Ye mighty scholar, Ogletree, tak'st his leave at seven score,
A beacon 'gainst the night, his quest - justice for the poor.
In Tulsa's fiery tale he scribed, righted history's gore,
To Nobel kin Obama, a guide, his counsel they did implore.

Changes bloom in taxes realm, no shelter for the rich,
Their silver hoards are set to feel, a tightening of the hitch.
Will this turn the ship of state or just extend the ditch?
In the echoes of the treasury's hall, awaits the answer to this pitch.

Lo! East dragons into the peace, the Ukraine talks do draw,
Under Arab starlight painted skies, they wrestle with the law.
Unseen is the bear, removed from this diplomatic maw,
Narrow grows the delta of dissent, optimism is not raw.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur