Corre, Corre, Corre

The Eurozone is worried that in Spain
A mini-Grecian falling out is due.
Investors have a fear that they’d accrue
A stunning loss of money if the reign-/ing
Worry of defaulting would become
A pattern – Grecian worries, Grecian fall;
And then a Spanish worry – that is all
That’s ever necessary for to numb
The money-healthy to a greater fear
That any of their efforts are in vain.
The Spanish government is very plain –
They’ve given reassurances to clear
The fear of all the European doubt.
(Too bad the money’s quickly coming out.)

Don't Do Drugs

It's only when you read or see the grisly details of a thing that you start to take it seriously, and realize it's not a joke.

Defacing any property’s a crime.
Defacing any person is a phrase
I would have thought a turn, in subtle ways
Describing an assault.  This very time
It’s literal; the face was taken off
(Or part of it), consumed, and while appalled
I’m sure I’d be, ere decency had called
My morbid curiosity and scoff-/ing
Phrases in to reign, I had to laugh
(A moment).  For it couldn’t have been real.
The headline had the very look and feel
Of any in The Onion; fully half
Of all those weighing in were well agreed
(Until we read how he had made him bleed).

Everyone is Wrong

The president’s advisers have a list,
And he’s approving names, ere they are shot,
Confirming some, and others that are not
As certain, letting go.  The very gist
Of eight and lengthy pages is a point
Too often lost on all the angry Right
(And Left), demeaning efforts of a fight
On terrorists.  DC is out of joint
If I may claim the president is weak
On national defense, and jointly claim
That he’s destroying any moral aim
His candidacy had.  We shouldn’t speak
At all if we cannot make any sense
(Few people do, on national defense).

Memoriam

My father didn’t die.  My mother’s dad
Had suffered ere he went, when Vietnam
Had sent him packing home with the aplomb
Deserving all the sick, and weary.  Bad
As may it be, comparing both, I know,
Though neither was a fan of Congress, I
Had heard ‘em say they’d quickly go to die
For any order given.  Toe to toe,
They’d make a bloody stand: my father, not
A firm believer in our given right
To right the world with all our righteous might,
And grandpa, sick and dying.  I have got
A little each within me, but I live
While they have given all they have to give.

Ouch

The Citi isn’t sleeping.  20 mill-/ion,
Give or take, is half an hour’s loss
(Or due to half an hour), in a toss
And bitter turn of prices.  Any thrill
Of quick initial gains is quickly gone.
I’m betting all investors haven’t thought
To any possibility that not
A fraction of the money sitting on
The chances of a profit coming soon
Will find a quick return; it’s very sad,
But true, that any profit to be had
Is all in advertising, and the boon
To ad avoiders is an easy block.
Too bad the market had to suffer shock.

Money Isn't Everything. Unless It's a Lot of Money.

The deficit is bigger than it looks
By quite an awful lot.  The story's not
A very pleasant read, and hasn't got
A very happy ending.  To the books
Is given quite a respite from a full
And honest calculation; to the men
And women calculating if, and when,
The honest calculation will annul
Projections given in the given books,
Is given quite a bitter lesson here:
For all the debt we're well-advised to fear,
The biggest isn't warring, or the crooks
In Congress or the market, but the debt
That we have simply not acknowledged yet.

The 13th Labor

The Grecians all insist they’re staying put.
The rest of Europe isn’t well-assured.
For runners from their savings to be lured,
Or brokers, worried losses are afoot,
From any better deals to keep away,
Or rioters to calm, or looters, all
Awaiting any due they’ve come to call
Their own, to put in prison, or a fray
Within the Grecian streets to quiet down
Is quite a Herculean task, indeed.
The timing makes a failure guaranteed –
Two hours shy a weekend is a crown,
A 13th labor for the Grecian might.
You’re better trading Facebook, at its height.

People Can Be Dumb

I've never understood people's outrage in politics. Apparently questioning Romney's record at Bain Capital is out of bounds, but questioning his Mormon beliefs or his universal health care is obvious fair game, or a presidential bow before a Saudi leader. In short, religious beliefs that are unlikely to affect day-to-day White House policies, and courteous bows, are game for questioning, but not a candidate's record in the private sector.

Obama’s under fire for a shot
At Romney, and at Bain, and we’re surprised
That politics is dirty.  Be advised:
Elections are, as often as of not,
A bitter feud.  And all presumption here
Is quite surprising: Mormonism, health
And universal access to it (wealth
Is verily avoided) put a fear
In any worried his religion might
Inspire some apocalypse.  But all
And any questions on the bitter pall
His acquisitions put upon the plight
Of any working men is out of bounds
(I guess a Saudi bow is better grounds).

Chicaoland

Chicago’s beating down the trodden, there
To stand in NATO’s opposition.  Peace
Is hardly in the offering; release
Of long or righteous rage, when any share
The burdens of invasion or of war,
Is likelier to spawn a bloody fight.
So far, however, fear has given flight
To quite absurd arrests, and many more
Fear-pushing headlines: riots, thugs, batons,
And one unfortunate, who, making beer,
Was branded “making bomb.” It mightn’t cheer
The worries of the readers to the cons
Of letting dissidents traverse the ground.
Thank god it’s not the other way around.

Succeeding Generations, At a Loss

That Merkel and Obama are at odds
At ending Grecian exits, that Hollande
Is leaning towards Obama, that his land
Is voting out austerity – ye gods, 
Succeeding generations will acquit
Us or condemn us on decisions made
Within these very meetings, any swayed
Within them, any promise or commit-/ment
Made, and broken off, and any lies
(The list goes on a while) – is a sign
A greater pain is coming to align
Succeeding generations to the cries
Of suffering, and hoping, in the end,
Your toil may the world, in pieces, mend.

Mark Zuckerburg's a Wealthy, Wealthy Man

Will post yesterday's poem later.

So, Zuckerburg’s a wealthy, wealthy man
(A very wealthy man).  His IPO
Is beating all within the status quo
Of other public offerings.  A plan
To crush financial records wasn’t plain,
Or so I would imagine, to the few
Who, many years ago, had made a coup
On other social networks, were the bane
Of Mr. Anderson or Google Plus,
And hadn’t well imagined that it’s use
Would far outlast a lawsuit, or abuse
Of private information.  All of us
Have judged him, yes, but keep on logging in.
And, even losing, Mark is sure to win.

Grecian Run

The richer Grecians running on the banks
Are dropping all the markets.  Such a fate
Is quicker, when a fear that we’d abate
A devastating end is in the ranks
Of any person holding an account
In danger of withholding any funds
Within it, if the many other runs
By many other people may amount
To much-reduced ability to pay
The money to the owner.  Finish last,
You’ll never get your money; finish fast,
You’ve got a better chance.  And so the day
Has thusly finished out in pitied Greece,
It’s people losing all financial peace.

Beware of Greeks Bearing Euros

Ms. Merkel’s threatened Greece, and all await
The specter of a monetary dip,
And civil war in Greece.  The very quip,
And very unintended, on the fate
Of Grecians leaving Euros is, at once,
A headline of denial.  Merkel said,
“I don’t expect it happens;” well, to bed
Are all the fears, anxieties, and hunts
For any lucky break.  And yet, if she
Did not expect it happens, it is odd
She mentioned it officially, a nod
To all the fear of possibility
Where Grecians now are fighting for a life
That may descend in bitter civil strife.

Baby, I Can See Your Halo

Late today. Apologies.

Barack’s a homosexual, I guess,
According to the magazine, a saint,
A hint of how he’d act, without constraint,
Though yet he isn’t acting.  I confess
I never really cared about a law
To make a legal union, on a par
With marriage as a union, or to bar
Forever its enacting. If at all
A warning is appropriate, alarm
Is better felt by all within the church.
You're giving up authority, and search-/ing
Minds for legal precedent may harm
Your culture war.  You gave DC the right
To say what marriage is, without a fight.

(I do believe that isn't very bright.)

Yesterday, and Today

Two today, to catch up.

“A billion is a lot, and we’ve a few” – 
Lamenting Jerry Brown.  It’s quite a shame.
When all association with your name
Is measured with a number that is too
Much brobdingnagian to be of use
In any average summing, you are screwed
(At least as far as budgets go).  Alas,
The budget he’s proposing couldn’t pass
Without promoting moving, to elude
The higher taxes on the very rich.
It’s likely all the wealthy’d slip across
The border to the north, or east, a loss
That’d make it hard for any budget pitch
To last within a session of the men
Avoiding debt for Cali yet again.

And yesterday...

“Obama’s been a disappointing man
To many other nations.”  This is odd –
Conservatives aligning the façade
Of world opinion to the coming plan
To put in office Mitt.  The reasons here
Obama has for falling very short
Of world opinion are the very sort
Of reasons that, if weaker, would appear
To piss off all conservatives the more.
The global disappointment is a thing
Conservatives have treasured – let him bring
Authority, or troops, or speeches for
To call a region evil, and applause
Is given, while the world is given gauze.

Biden Jumps the Gun

Barack Obama’s getting really mad
(Perhaps, at any rate) that Biden, true
To Biden form, has made a verbal coup
And spoken far too much, as if he had
Authority to make Obama heel,
And follow in his shadow.  This is great;
It’s rare, and very rare, when, as of late,
Our politics are funny.  Thus he’ll reel
His second-in-commanding in, and then
Himself re-state the very same opinion,
As if he weren’t the former, but a minion
Rehashing all the thoughts of other men
And making them his own.  God bless him, Biden,
The quicker Zeus, before Barack’s Poseidon. 

Dumb

I haven’t writ a sonnet in a while,
The hours spent in studying, awake
From dusk until the morning, for the sake
Of passing.  All the news I can compi-/le
Tells of fatter people, of debate
On sanctity of marriage, and of this:
A party where a night is sure amiss
Without a party (Hollywood).  The rate
At which I grow to care about the way
The president can raise his money is
Much closer now to nothing.  It is his
To run, and to attend, and if a fray
Ensues about a bash, then we are lost,
Attending mist when we are tempest-tossed.

A Socialist is President of France

I hadn’t written much the prior day.
The headline is the same, and I suppose
That’s fortunate for writers; and for those
Who live within the headlines and the fray,
It’s quite unfortunate.  Hollande has won.
A Socialist is president of France,
Ascending to his service in advance
Of policies that make the richer run
As far away as possible.  Alas,
Poor Nicolas could never turn around
The people’s fear of running to the ground
Their future and prosperity.  The mass
Of voting men and women threw him out.
Incumbency’s a burden, too, no doubt.

Bored Awful

I've found it as odd that Drudge considers the automatic shooting of a plane entering a no-fly zone for an area that protects NATO leaders as strange as his decision to call it "Chicago-style" security. Forgive me, sir, but that's fairly standard procedure ANYwhere.

The prior day’s economy was down,
Reflecting any trend the day before,
And many other days.  The measures for
Security for NATO is a town
Sequestered for a time, and that is all
That’s leading in the news.  It’s very dull;
Procedures, fewer jobs, and such a lull
In inter-office scandals that the pall
Of sudden realization that the state
Will shoot a craft approaching any place
Where presidents abide is kept apace
With equal fear and vigor as the fate
Of anyone who’ll actually be shot.
The fear and act are equal, though they’re not.

I Fear We're Not Our Country Anymore

Armenians are waiting for a word
Acknowledging their suffering.  Alas,
It hasn’t yet been spoken, and the mass
Of innocents are waiting to be heard.
Their peace is far afoul of Turkey.  We,
For fear of losing money we’d obtain
From business in the country, wouldn’t deign
To comment on a holocaust.  And he,
The brave, unseeing Chinaman, is trapped,
Afraid, and earnestly beseeching aid.
I fear the fear offending they who paid
For all our deepened debt may well have tapped
The bravery that we had had before.
I fear we’re not our country anymore.

The Great Game, and Losing II

As absolutely horrendously cynical as it sounds, I'm genuinely happy that my country has, at the very least, the distinction of being the only country to leave Afghanistan after invading when we were asked, rather than holding on and ultimately being driven out in a trail of blood. The Romans might be an exception, but they left precisely because they foresaw that very trail of blood.

The president is speaking in Kabul.
“We’ve got a working partnership,” and so
It goes, for many paragraphs, a show
For any able voters in a lull
In vying for a candidate.  A shame
I couldn’t write a speech for him myself.
There’s little point to praising any health
In any pitied partnership.  The fame
We carry from the country isn’t good;
It’s slightly better than the Russians, Greeks,
Or Persians, Mongols, British, whom the sheiks
Destroyed at Gandamak.  And if we would
Attempt to nip destruction in the bud,
We’d leave when asked, without a trail of blood.

Praise Floats, as Does Blame

Procrastinated today, so two sonnets to catch up. With all respect to the SEALS - and I've had a great deal of respect for them since I was nine - equally and accurately distributing praise for a good deed is only consistent with an effort to equally and accurately distribute blame for a bad deed. Obama distributes blame; conservatives place it all on him. Conservatives distribute praise; Obama places it atop his own head. Neither one is being remotely consistent. Do both, or neither. This debate is logically pointless.

There’s not a one that understands, but me.
It’s arrogant, but hear me out – the Seals
Are very much upset at the appeals
The president is making, as a plea
To boost his reelection.  This is dumb.
The man’s a politician; no surprise
Should come that he is promises, and lies,
A wad of self-promotion, unbecom-/ing
Any man of honor.  Dubya, too,
And Clinton, Reagan, Bush, and Carter – all
Have sold apportioned truths.  If any call
To vilify the man for being true
To his profession ever brings him down,
We’ve let our double standard up and drown.

Besides, if all the blame for our estate
Is all upon the leader, any praise
Is also fully on the very pate
That suffers ridicule for our malaise.