It was never about the nation's interests

Israelis on the Left failed to unite
against the perils Netanyahu brings.
A coalition so far on the Right
"prime minister" increasingly means "king".
No constitution circumscribes the role;
they've failed at writing one since '48.
If once Mishpat Elyon would cede control,
one man could compromise a people's fate.
Corruption charges never went away;
a blameless man would hasten to get cleared.
But Bibi's strategy was all delay,
and cultivating voters' baseless fears.
Two thousand years, we prayed we'd get self-rule.
And now we've blown it on this grifting tool.

a leaf in the wind

So cold and numb, the hailstrikes scarcely hurt;
their relative velocity's quite small.
Ten thousand meters off the Aussie dirt,
Wisnierska wasn't piloting at all.
Unconscious baggage in convection's blast
her glider--packed with snow--persists to fly.
Her life-force on the wane, and fading fast
the mystery is that she didn't die.
Where Gadd and Castle opt to sit one out,
she takes the meethead's word the day looks good.
Subordinating any private doubt,
'though now, she might repent that, if she could.
Mere gossamer within the stormhead's suck
she lives to fly again, through dumbest luck.

Experience

Wiśnierska's famous 'cause she didn't die
past thirty thousand feet, where air gets thin.
The meethead deemed the weather fit to fly;
to scratch the task would mean she couldn't win.
Convection carries energy aloft;
excited molecules each take more room.
Despite appearances, that cloud's not soft;
the white room's dark between each flash and boom.
Competitors--too oft--subordinate
their own good judgement to that meethead's call.
The race is on! And those who hesitate
can't add a shiny trophy to their wall.
While Gadd and Castle opt to sit one out
a lesser pilot can't admit to doubt.

foreign agent

The Lotus-eaters lapping up FauxNews
feel justified inciting civil strife.
Their failings, they attribute to"the Jews"
themselves, they feel no agency in life.
Their Murdoch masters sneer at them like bugs
unfit to even pour their masters' wine.
Addicted to their bread-and-circus drugs
they mindlessly repeat the party line.
The demagogue our Founding Fathers feared
came packaged by Australians in disguise.
Crass immigrants, to sell that bullshit here
where innocents can't tell the news from lies.
You'd be a cock-eyed optimist (or fool)
to trust Fox viewer to select who'll rule.

Purim pending

Dim rag of moon hangs in the East-most pines,
to photobleach as soon as it's bright day.
The tidal tug of both great orbs aligns
to lay seas bare as waters ebb away.
Adar impends! An end to many things;
next year, we pray our masks are just for fun.
For now, we play at princesses, and kings
a final fling sends off the year that's done.
Four New Years mark each circuit as we're twirled
'though "this shall be the first of months for you".
A constant as our history's unfurled;
the calendar's ordained, if you're a Jew.
Brief pre-dawn glimpse of sky, before it's gone
ferments in poets' brains like scraps of song.

Weeds

December rains iguanas from the trees
a rough thermometer to mark the drop
when Winter brings Dade county to its knees,
lean protein's free in this exotic crop.
Like lionfish, invasives can be sweet
('though Asian carp remain an uphill sell).
Reptilian tacos could be tourists' treat,
if marketers stepped up, and did it well.
A species like our own, when out of place,
wrecks havoc in a garden, or at large.
Few have the spine to tell us to our face
We're pathogens, deluded we're in charge.
Eventually, Earth will be OK
and sooner, if we'd merely go away.

The Windsors

Prince Harry's coming clean; he's quit the cult
that killed his mother and besmirched her name.
The Family's got no place for an adult
who can't be leashed with wealth, nor gagged with shame.
The Palace Press retorts with candy floss;
watch George and Charlotte chew the moppet roles!
Let peasants, grieving for the late Queen's loss
take comfort thinking someone's in control.
The Tories deem this contretemps a hoot!
distracting shoppers from their BREXIT mire.
As PM after PM gets the boot,
the cost of living's mounting ever higher.
While France dispensed with monarchs long ago,
most Brits still tune in to this stupid show.