appealing to the liberal and hip

to turn our  course, not merely rearrange

the deck-chairs on our rudderless State-ship

like Bush-the-first, she lacks that "vision thing"
but fiercely strives to grasp that big brass ring

ongoing

Shavuot finds mt. Sinai flame-obscured
what all can see's devoid of fine detail
we come away convinced each heard God's Word
but argue why the pronouns were all male
"divrei Torah k'lshon bnei adom"
each took from it what could fit in his ear
the revelation landed like a bomb
but only gets unpacked from year to year
on issues unforeseen, from war to sex
we'll get no further input from on high
we've learned to find new meanings in old texts
the arguments get old, but never dry
king David's lineage goes back to Ruth
who-retroactively--received our Truth

selective enforecement

the stigma of a rapist seemed too stark
so Aaron Persky cut the perp some slack
hiis felony down-graded to a lark
like no judge would have done had he been Black
his time at Stanford failed to cultivate
a moral basis to shape how he acts
his social education's a blank slate
albeit he had mastered reams of facts
to seize a stranger's body as his right
as if she's not a person, but a thing
foul soul can wear a face that's lily-white
he got good genes but woeful parenting
Brock Allen Turner squandered years in school
but never took to heart the Golden Rule

freeloader

Brock Allen Turner wasn't socialized
to treat a woman with the due respect
he grabbed whatever seemed good in his eyes
content that he was one of God's elect
Society's not built for such a jerk
it's under-pinned by mutual regard
were all to think like Rand, it couldn't work
and life must be short, nasty, brutish, hard
is he too old to rehabilitate?
and is that likely while he sits in jail?
or must he be some older inmate's "date"
abused in turn as just a bit of tail?
incarceration seems a waste of time
without addressing what begat his crime

golden boy

Brock Allen Turner's father intercedes
to plead for mercy 'cause he's just a boy
who suffers plenty from his rutting need
to use a passed-out coed as his toy
a crime that gets a Black man fourteen years
drew just six months because he's lilly-white
and doesn't fit the profile of our fears
judge Persky winks like somehow that's alright
results may vary, 'though the law's the same
on who's the perpetrator in the case
although he's guilty, he escapes the blame
well cushioned by the privilege of race
for Stanford students, kid gloves are the norm
until we find the will for deep reform

motivated

Dawn finds us stooped, already on our  quest
with gun and pail and tripod on the sand
when saner folk are still snug in their nest
out foraging to find the horse-neck clam
the bay lies emptied this low tide of June
with cryptic dents and holes at which we stare
obedient to both the sun and moon
the ocean's gathered into heaps elsewhere
what wage could compensate such brutal work
that we perform for sport and don't complain
we thrill at possibilities that lurk
and shrug at those who doubt that we are sane
strange act of faith, to claw through sand and muck
as if we dreamt we'd bag a geoduck

backroom

Obama's cast his lot with Hillary
like he's campaigning for his own third term
to influence her as eminence gris
where she lacks vision that we can discern
behind the throne, he'd wrestle Kissinger
who has his own ideas what power's for
each claiming his agenda came from her
'though one loves parley, and the other, war
two academics grasping power's reins
persuading Hillary with reams of facts
a pas de trois of brass knuckles and brains
to be the moral compass that she lacks
the Will to Power scares us when it's raw
and so it masquerades as Rule of Law

unAmerican

Trump's racist ravings taint the GOP
a slate he heads just ain't American
to fault a judge for genealogy
discounts a lifetime of what the man's done
to Europeans, the omens are clear
they've known the horror fascism can wreck
but some deny that it could happen here
and cheer the monster Reason couldn't check
the poorly educated love their man
oblivious to each new week's flip-flop
as if it didn't matter where he stands 
as long as he can bray that he's on top
his erstwhile rivals know he's wrong and crass
but fall in line to kneel and kiss his ass

decriminalized

Obama let our torturers walk free
although he grants that what they did's a crime
pretending not to hear and not to see
a reason that they ought to serve hard time
the Rule of Law aspires to being blind
the perpetrator's class should count for naught
but when they're of the CIA's own kind
the verdicts been already sealed and bought
who really cares, as long as they're not Whites
who scream and die in U.S. custody
utopian delusions grant them rights
as if they were the same as you and me
Obama's legacy's in disarray
while Truth's held hostage by our CIA

invested

eight years ago, she saw her numbers lag
but urged the SuperDelegates to swing
yet when she deems she's got this in the bag
she waits for them to kneel and kiss her ring
she paid good money, and expects their vote
the whole machine's indebted to her bank
a sort of inverse way to ride the coat-
-tails rather than engage the File and Rank
the BeltWay Brahmins tell us it's her turn
and Sanders' program could never get passed
but whole new generations feel the Bern
and won't be swayed 'til the last ballot's cast
that brittle laugh and uncomfortable  smile
must ache like fire in this campaign's last mile

Pardon Snowden!

Retirement loosened Eric Holder's tongue
conceding Edward Snowden might be right
the man he'd wanted gagged and tried and hung
looks more heroic in a layman's light
he'd never shown a prosecutor's zeal
preferring talks on sociology
expounding how injustice made him feel
but leaving Zimmerman to walk Scot-free
democracy's reliant on such leaks
for citizenry to exert due sway
a government that acts but never speaks
de facto takes our sovereignty away
without transparency, we're merely thralls
imprisoned in these epistemic walls

after-life

Bechukotai presumes there's quid pro quo
and sufferers have earned their lot in life
while Babylon's a player in the show
in God's hand to chastise His errant wife
but still, we struggle with Akiva's death
who should have prospered for his merit's sake
he praised the Lord with his last dying breath
whose flesh was torn off with a Roman's rake
indiff'rent cosmos out of our control
whose patterns aren't scaled to human size
throws up conundra to try a Jew's soul
or drives us to tell comfortable lies
we sing the praise of God on His high throne
to reassure ourselves we're not alone

Sold!

most SuperDelegates are in her debt
she's made a point to give to their campaigns
'though they may try, she won't let them forget
'though they're unpledged, they nonetheless wear chains
from first to last, the donors call the tune
the platform serves the Few who cut the checks
while California's primary's in June
the Clinton team has long since stacked the deck
experienced at the old  money game
they mock the voters' pretense of control
although they might be Democrats in name
the Rich enjoy a cash-based stranglehold
democracy's a sham if not a joke
when all our ballots weigh no more than smoke

this too shall pass

Iridium lies heavy on their eyes
who'd dominated the Cretaceous Age
selective pressures on who lives, who dies
reshuffled in one asteroid's brief blaze
for 90 million years, they'd had their run
diversified to niches of all sorts
but who copes best when dust blots out the sun
turned out to be the shrew's hirsute cohorts
the next extinction's wrought by our own hand
in pumping carbon out of fossil pools
to poison atmosphere, and sea, and land
a terraforming spell wielded by fools
who's next is in the laps of fickle gods
perchance intelligent cephalopods

arms race

mosquitoes navigate by CO2
plus IR gradients to find their prey
which makes it hard to see what one could do
to keep blood-sucking parasites at bay
and vampire bats add sonar to the mix
of signals guiding them to their next meal
while no one seems to understand how ticks
make out unless they're doing it by feel
and who can understand a leech's mind
that eyeless, earless, gloms on in the creek
perchance vibrations guide their quest to find
the hemoglobin bounty that they seek
beset by such a fierce array of threats
a billion lives depend on sheer bed-nets

Independents

prosperity's no closer year by year
dreams get deferred while only debts accrue
the 99% feel mounting fear
a nation's wealth's diverted to the Few
Detroit's a husk; those jobs have moved off-shore
and pensions crumble as tides shift the sands
the heads of industry claim ever more
while nothing trickles down to feed the hands
if donors write both platforms, Blue and Red
entrenching privilege to the elite
as if the Body Politic's a head
that has no need for brains, or heart, or feet
increasingly, both Left and Right rebel
to tell both parties they can go to Hell

coming to a head

the neo-fascist keeps his crowd entranced
with promises to build a great white wall
the boil just festers 'til it can get lanced
it's most repugnant just before the fall
Trump's backers represent the underside
whom civic education couldn't reach
they lack the calibration to decide
he waxed fat on their labors like a leech
infections fulminate through the long night
where ignorance fuels candidates of fear
no disinfectant's better than sunlight
if journalists would just get it in gear
the Donald's rhetoric's over the top
and just gets worse until it has to pop

Hull, May

the risen sun finds pilots still abed
still speculating what the day will bring
while buzzing insects swarm each netted head
as if we were the sweetest blooms of Spring
the season's on, despite calls for new snow
and Jake's with Kurtis, chasing epic flights
but we've a more bucolic place to go
surveying Pillsbury from RedSpot's heights
two days of soaring, 'though no one got high
on Sunday thermals topped out at the clouds
from here, it's hard to see a reason why
we'd spend our holiday with noise and crowds
a gentle shake-down as the year's begun
the sober pilots know that Hull's still fun

post-partisan

for Clinton, power always flows top-down
and media collude with her design
she wines and dines the burghers of the town
expecting peons will fall into line
financial sector barons rig the game
recapitalized on the public's sweat
good bets or bad, for them it's all the same
they skim the profits, passing on the debts
the senator from WallStreet just can't see
why we suspect her ties to the big banks
and what they get for that fat speaker's fee
that's so routine, her butler pens the thanks
both Left and Right are starting to rebel
to wish both parties a swift trip to Hell