O'er the spinning globe of fortune, gold policy hath been questioned,
As the market's tender cradle shows an unsettling intention.
The bard sings of softened goldilocks, once firm in her duration,
Now whispers of weakening macro trends cause consternation.

A senator cloaked in dignity, now stained with infamy's mark,
Charged with bribery's dark dance, his honour lost in the dark.
Calls for resignation echo through Senate's hallowed halls,
Another servant of democracy beneath scandal's shadow falls.

In realms of light where words take flight, a new creation stirs,
Chatbots, born of artifice, with distinct personas it confers,
To attract the young, who with eager tongue, seek playful conversation,
On Meta's stage, the new age scribe weaves tales of innovation.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur