flip flop

Demosthenes trapped Spartans in a bind
exploiting Sphacteria's weed-clogged ditch
he took their hoplites roughly from behind
exultant hegemon to Sparta's bitch
Athenian's gained glory in the game
and should have offered peace if they'd been wise
to capitalize Sparta's day of shame
to be preeminent in Greece's eyes
such opportunities don't come again
they over-reached attacking Syracuse
at vast expense of silver, ships, and men
a pointless foreign battlefield to lose
as neatly as an ancient story can
Thucydides foretold our Vietnam

sideshow

astonishingly, Trump's still in the race
he leads unthinking mobs who've come to feel
elites exploit his glorious White base
who ought to be the masters of the deal
a Warren or a Sanders showed the way
prosperity could spread beyond WallStreet
but he was shut out by our pay-to-play
and she preferred to keep her senate seat
the wheels fell of the Clown Car long ago
and he's the last man standing on the Right
by pitching all his rhetoric so low
campaigning like it's just a barroom fight
for Hillary, this ought to be a cinch
if she were half as charming as the Grinch

reductio

reductionism bore most of the weight
erecting Science root, and branch, and bole
but consciousness is an emergent trait
no smaller units add up to the whole
the mind regards itself but has no tools
to tell if there's an other looking back
Cartesian logic with its stepwise rules
has met the straw beneath which it may crack
what's left is mysticism, or despair
perhaps the error's what's been reified
attempts to quantify what wasn't there
eluded Francis Crick until he died
philosophizing's fun 'til it goes bad
and drives biologists stark raving mad

hubris

Demosthenes beat Sparta with his mind
exploiting Sphacteria's weed-clogged ditch
he took their soldiers roughly from behind
exultant hegemon to Sparta's bitch
Athenians gained glory in this game
and should have offered peace, if they'd been wise
to capitalize Sparta's day of shame
to be preeminent in Greece's eyes
such opportunities don't come again
they over-reached attacking Syracuse
at vast expense in silver, ships, and men
a pointless foreign battlefield to lose
as neatly as an ancient story can
Thucydides foretold our Vietnam

bounded in a nutshell

through seven apertures, the world peers in
these breaches in our heads let us see out
res cogitans needs inputs to begin
but none of it's secure beyond a doubt
phantasms posture as reality
we could be dreaming that we're butterflies
events that populate my memory
could be a flimsy fabric of half-lies
that "mind" is what "brain" does fails to explain
what consciousness is, or why it's so dear
and qualia like "red" or "joy" or "pain"
should be the same in your head as in here
the skull's a puny insubstantial shell
to circumscribe a Heaven, or a Hell

counter-coup injury

"the people will be served" Obama said
when Egypt dragged Mubarak from his throne
but Saudis balked, and hopes were trampled, dead
as they installed a puppet of their own
the ArabSpring aspired to so much more
and Morsi tried to do the People's work
but he was booted out by Riyadh's whore
el-Sisi's quite the autocratic jerk
convenient strongmen run the trains on time
while bread and circus keeps the mobs amused
would it be petty to nickel and dime
our allies for each journalist abused?
Obama's legacy's just mortal-sized
too slim to justify that Nobel Prize

repressed

Mubarak trusted Clinton had his back
when ArabSpring dragged other despots down
Mukhabarat was primed for an attack
when Egypt roared for him to cede the crown
Obama called her home to have a chat
about priorities in the MidEast
just 'cause she dislikes CHANGE must not mean that
the U.S. is in bed with her pet beast
Obama flinched, the Saudis won this round
installing their man Sisi on the throne
now journalists are gagged, as well as bound
and Morsi rots in his dank cell, alone
democracy world-wide seems in retreat
until the next spark lights the ArabStreet

pay no attention to the screams behind the curtain

at Nuremberg, we set a precedent
that guilt inheres from top to bottom, all
the sender no less than the killer sent
should get stood side by side, against the wall
but Dubya reckoned torture's not like that
just hire a lawyer who'll say it's okay
the crimes go into a magician's hat
and--with some MumboJumbo--go away
accountability's for little folk
who view their government with pious awe
but Cheney treated treaties like a joke
conducting policy above the law
post-partisan Obama let it slide
so bit by bit, our proud republic died

societal values

Norwegians' faith in Justice is so sweet
that even for the most horrific crime
if rehabilitation is complete
they'll free a Breyvik when he's done his time
while here, we stock warehouses of young men
expensive boarding schools for doing wrong
they're felons by the time they've left the Pen
who only went in for a joint, or bong
but Sanders was blocked by the DNC
his call for Justice barely reached the Press
discussing what our nation ought to be
deemed less news-worthy than Trump's truthiness
we blow a fortune propagating crooks
who ought to be in school, digesting books

windows on the soul

through seven apertures, the world peers in
these breaches in our heads let us see out
the thinking mind needs inputs to begin
but none of it's secure beyond a doubt
phantasms posture as reality
we could be dreaming that we're butterflies
events that populate my memory
could be a flimsy fabric of half-lies
that "mind" is what "brain" does fails to explain
what consciousness is, or why it's so dear
and qualia like "red" or "joy" or "pain"
should be the same in your head as in here
the skull's a pretty insubstantial shell
to circumscribe a Heaven, or a Hell

message in a bottle iI

message in a bottle

within a sonnet's lines, a world's contained
an arbitrary form gives shape to Art
expressing, through a medium constrained
the metaphoric language of the heart
through rhyme and meter building up effects
that resonate within a reader's mind
like dance that intimates the joy of sex
or painting sunset's glory for the blind
the poet can't know who might take his bait
the reader's lexicon might be in Dutch
across such chasms to communicate
the leap of faith required would seem too much
a language fraught with ambiguity
aspires to sketch what others' eyes will see

callous

Aleppo's children starve, but who's to care
defying Putin's not their war to fight
they're too concerned with Syrians' flight here
to challenge Russia's military might
no television crews are on those scenes
to document the way the dying feel
until a pundit tells us what it means
Americans pretend it isn't real
each death's a world unrealized, stillborn
you'd think the Right-to-Lifers would engage
but if they're Muslim, there's no one to mourn
they limp ashore to meet more fear and rage
the Torch of Freedom lights a bolted gate
where Donald's gospel's Greed, and Fear, and Hate

Ki Tavo

the widows and the orphaned get the tithe
skimmed off the best our fields and flocks produce
that they rejoice--and not merely survive--
this tenth is consecrate for their use
but 'nuther parshah gives it to the priests
is that a second ten percent on top?
can pilgrims making their shelamim feasts
commingle it with bulk-grain of the crop?
Beit Shammai thought the temple got it all
while Hillel said to share it with the poor
'tween Man and God, he didn't see a wall
and serving the Divine's what that food's for
Hagigah's text obsesses on each grain
but never spends a moment to explain

media's monster

astonishingly, Trump's still in the race
his backwards-looking cult of the Great Past
appeals to his uneducated base
who see their dominance is fading fast
the vision Sanders offered moved the youth
who saw this country could be so much more
but this election's not about the Truth
unChristian mobs just want to blame the poor
the menu's fixed, it's Trump or Hillary
and voters don't trust either one of those
to plot out nation's new trajectory
election day, they'll stay away in droves
the demagogue our Founding Fathers feared
stepped forth as journalism disappeared

kol d'mama

the battle's put on "hold", lord Krishna turns
no armor clatters and no axle creaks
outside of Time until Arjuna learns
the Gita that his charioteer speaks
like Moshe pausing as he tended flock
Siddhartha left his princely walls behind
enlightenment's not doled out by the clock
nor in a place; it's wholly in the mind
the lesson's over, now on with the fight
and Moshe gets up, lacing on his shoes
inspired by a renewed sense of what's right
autonomously, without further cues
to hear God's voice is either good, or bad
so much depends on if the hearer's mad

Regression

if one dimension fit our politics
and voters lined up neatly, Left to Right
the Clinton bid would not be in this fix
still wondering if she could win this fight
that Trump's a liar isn't in dispute
he doesn't pay his workers what they've earned
but outraged voters couldn't give a hoot
the lessons of the Thirties weren't learned
the Glories of a Past that never were
like Mussolini's fables of old Rome
appeal to the redundant laborer
afraid an immigrant might take his home
the lawyerly evasions don't inspire
Progressives who aspire to something higher

not news

that Donald lies compulsively's not news
and even when confronted, won't confess
he baldly finds a new way to abuse
the media to comp him more free press
his circus-stunts keep talking-heads enthralled
dissecting his opinions like they're facts
or speculating if he's really bald
and broadcasting releases from his hacks
the quest for balance harps on Clinton's flaws
'though she's been scrutinized for thirty years
comparing the two should provoke guffaws
if half the country weren't wracked with tears
Trump's bubble may deflate, at last, this Fall
if journalists remember they have balls

reason's limits

each mind's an island, girt by the unknown
induction can't construct a causeway thence
unable to disprove it's not alone
behind deduction's awesome, perfect, fence
Descartes gets us as far as "cogito"
that sets the furthest uncontested mark
but one step further, if one wants to go
is treading on the water, in the dark
a bridge stands on conjecture, step by step
unbuttressed save by fallible eyes, ears...
increasingly uncertain with each rep-
etition, massive castles built on air
philosophizing's fun 'til it goes bad
the wisest cede they may be seen as mad

contingencies

king George III sacked Pitt, who'd won the war
then clawed up all the sterling he could get
imposing tariffs never dreamed before
assuaging budget hawks afraid of debt
the Navigation Acts shut up our ports
to any ship without a British flag
and colonists got short shrift in the courts
the Crown had all the judges in the bag
the Western Lands, he dealt out of the deck
protecting first-growth forests from the ax
administ'ring these lands out of Quebec
to spare the Natives from settlers' attacks
the widest empire Britain ever had
was doomed to split when George III went mad

tragoidia

for Stephen Sondheim, parody's a lark
a moment's work to rip Trump a new ass
although for comic opera, it's dark
it's fun to mock his failed pretense to class
from day to day, an ever-changing spiel
without a jot or tittle he'd defend
his crowds don't think, but he gets them to feel
the White man's downward demographic trend
so Barbra Streisand sings it to the choir
and Clinton donors swoon to just be there
her war-chest's huge and mounting ever higher
at $40,000 for a chair
this orange avatar of unschooled rage
is made the butt of jokes on New York's stage

the sword of Justice

Loretta Lynch shows balls that Holder lacks
to say he's ineffectual's too kind
the sort of miscreants that she attacks
to prosecute would never cross his mind
perhaps he should teach sociology
and make orations to our bright-eyed youth
who need to learn why noxious speech is free
and just how slippery can be the Truth
our constitution specifies that Laws
be executed, not just talked about
however  manifest may be their flaws
the DA's tasked to see they're carried out
when Florida gave Zimmerman that pass
Obama should have sacked his milquetoast ass

Ahoy!

Each mind's alone, at sea on the wide world
conjecturing what might exist "out there",
displaying, beyond hope, its flag unfurled,
'cause perfect solitude's too much to bear.
Is there another, somewhere in the Blue
perhaps displaying such a flag for me?
Or do I merely fantasize a "you"
that can't be know except inductively?
For Deutsch, like Keats, aesthetics are the test,
equating Truth with Beauty on a dare,
a slim foundation on which worlds should rest
but infinitely better than despair.
Deductively, we're stuck with "cogito"
beyond that, naught's demonstrably just so.

above the law

the CEO of Qwest did prison time
because the feds demurred to enter bids
what had been worth a buck's now worth a dime
and prosecutors argued quo pro quid
the other Telecomms got off Scot free
collaborating with the NSA
to violate our Rights and Liberty
while their competitor was made to pay
the Holder DoJ gave them a pass
invoking Secrets of the (secret) State
as if the Fourth Amendment's cool with mass-
surveillance of us in a time of hate
Obama flip-flopped right before our eyes
surrendering the office keys to spies

the worst system possible

political discourse has been debased
instead of sketches of our better selves
ad-hominem attacks have laid all waste
to sell their visions of competing Hells
by contrast, Lyndon Johnson seems a sage
he merely tortured puppies on a lark
but now, we face the orange clown of rage
who loves Americans--unless we're dark
Enlightenment experiment gone mad
the demagogue our Founding Fathers feared
evokes a Golden Age we never had
while preaching Mussolini's platform here
democracy's forever on the brink
'cause citizens think it's too hard to think

imitation game

the other's mind is more than one can know
it might be all projections on our part
deductively, we're stuck at "cogito"
extrapolating both a mind and heart
each mind's alone, at sea on the wide world
our neurons might be firing on a lark
but no one dwells on that when boy meets girl
to make some fun communing in the dark
if there's no world "out there", all action's vain
and there's no reason to get out of bed
no value in my pleasure, or my pain
if this construction's all inside my head
philosophizing's fun, 'til it turns bad
to doubt there's one to love, could drive one mad

rock of ages

Keith Richards still remembers war-time dearth
in England devastated by the Blitz
which kept him somewhat rooted on the earth
while band-mates were seduced by all the glitz
the pirate captain spurned to be a knight
an honor others sought both hard and long
they bicker, but they only rarely fight
'though "Mick's forever writing the same song"
few marriages endure such a long haul
the months of touring gotta take a toll
but when they're on, they seem to have a ball
eternal youth is fueled by rock and roll
'though speculation's rife, it's all just shit
the Rolling Stones won't ever wholly quit

arrhythmia

communication's mostly a mirage
who knows what meaning others' words convey
we think we penetrate the camouflage
and hope it's plain to them what we would say
the minds of others might be just like ours
but that's an axiom we'll never know
at best, we know our own reasoning powers
the rest is mere induction and say-so
each mind's alone, at sea on the wide world
the rest may be mere figments we construct
but no one dwells on that when boy meets girl
until the morning after we've first made love
what's left unspoken can--one hopes--be guessed
completing in your head our feeble jest

de re naturam

the Romans knew volcanic ash was key
to make cement that stands the test of time
that sets up hard on land, or under-sea
without the silicates, it's merely lime
that lore was lost for fifteen hundred years
cathedrals soar, but aren't weather-proof
staff masons keep up with the wear and tear
but it's a loss if you neglect the roof
petrology would catch up down the road
explaining how the crystal lattice binds
but brute empiricism bore the load
explaining aggregate in all its kinds
the best of Roman technology stands
the failures long since crumbled back to sands

Fall

the creeping Dark trims daylight at both ends
each sunset hastens and each daybreak lags
the radiation on which life depends
diminishes as harvest season drags
the change is swiftest at the equinox
between the solstices, more and more night
fair-weather sailboats hauled out in drydocks
acutely conscious of the waning light
new freshmen navigating the old school 
undreaming how much it is they don't know
but sure their generation defines "cool"
seem woefully unready for first snow
the leaves are fading, falling from the trees
as thoughts are turning to rewaxing skis

sclerotic

George Washington was brilliant in retreat
a crucial skill in asymmetric war
to deal the British Empire a defeat
the likes of which it hadn't known before
a sniper crouched behind each rustic wall
could decimate a rank drawn up in red
each puff of smoke, each whistling musket ball
another mercenary lamed or dead
but Arsenal of Liberty grew old
and snubbed the pleas for aid from chairman Ho
those founding myths that we've so oft retold
now that we hold the scepter aren't so
Progressives tug the lion by its beard
now we've become the empire we once feared

stop motion

granitic rocks comprise the basolith
up-thrust in basin-range orogeny
an age before our first creation myth
divided dry Land from chaotic Sea
James Hutton glimpsed Deep Time and wrote a book
"no vestige of Beginning" stamped the rocks
that wear to dust, subduct and then recook
composing a geologist's rough clocks
we lack perspective to perceive the dance
like telling decades by the second-hand
it all seems static to our fleeting glance
that--played out over time--is passing grand
whole mountain ranges fall, to rise again
but just play dead throughout the lives of men

other people's money

the Trump Foundation lets the Donald boast
of good he's done on other people's dime
he'll overcharge events where he's the host
a venal rip-off, but less than a crime
his own campaign now pays quadruple rent
because he's figurehead and landlord, too
he pockets half what contributors spent
the rest defrays his 14-karat loo
a money-grubbing slumlord lacks the class
to book a better office for his team
this Cheeto-tinted self-promoting ass
exults to do what others find obscene
to turn a profit as he's going down
a hypermercenary, sad, assclown

O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us

Trump's blindspot could eclipse a universe
that bad comb-over's boyish in his eyes
and posing next to Christie (who looks worse)
it's easy to believe self-serving lies
most guys dwell on the candy on his arm
to comment on  his mop might give offense
the haystack that looks fine down on the farm
looks weirdly plastic next to old Mike Pence
but Donald's deaf to those who'd give advice
what's negative's lost in a verbal haze
he knows they meant to say that he looks nice
the only sounds that penetrate are praise
denial guards his ego from the world
next season, he'll import another girl

early adopter

the Petrol Age is over, rest in peace
electric cars have fewer moving parts
with infrastructure, benefits increase
eftsoon, the quiet ride will win our hearts
no carbuerator, no gas tank, no clutch
the Tesla ought to be maintenance-free
but engineers love flashy toys too much
and gummed the X up with compexity
designers thought the gull-wings a sweet quirk
that proves it's more than just a mini-van
but drivers mostly want car doors that work
and not a frequent-flyer service plan
adopting early can exact a price
but none deny, the Tesla's awfully nice

cubicles

John Maynard Keynes knew spending is the drive
that keeps economies in robust health
when capital is idle, none can thrive
it's only gold's dynamics that make wealth
the State's employer of the last resort
although it comes with dental benefit
except for officers of the law court
the work is mostly crap, in triplicate
each bureaucrat pent in her tiny cell
partitions only four or five feet high
define the labyrinthine map of Hell
where souls and inspiration go to die
absorbing bound'ry of the Labor Pool
tyrannical administrative tool

on one foot

"in brief, what's God's demand?" the stranger asked
Shammai dismissed him, brandishing a stick
Hillel acknowledged teaching's his life's task
and summarized Halakhah double quick
divinity's indwelling in us each
it's not just in a book, or in the sky
it's in your neighbor's face, within your reach
it's here and now, not waiting 'til we die
Olam haBah's constructed day by day
it's not a destination for the End
just as you'd treat a trave'ler on the way
is what you can expect from kin, or friend
Shammai laughs last, millennia of fools
have studiously smothered love, in rules

truthiness

two less loved candidates have never led
a presidential race down to the wire
the public doesn't trust a word they've said
convinced that each is--more or less--a liar
James Comey deemed that it would be uncouth
to prosecute a Clinton at this time
he testified that she'd told an untruth
but judged--de minimus--he saw no crime
while Donald lies as if it were his job
his assets' valuations come and go
inanities spew from his smarmy gob
of incidents that simply aren't so
at minimum, to be our head of state
I want someone who won't prevaricate

Madge

John Maynard Keynes knew spending is the drive
that keeps economies in robust health
when capital lies idle, none can thrive
it's only gold's dymamics that  make wealth
the State's employer of the last resort
although it comes with dental benefits
except for officers of the law court
the work is mostly crap, in triplicate
each bureaucrat pent in her tiny cell
partitions only four or five feet high
define the labyrinthine map of Hell
where souls and inspiration go to die
absorbing bound'ry of the labor pool
tyrannical administrative tool

benefits

horizon to  horizon, it's one train
occluding traffic on a dozen blocks
a 19th century transport for grain
leave's drivers fuming, screaming at their clocks
a wiser State would build an overpass
creating jobs and saving all our time
but legislators rarely show the brass
to get such value for the public's dime
the Donald acts like he got rich alone
and infrastructure isn't his expense
but those who've built their fortunes on their own
see less advantage in voting Trump/Pence
societal investments, day by day
give multiples on taxes that we pay

pharisees

faux Christians spurn the poor like they're to blame
and treat all strangers like they bear disease
of such a jerk, the Church should be ashamed
but rarely speaks out if he pays his fees
the Kochs, like Trump, pray at the Church of Greed
exalting Mammon over all the Earth
denying kinship with those who're in need
as if a bankroll told a human's worth
our Founding Fathers' "city on a hill"
was not a garrison behind a wall
but nativists have turned that welcome, chill
what had been shining's shrouded in a pall
I don't need candidates who shout "God's great!"
but I demand a just and righteous State

hot air

Oligosaccharides we can't digest
are clipped to methane by our symbiotes.
Archaea who've long been our GI guests,
have wed their fortunes to our gastric lot.
Electron-transport stalls at Hydrogen
or ethanol, or lactate where air's scant.
but H2's gobbled by methanogens
that tolerate an atmosphere we can't.
It's gluten takes the rap when bellies bloat,
or when a bank of fog swirls in their head.
Now, fussy eaters get a doctor's note;
it's all the rage to swear off eating bread!
The staff of life on which the West still leans
next year, the faddish diet foreswears...beans?

the quiet coup

one candidate who's rich, one who aspires
a meager menu from which we must pick
our standards have sunk low that once were higher
our proud republic's looking pretty sick
professor Lessig thought he saw a way
to campaign on ideas, and not on dough
'til then, big donors get the final say
and aspirants must give the quid pro quo
Obama called for Change! and the crowds roared
but DeepState forces have constrained his hand
so torturers walk free, across the board
James Clapper exercises real command
Enlightenment experiment gone bust
whoever it is rules, it isn't us

metaphors

a tilted planet, orbiting its sun
has days that wax and wane throughout the year
a  normal axis sets all=one
a cosmic bicycle in one fixed gear
a metaphor for life's growths and decays
implicit as each night brings on more chill
aligning dimming eyes with waning days
as aching limbs protest to climb each hill

but cyclic functions come around again
each Spring's rebirth's as sure as Fall's decline
so poets sketch an afterlife for men
a lot like this, but of inverted sign
conjecture's free to roam where data's null
to think it's settled fact, one must be dull

where to mathematicians go?

a tilted planet, orbiting its sun
has days that wax and wane throughout the year
a  normal axis sets all=one
a cosmic bicycle in one fixed gear
a metaphor for life's growths and decays
implicit in each daybreak and sunset
aligning dimming eyes with waning days
a finite bankroll carrying no debt
but cyclic functions come around again
each Spring's rebirth's as sure as Fall's decline
so poets sketch an afterlife for men
a lot like this, but of inverted sign
conjecture's free to roam where data's null
to think it's settled fact, one must be dull

what's lost, and what's imperishable

one Porlock merchant rapping at the door
destroyed the fabled walls of Xanadu
if he'd been there, the epic Trojan war
would have been won before the week was through
the story's grand because a ten-year siege
let Telemachos grow into a man,
Peleides to quarrel with his liege,
and--one by one--hew down grave Priam's clan
the Jericho pericope's too slight
to hold an audience for very long
but Homer kept his rapt through a fortnight
attentive to his many-textured song
that Porlock merchant died, and left no name
but literati never can forget
how Coleridge bequeathed him this small fame
for interrupting to collect a debt
a poet's wrath extends beyond the grave
when text he's entered's lost before it's saved

marketed

the marketers have won; they've sold us Trump
a product with no selling points at all.
A better one could be scrounged at the dump
but he'll be at the ballot-top this Fall.
He show no grasp of military ops
nor how tripartite government should work.
Encircled by his mercenary cops,
he scarcely hears the crowd scream he's a jerk.
His words are so much smoke; they make no sense
tomorrow, he'll trot out another song.
The only point that's constant is that fence
and Peña Nieto swears that too, is wrong.
A web of lies ensnares the Trumpen crowd
but they'll buy into anything that's loud.

grasping at dreams

one Porlock merchant rapping on the door
destroyed the fabled walls of Xanadu
mere shards of what the poet know was more
when dream's retold on paper, still gleam through
the metaphor of language dimly hints
inchoate wonders that were clear in dreams
Escheric forms in Maxfield Parrish tints
and eyes with super-lapidary gleams
who knows what words evoke in other minds
your qualia are just hearsay to me
I seize the closest referent I find
as if I knew your inner glossary
if Coleridge's verse still resonate
there's no objective test that deems it great

bought press

the Trump dementia's lurid in display
appalling he might get what he desires
no grand design constrains what he might say
that verbal smokescreen hides a lack of fire
ad-hominem attacks don't make a plan
to play a SuperPower's global role
the ship is state requires a steady hand
and Donald's never shown much self-control
but journalists have lost their will to dig
they publish any lies the great boor spews
unwilling to point out that he's a pig
and broadcast propaganda like it's news
the Fourth Estate's delinquent in its role
they've left a sociopath in control

ars longa, vita brevis

while still a teen, the Bard of Avon wed
the mother of his too-untimely child
to whom--in death--he left his less-loved bed
in memory of their days young, and wild
if with maturity they'd grown apart
inevitably, she--at least--got hurt
the poet so attuned to pluck the heart-
strings spent his time in London chasing skirt
for English poets, he still sets the mark
but whom he's wooing isn't ever clear
the sonnets idolize a lady dark
whom--second to his Muse--he holds most dear
they're all long dead, yet still his art remains
evoking timeless joys, and loves, and pains

radix malorum

the Board of Walmart's a distinguished school
where Hillary refined her lawyer's role
to be a keener legislative tool
for corporations firmly in control
to run for office takes a lot of dough
that often comes from unsavory friends
and while there's rarely quite a quid pro quo
it's understood it's all means to their ends
in Arkansas, the Waltons are as kings
no state official can deny them aught
to get that office, he first kissed their rings
and vehemently swore he'd not been bought
to clean the system up and stem the rot
the senator from WallStreet's a long shot

immuno-onco II

down-regulation of MHC-1
can cloak a cancer's cytosolic mess
so Killer T-cells don't come on the run
to put the mutant out of its distress
immune surveillance only scans the shell
displayed to White-cells on the cell's membrane
while all internal pathways run to Hell
a billion years of order gone insane
chimeric T-cells bridge some of that lack
but only see the surface antigens
what's membrane-integral, they can attack
but cancers seem less "foe"than they do 'friend"
most transformed cells get swept up ev'ry  night
yet some rogues learn to thwart our leukocytes

immuno-onco II

down-regulation of MHC-1
can cloak a cancer's cytosolic mess
so Killer T-cells don't come on the run
to put the mutant out of its distress
immune surveillance only scans the shell
displayed to White-cells on the cell's membrane
while all internal pathways run to Hell
a billion years of order gone insane
chimeric T-cells bridge some of that lack
but only see the surface antigens
what's membrane-integral, they can attack
but cancers seem less "foe"than they do 'friend"
most transformed cells get swept up ev'ry  night
yet some rogues learn to thwart our leukocytes

immuno-onco

down-regulation of MHC-1
can cloak a cancer's cytosolic mess
so Killer T-cells don't come on the run
to put the mutant out of its distress
immune surveillance only scans the shell
displayed to White-cells on the cell's membrane
while all internal pathways run to Hell
a billion years of order gone insane
chimeric T-cells sometimes fill that lack
but only see the surface antigens
what's membrane-integral, they can attack
but cancers seem less "foe"than they do 'friend"
most transformed cells apoptose in the night
the worst rogues learn to thwart our leukocytes

corrupted texts

triumphalism warps our teaching texts
real history includes what we've done wrong
the causes get divorced from the effects
mere lyrics in a silly children's song
internment camps must never be forgot
what in good conscience no law could allow
how farmers had to leave their crops to rot
and sweat the war-years out in the hoosgow
if we're the sov'reigns here, we need to read
the sins our fathers wrought, not just the good
ideals they didn't manifest in deed
although they knew what it was that they should
the whitewashed version helps kids sleep at night
but doesn't educate them to what's right

longing for empire

the brittle English sun can't warm the bones
it strikes the Earth through too  much atmosphere
what would be normal in sub-tropic zones
obliquely glances off the surface there
the Summers flitter past in Time's swift stream
like youths denying they'll one day grow old
but harvest season snaps us from the dream
we wake to find reality is cold
Brits flee for New Years to the Turkish shore
when snowflakes shroud the gardens of Hyde Park
to shed the bulky Winter garb they wore
when trudging home from work through rain and dark
but holidays must end and seasons turn
and Brits bring home their souvenir sunburn

longing for empire

the brittle English sun can't warm the bones
it strikes the Earth through too  much atmosphere
what would be normal in sub-tropic zones
obliquely glances off the surface there
the Summers flitter past in Time's swift stream
like youths denying they'll one day grow old
but harvest season snaps us from the dream
we wake to find reality is cold
Brits flee for New Years to the Turkish shore
when snowflakes shroud the gardens of Hyde Park
to shed the bulky Winter garb they wore
when trudging home from work through rain and dark
but holidays must end and seasons turn
and Brits bring home their souvenir sunburn

snowbirds

anemic Swedish sun can't warm the bones
it strikes the Earth through too  much atmosphere
what would be normal in sub-tropic zones
obliquely glances off the surface there
the Summers flitter past in Time's swift stream
like youths denying they'll one day grow old
but harvest season snaps us from the dream
we wake to find reality is cold
Swedes flee for New Years to the Turkish shore
when trees are bare and all the landscape's stark
to shed the bulky Winter garb they wore
when trudging home from work through endless dark
but holidays must end and seasons turn
and Swedes bring home their souvenir sunburn

snug

Fred Hoyle conjectured Carbon has a state
of excitation far above the ground
and excess energy can radiate
instead of shattering on the rebound
no evidence for such a state was known
it came to him like Kekulé's dream-wraith
a brainstorm that occurred to him alone
but which he published in an act of faith
that heavy elements could be explained
without invoking miracles or Djinn
relieved cosmologists who'd felt constrained
to only Hydrogen and Helium
a cosmos built up from Fred Hoyle's insight
a world for Goldilocks that fits just right

values voters

lord Byron died in Greece, to oust the Turk
for Shelley, revolution starts right here
advancing rights for those who have to work
against rapacious banks and overseers
romantic poets sought to legislate
the ethics for a whole society
what statutes can't compel or motivate
still necessary if we're to live free
but now, the marketers are in control
Enlightenment's sun's set; we're left in night
where money in the bank's the only goal
amoral arbiters of what is right
where Mammon reigns, there are no other rules
a simple system that appeals to fools

Sleeper

"all natural!" the strychnine package read
"low sodium!" "sincerely gluten-free!"
it's not our fault if users end up dead
this stuff's organic! from an unpruned tree!
a generation self-righteous and sure
mistrusts ingredients in six-point type
embracing what's left unrefined as "pure"
convinced that what's so groovy can't be hype
organic every day they had on Earth
four thousand generations just got by
whatever got them through our times of dearth
and all the better if fat-content's high
the true believers try to live on kale
with supplements refined from brewer's yeast
but I'll take a steak (rare) washed down with ale
and leave the greens to garnish the roast beast
food fashions are endorsed with foolish zeal
then damned another time around Time's wheel

travesty

Brock Allen Turner's paid his debt; he's free
to get on with his life as best he can
his victim's left to nurse her injury
inflicted by this privileged boy-man
judge Aaron Persky cut the kid some slack
as if droit de seigneur were his by right
the sentence he'd have served if he were Black
seemed far to harsh for someone lily-white
the ruling class don't spend their youth in jail
our courts are careful not to waste their time
a fratboy scoring a bit of drunk tail
is barely even treated as a crime
'though Justice should be blind, she's  known to glance
and darker skins don't get a second chance

Re'eh II

some rabbis would emasculate the text
when they don't like the plain sense of the word
distorting cause to get desired effects
although the lengths they'll go to get absurd
the "ger"--they'd tell us--has embraced our creed
not any stranger dwelling in our town
rememb'ring Egypt and our time of need
they'd cut the list of whom to love way down
the European ghetto made them shrink
forsaking the repair of the whole world
survival when the tribe seemed on the brink
bent all our aspirations inward-curled
and yet to love's commanded of all Jews
regardless of the faith some others choose

Re'eh!

Re'eh says carrion's fit for the ger
who plainly isn't counted among Jews
his designation tells us only where
he'll make his dwelling, not which God he'll choose
yet rabbis felt compelled to fix the text
the way a vet might fix an alley cat
to love so freely might have dire effect
affecting even who might get begat
Divrei Torah k'lshon b'nei adom
but language drifted with the passing years
the etymology tells where it's from
but not the layers a word comes to bear
as we were strangers, so we must show love
without inquiring which shul they're part of

contingency II

hair follicles' and sweat glands' fates are chained
the same progenitors make either cell
selecting better cooling for big brains
our ancestors got hairlessness as well
the best of mutants still must find a mate
and courtship choose the new morphology
bare flesh and taste for same cosegregate
if they'll produce a chance of progeny
most changes must be deleterious
if something viable has been our start
that most will die can't too much worry us
selection--not design--is Darwin's art
we culminate contingency's cascade
but in our image our own god is made

contingent

hair follicles' and sweat glands' fates are chained
the same progenitors make either cell
selecting better cooling for big brains
our ancestors got hairlessness as well
four times--at least--the flapping wing's evolved
however inefficient 'tis for flight
the menu's fixed and Darwin merely solved
for something that would work, 'though it's a fight
a screw-propeller wasn't in the cards
for multicellulars like you and me
and Reynold's numbers make the flying hard
flagella only work when they're at sea
this time, a primate triumphed through the odds
another cast of dice....cephalopods?