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Racing

By Cliff Lake
  Racing   The final sprint, The stakes outlined in stark contrast, The finish in clear sight… And where will you be? Where will it end?   Can one afford to rest? Is a break needed, Warranted, Is it required? Or is it the latest sign of a stumble?   Oh, the grind! The constant motion! The ceaseless scrutiny! The irregular weave! A heavy burden…   The questions. The interminable questions. The incessant review. A never-ending examination of content, Of motive, Of pronunciation.   Facts, facts, facts! The endless calls for verified facts! Is it not enough to show up? The facts are what you want them to be! The facts are what you need them to be! The fact is – You said what you said, That should be enough for anyone.   Interview after interview, They all feel the same, Until they don’t. Until the rooms are not filled with friends, With allies, With collaborators.   Do the skies darken? Do your prospect
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Hallowed Evening

By Cliff Lake
  Hallowed Evening   The observance is upon us again: A reversed imitation of sweets soon given, A mutilation and An emptying. A nightmare born, A gruesome rictus fashioned, Made in glee, Proudly displayed. The rite begins…   Grinning ghouls orange and squat, Stand sided with cousins not yet carved – A ritual still performed with the knife, Children watching, And encouraged to participate. Harvest and sacrifice: Such is the custom.   Doorstop fiends on every porch, Filmy webs waving, Gaunt caricatures in seeming cavort, Hulking beasts cartoonish, Or horrifying, Or something of both, While the husks of the carven are inner lit, And watchful. A communion in frights.   Later, Suspect festivities commence, Games reminiscent of dreads, Mawkish disguises roam darkening streets, Diminutive creatures seeking succor unearned, Unrepaid, Yet expected, And accompanied by vigilant guardians suspicious. The ceremonial gorgin
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True Horror

By Cliff Lake
True Horror   When the sun has bowed to the horizon, That slip of orange fire, A menace of near absence in flame, Now the long shadows twist too dark, Animate from sided sight, Groping arms flat in the receding light. Listen to leaves restless without wind, Whisperers of secrets you do not want to hear, A papery chorus made more clear in the dry air, Speaking the chill come too quick. What denial can you offer? In the failing glow What truths hold, And what may be made real, From the recesses of the mind and The dark splashes grounded and grown deep. The hissing leaves tell tales of gray, The wavering glimmers confirm all and nothing, Time is stretching interminable, And all is unfocused in sharp detail: A piercing fog reaching, Enveloping, Surrounding, To carry your understanding away from you, Leaving an empty husk of sensation only. Why do you remain? Is this what you wanted? To be diminished to mere reaction minus awareness,
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Beyond

By Cliff Lake
  Beyond   There is a place that lies between, Not fantasy, but living dream, You may visit, but cannot stay, Yet live a year within a day.   I fell in there, or was I pushed, It seems there was a merest touch, A hint to let go of the bonds, An invitation to beyond.   There was a time that I could go, And learn the things no one could know. But this is now and that was then – I wish that I could go again.   So many voices, the chorus sings. So many verses of many things. Knowledge granted you cannot hold, Still, one of all things you are told.   I rested there, and still labored, Every being there was a neighbor. Bliss and worry became one, And nothing asked did I shun.   There was a time that I could go, And learn the things no one could know. But this is now, and I don’t know when – That I could ever know again.   A year or more I drifted there, Cocooned it seemed in velvet snare. Was I made whole or made undone? I
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Remember

By Cliff Lake
  Remember   He doesn’t remember favors. He doesn’t remember nice-nice. He doesn’t remember the good times you had… He remembers dollars – over a certain amount, Over a certain time period, That is, If you’re promising more… He remembers insults, real and imagined. He remembers bad press, real and imagined. He remembers glories that did not occur. He does not remember grace. He does not remember to be kind. He does not remember in kind… He remembers to capitalize on your mistake. He remembers failures others did not perform. He remembers how hot she USED to look… He doesn’t remember history. He doesn’t remember infamy. He doesn’t remember atrocity. He remembers to discredit others. He remembers to elevate himself. He remembers to misremember. He remembers when he was never quite good enough. He doesn’t remember failing, Over and over. He doesn’t remember loyalty. He doesn’t remember the law. He doesn’t remember anything That h
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Location: 1100 S Ocean Blvd, Palm Beach, FL 33480, USA
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Long Road

By Cliff Lake
  Long Road   The pushing of one from here to there, Personhood light as a feather in the air. Fitted into alike container, Never needing now an explainer.   Stamp them out, all of them the same, Wonders why one needs a name. Wonders who I came to be now, Wonders if I can get back somehow.   The long road back to who I am. Going away was never the plan. But life interferes, With opinion in my ears, And it’s a long road back To who I am.   Do I fit in, am I okay? Will I always have the right thing to say? Am I taking the right medicine? Must I always wear this stupid grin?   Feeling like a powder keg, Constantly squaring this round peg. Being like everyone, but at what cost? Why do I feel that something’s lost?   And it’s a long road back to who I am. Leaving me behind was never the plan. But with all of the tears, Over all of the years, It has been a long road back To who I am.   Cliff Lake 10/14/2024 Copyright © C
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Hurrican't Me!

By Cliff Lake
  Hurrican’t Me!   I was in deep shit When the space laser hit, Operated by a weatherman. When the hurricane came, I thought it would be tame, But now I’m hanging on by a tether man. FEMA showed up, To do the cleanup, And preachin’ that DT Syndrome, So I chased ‘em off, My brain ain’t soft, And the bastards ain’t takin’ my home.   It’s a FEMA crap show, Take that money and go, So I can blame my poverty on them! It’s the liberal plan To make me less than a man! That’s my excuse for causing more mayhem.   I called up the TV, And you can believe me, Told them not to show up around my town. I made it real clear, They should not come near, Cuz I am ‘bout ready for a showdown. And I sent a email, They should all be jailed, For trying to push that crap climate change. Don’t they hear Margie Greene? Why don’t they come clean? I am tired of this Donald Trump derange!   It’s a liberal shitshow, And they think we don’t know
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Blown In

By Cliff Lake
  Blown In   A wind blown in, Unmoving leaves, A touch of unreal, And a cold that cleaves.   How will you suffer the long chill? Can you hold on to your will? What gods have you left to implore? Who opened this unhallowed door?   A mirror cracks across the face, Now is rended time and place. A journey where being unbraids, Certainty and logic unmade.   A wind blown in, Some thing aggrieved. A touch of unreal, And your senses leave.   No ease given, no sense of time, Just this trek to benighted clime. A glimpse of that which cannot be, You the newest attendee.   Ceremony made in all dread, Profane announcements are now pled. Involvement you may not eschew, As the baleful eyes look you through.   The thing blown in, Your senses thieved. A touch of unreal, Actuality reweaved.   In a moment you disarranged, In a moment forever changed. Do you welcome this unbeing? Do you find yourself agreeing?   Where have
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Dawnbringers

By Cliff Lake
  Dawnbringers   It has the feel of imminent disaster, A coruscation of calamity As the clock ticks. Momentous catastrophe offered, And never withheld, Especially when refused.   There is the sense of a ferocious humor, Taking its amusement in rampage, A satisfaction only gleaned From the crimson rivulet, A monstrous glee lasting only instants, Before demanding satisfaction anew.   It lays claim to wherever it roams, Providing horror in lieu of proof. Its savage delights surface in nightmare, The gibbering giggles and cold cackles Follow from dreamscape, To landscape, Without escape.   You would suspect your lunacy If you did not spy its smile Behind publicized opinion. There it dwells, The cruel jests in corrupted media, Told by comedic counsel, With sharpened teeth, And the splitted tongue.   Watch them guffaw for you, As the laughter never reaches the eyes – For they too are chained to the terror, They would inv
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Twilit

By Cliff Lake
  Twilit   The cooling twilight Brings uncertain light And the unease Of approaching night   A purposed mist Seems to insist Voices within Can’t be dismissed   Unwilling trance Unholy dance No way you avoid Profane advance   The cold twilight Bringing uncertain light Can you really believe What curses your sight   Your calm fraying Your fear weighing Why do you acknowledge What they’re saying   Memory twisted Sins are listed This is not the whole Of your life consisted   The chilling twilight In such uncertain light There is no time To make things right   Dead voices from your past Mistakes from the die you cast They come with the mist To claim their due at last   In the mist the voices call Listing your guilts great and small You may not escape They have you in thrall   The bleak twilight Is an uncertain light You are remade A creature of night.   Cliff Lake 10/9/2024 Copyright ©
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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No Eyes

By Cliff Lake
  No Eyes   I am not as comfortable With intended blindness as some. I am not as slavishly devoted To ignoring the loaded gun. The evidence is piling up, And they’re running out of sand To force their head back into, Why won’t they understand?   The blatant lies, The bandage disguise, The childish snarks, The pillaged marks.   Demanded loyalty, And they refuse to see The declining score, All of this and more…   I am not as comfortable With intended blindness as some. I am not as slavishly devoted To ignoring the loaded gun. The evidence is piling up, And they’re running out of sand To force their head back into, Why won’t they understand?   The temps too warm, The violent storms. Places hit twice, The melting ice.   The drying lakes, What will it take? The washing shores, All of this and more…   I am not as comfortable With intended blindness as some. I am not as slavishly devoted To ignoring the load
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Together

By Cliff Lake
  Together   I don’t want to vote for rage and insult, So I won’t. I don’t want to vote for fear and hatred, So I won’t. I don’t want to vote for racism, I don’t want to vote for suspicion, I don’t want to vote for greed, I don’t want to vote for misogyny – And I won’t.   I am not voting to punish. I am not voting to justify. I am not voting to legitimize. I am not voting to rationalize. I want to vote for care, So I will. I want to vote for hope, So I will. I want to vote for humanity, I want to vote for empathy, I want to vote for understanding, I want to vote for inclusion – And I will.   I am voting for accountability. I am voting for reason. I am voting for sustainability. I am voting for justice.   I am voting for me, And I am voting for you. We are in this together, All of us… It is time to remember that, We are in this together.   Cliff Lake 10/8/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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An Empty House

By Cliff Lake
An Empty House   Hey Speaker Mike, Got enough likes From your social media stance? You do this fail, It could mean jail, If you keep up this Trumped-up dance.   Un-brown that nose, But the story goes, We all know who holds your leash. Thump that Bible, But you could be liable For not practicing what you preach.   Make the Dems look bad And ain’t it sad All the folks that are under water. Tell me lad, Do they know they’re had? That you led your lambs to the slaughter?   When the storm blows in, We will know your sin, We will count your cost in lives. When the storm goes out, It will leave no doubt You are just all shuck and jive.   You’re not saving face, You look a disgrace, If you don’t find a way to aid more. Do not choose loss, That man is not the boss, Time to do the job you’re paid for.   O Good Speaker, This can’t get bleaker, Better get yourself in action. Our patience is thin, Your prospects are d
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Location: Washington, DC, USA
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Shenan-agains

By Cliff Lake
  Shenan-agains   See the cyclone bearing down, See politicians can’t be found. Unless it’s in an interview, Best place for bullshit to spew   Fail the bills, then fail some more, Kill those bills you dirty whore. Pull the purse strings, close the vault, Then say it’s someone else’s fault.   The lies they tell, the lies they sell, Stuck in a dis-info cell. Fallen to the tyrant’s spell, Contributes to their rotting smell. Too many times gone to the well, Listen for the final bell.   See them all sing like a swan, See and then they’re gone. But they’ll ramble on ‘til dawn, About failed aid counted on.   Now the storm is breaching shores, Where the grapes of psychopath are stored. Where the tyrant is residing, Will they come out from their hiding?   The lies they tell, the lies they sell, Stuck in a dis-info cell. Fallen to the tyrant’s spell, Contributes to their rotting smell. Too many times gone to the well, Listen for
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Location: 1100 S Ocean Blvd, Palm Beach, FL 33480, USA
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Unhouse

By Cliff Lake
  Unhouse   There is a house that isn’t there. Not all the time. Don’t look directly at it – It will bend out of your view, And that hurts. Leaves an empty spot in your brain. It goes away, In a week or two, If you don’t look again. There is a house not always there. Don’t walk past at night, Not even with a friend. The noises it doesn’t make Cannot be unheard and Won’t let you sleep, Like icicles inside the ears, Or an itch that speaks murder. There is a house that should not be there. No one built it, No one lives there, They just pass by the windows sometimes. Like shadows of time biters, They hypnotize out of the corner of your eye. They would only borrow your existence, And return it to you emptied. There is a house that has never been there. Just a space at the corner, That doesn’t feel unoccupied, And seems most devoid of life. But no one ever buys the lot When it is vacant. And no one ever looks that way When i
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Lantern Jack Loses It

By Cliff Lake
  Lantern Jack Loses It   Lantern Jack was feeling black, His scare demeanor had gone slack. He could not freeze them in their tracks, He was afraid he’d lost his knack.   He needed to scare at hello, Or Lantern Jack was just some schmo. Lantern Jack needed scare ammo, Or Lantern Jack would frighten no bro.   Lantern Jack had lost his mojo. Lantern Jack would be a no show.   Lantern Jack and his black cat, Went out to where there’s toadstools at. Lantern Jack filled up his top hat, Brought them home to his big black vat.   Jack now set the pot to boil. Waited for the mess to roil. Jack added in some snake oil, And a pinch of graveyard soil.   Lantern Jack had lost his mojo. Lantern Jack would frighten no mo.   Jack put in exotic spices, And some powdered batwing slices. Said invocations once or twices, And stirred the stew with weird devices.   But then Jack’s bony big black cat, Took great offence, sat up and spat.
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Path

By Cliff Lake
  Path   Moments in time in frozen dream, Of petty mind, or broken scheme. Or complex plan beyond our stretch, Each a memory to etch.   What fail recalled, reminded pains? What can overshadow your gains? Memory is not tied to fate, Regret harbored is simply weight.   The many paths we might have tread, The many words we left unsaid. Down the path of time we’re sped, Fleeing the tears we once had shed.   What could have been is now the past, That was then, the die has been cast. New days have now come and are gone, Pick yourself up – time to move on.   The many paths we might have tread, The many words we left unsaid. Down the path of time we’re sped, Fleeing the tears we once had shed.   You are not the only one, Regretting what has or not been done. The future is never disclosed – You’re on the path that you chose.   The many paths we might have tread, The many words we left unsaid. Down the path of time we’re sped,
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Darklings

By Cliff Lake
  Darklings   Sheltering in lengthening shadow, A slither and crawl and slink is made to arrive, The darklings linger, And wait for their appointed turn. Moments they have only, Time snatched from the spans, A trouble they bring to the unwary, To the unguarded, To the unaware. Frights they have in abundance: Whispers from far places, Or the corner of a room, Or the pillow beneath the head. They may twist shadows reaching, Lengthened claws in the dark, While cackles circle the mind, Or bone-scrapes sing discordant. Vagrant mists may arise, Animate and translucent, Seeking entry with cold tendril damp, Or gyrating in mad seduction. Unmelodies may strain in dissonance, Deranged themes to unwind the wit, Laying bare dreads thought forgotten. All these the darklings hold to wield, Horrors concocted in planes unthinkable, Reaches out of sync with time or reason. They have but a little while, Therefore their dires are potent, Brewe
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Too Easy

By Cliff Lake
  Too Easy   The tell: The slavish fealty reveals. Our nation’s principles mean nothing To the unprincipled. The complaint: “Why may I not lie?” Outlandish claims on attempted repeat – Some things simply may not fly. The undercurrent: “We are being replaced.” Every bad thing is laid upon the border, The corporate sponsor can do no wrongs. The image: Polished and groomed, Slick as goose grease, And as untrustworthy As the thinning ice he occupies. The mistake: Challenging an honest man. When talking from both sides of the mouth, At least one side Must speak at least some truth. The claims: Assigning merit and blame On the candidate, And forgetting she Is not yet in charge. The implication: She soon will be. The failure: To represent oneself worthy, By simply upholding the key doctrine Of the nation you would lead. A clear choice defined by a moment. Thank you, J.D. You’ve made it easy…   Cliff Lake 10/2/2024 C
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Location: Washington, DC, USA
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10th Moon

By Cliff Lake
  10 th Moon   When the shadows grow long, When the air cools swift, When green goes red, And the goose cries overhead, You feel the change, And your senses heighten.   The clatter of baring branches, The flash of yellowing leaves falling, The low whistles of wind in the eaves, These herald the change, Keeping you watchful, And waiting.   What do you wait upon, Or is it whom? No matter how often you have lived this, These swift shifts promise unsurety, Variances in sight and sound and feel, And the nights darken more deeply.   Moonlight comes clearer, Sharpening edges and outlines, Night sight precision Induces more uncertainty than clarity, Accuracy is not associated with night vision, A certitude that must not be trusted.   So too are night noises more evident, Palpable in their sharpness, Seeming both too near, And not far off at once. A deception in distinctness, Unmeaningfull when heard.   The changing weat
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Empties

By Cliff Lake
  Empties   The night becomes Dislighted. Shades enter – Patches of not dark, Nor graylight, But nonlight. They are here, Nonexisting and real, The Empties: Nothingness disclosed, Segments of unbeing. They are impossible. This is not how things are. This is how things are now. You have drifted to the Unplaces, Where things are not, And you must be not also, If you are to remain. The Empties have come, They coruscate with unreality, Unsparkling, Displaying the madness of misconsciousness, An invitation to unself. A congregation of envoidments beckoning, A persuasion of not insanity, But to unsanity. An unravelling of being to be Other. This will not be how things are. This is how things are now. The air here is now too thick, Your every breath takes on weight, Swallows of existence, Gulps of reality, Before you unbecome. The Empties have come, And are not here, And will take you anyway. This is the October H
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Land of Contagion

By Cliff Lake
  Land of Contagion   Hot blood spills on primal war grounds, Poisoned spirit pools, Collects, Gathers, Festers, Waits… The age-old ritual, Venerated and chronicled, Celebrated through repeat, And repeat. Hatreds and angers cluster in the very rocks, A muster of venom. Soils raged over defiled, Harboring corruption, To be dispensed in the airs under the baking sun, To filter into the waters, To make way into the growing grains, To be consumed again, To build up in the bones, To be released in the next bloodletting. A cycle in red. A blighted land hungers for the toxin, That it may release it to the hosts, To drink warm crimson once more. Thus cities have risen and fallen, Thus empires have been built and lost, Thus the inhabitants have ever reveled, Choosing violence ever, Choosing violence today. A contamination of ages, A malignancy of choice. Watch the contagion spread… Hot blood spills on primal war grounds, Pois
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Location: Israel
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Warded

By Cliff Lake
  Warded   Warders stand outside of time, Implacable as granite at the watch. Eons unmarked pass their notice, Such is not their care. There are Things Traversing the wide places between reason and Truth. Eaters, disruptors, malefactors, They are the purveyors of Nothing, And would consume themselves at the End. Belching null in their wake, They are anti, No more than that, Yet that is more than they wish to be, For that is still being, And they would have none. But they will not admit the Great Paradox, Believing instead that once all is consumed, And nothing is left to name the Void, That then it will cease to be. Still, they may not even consume themselves And leave nothing, For something has done that consumption, This is their base dissatisfaction, And they persist, Knowing their failure is of themselves only. And so, the warders stand outside of time, Never allowing the raveners near places of life, (Though some life See
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Living

By Cliff Lake
  Living   We succumb to the fantasy, Invested in make-believe, Slaves to Illusion and delusion, And willingly. Paper-ruled, Chasing calculation, Revering the reverie, A dream and nightmare we pursue, And must not escape, If we are to eat. We give over ever more To cold machines, Electronic measures of our value, Secretly encoded, Visible to none, But the enslavers. Ah! What folly! In a quest for more of the mirage, Too many debase themselves utterly, And what value have they then, Save the numbers on the screen? A concept of caliber Made real in the mind, Represented on paper, And carried in the diode, Seldom concrete in act. The totality of a person Numerically appraised, And presented in plastic. When did this become life? And when the power goes out – What will we value then? Empty bellies will answer that. Then we will remember life. Then we will remember living. Then we will remember how.   Cliff Lake 9
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Folly

By Cliff Lake
  Folly   The Folly. To create, To make new what has not been, Or rather, To make in imitation what already is, And doing so, Make Corruption.   Too many imitations have we done, Some of beauty, Some of poison.   Consider the mere reed flute: In imitation of birdsong, What brilliance we can conceive, What heights attain! Yet we do not supplant birdsong, But make song of our own, And still wonder at the creatures That have inspired us.   Consider the wooden plank, Beauteous furnishings May adorn our abodes, But our imitations of that resource, Are crude, cheap, and ruinous, Both in their production, And in their waste: Leeching harm into the very air, The water, The bones of the earth itself.   Yet we pursue more The things bent out of true: Metals and plastics, Burning what we can, Burying what we cannot, Instead of fashioning more beauty That celebrates creation, Rather than consuming it.   Are we su
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Last Moon

By Cliff Lake
Last Moon When the last moon fades, We will be the poorer for it: No more silvan nights, Or glades glittering in moonlit dew, No more frosts gleaming lighted, Or colors humbled to varying grays.   When the last moon dims, The tides will slow, And rocks unpolished litter the shore. No more bottles bearing tidings drift, Or twisted wood land gentle beached. No more crashing surf roar, Or lapping waves to call your spirit to peace.   When the last moon lowers, Will the stars remain, Or will she gather her children, And steal them away, Leaving us in a total obscure, And lost in the dark.   When the last moon pales, Will we mourn the loss, Or will we be already adrift, Misplaced in time and space, Driven by ambitions we never understood, And succumbed to in ignorance.   When the last moon darkens, We will know what we have lost, A magic we too long took as granted, A gift we could not fashion ourselves. When the last moon
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Darksong

By Cliff Lake
  Darksong   What lightless night comes? Who has removed the moon? Where are the stars taken? Long winds in staccato rasps, Stutter between the shivering trees, A chatter of unseen. Bare branches rub in violin shriek, Frosted leaves rattle in maraca pulse: This is the darksong. No light to illume the infernal concerto, You will endure this in inky black. Skittering rodents toe tap asymmetry, Wild felines make aria. Something in you strains to answer, But cold blood will not sing, Your accompaniment is mere moan, It will suffice, This is the darksong, There are no words. Something wails at the forest edge, It may be human, Or perhaps was, Mayhap another entity unknown, Unnamed, Better unidentified than recognized, What would you see, In the frigid dank? Now is the canine chorus: The mourned howls of dogs forgotten, The nervous yips of coyotes cowed in underscore, All overborne by the wolf calls, Greeting that which you ca
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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October – Slider

By Cliff Lake
  October – Slider   He was told it did not exist… Here it was. It was slippery in the sight, As if it were both not here, And were. It was almost not seen, It almost was. It oozed out of the vision, It earned the name: Slider. Cattle had gone missing, No longer the mystery. He had been told it did not exist. His eyes were trying to do the same. Seven, nine, maybe more cows gone, The thing was quiescent now, After such a meal, One needs a nap. Still, its hunger was palpable, Felt even in the ears, the nostrils, One anticipated being consumed, As if the appetite had a life all its own. Although it seemed not to sense him, He retreated, facing it, keeping it in (sight). He would find the Uncle, He that did not deny sliders, And claimed to have killed one. Most said he lied, Today, what he (sees) Says otherwise. A slider was near, A slider was here. This would need dispatched, Before it sensed Sweeter meat could be
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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October - The Burn

By Cliff Lake
  October – The Burn   The fetid air blows past, A marker he follows. He turns his mule slightly away, Though it hardly needs encouragement, The reek has a life to it, It won’t do to take it fully in the face; There is no certainty, That one can remove the odor from the skin. His quarry is ahead, Near enough to be marked, Far enough for caution, And keeping the stomach down. The prey before him had become Wrong, Many causes were proposed, All unpleasant, To such as he it mattered not, They rotted as they walked, Hungering for healthy flesh, And uncaring of its kind. They would not be many, The Turn was not easily survived, Some half succumbed in days. Those that endured, Did so too long, And would not be suffered, To make more like them, Or worse than that, If worse there was than their existence. And so, he would do a Burning, They easily lit, Staying long aflame, With lurid noisome smokes, Screaming garish embers tha
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Equinox Advent

By Cliff Lake
  Equinox Advent   A hint of cold Whispers of the fade. Bright tatters waving, And clarion rattles. Lungs catching in the thinning airs, Flickering shadows fleeing, And clear scents of an elderly wood. Mourning breezes, Graying skies, Hot sunsets, Cold moons obscured, And stars brighten in cooling heavens. Clattering thickets, Ragged voices calling afar, Lone howls, Engines sputter and fall away, And clear silence. Wafting smokes, Spices drifting in unseen and yet known, Herbs drying, Flowers waning, Ripening crops, And rain on the wind. The days fall away, The nights march, The air crisps, The rains cool, The colors glow briefly as fire, Burning themselves to dull browns, Awaiting their burial in white, And September retires in bright finale. October awaits.   Cliff Lake 9/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Task

By Cliff Lake
  Task   There was only a short time left, And still some way to go. He had asked about the others – None had come this way. The task was to be his alone then – As he had ever known, As was ever before him. He would not be well greeted, he thought, Though his aid here last, Was a mere generation past, Those who might have remembered him, Had long since walked their final path. Some would have reached The Garden, Some would be lost in The Between. He knew not which he may meet. He spoke a quick jest of it To those shades that might be near, For he had seen enough of life That he was certain, The Makers made jests of their own. As he rode, He wondered briefly after the others, What tasks had called them, What readiness they possessed. And he thought of the work before him, And what readiness was his own. The time was short, His beast moved beneath him, His mind moved within him, His task waited before him, And all things,
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Madness

By Cliff Lake
  Madness   The madmen. The madmen are out there. Perhaps you know one, Perhaps you know many, Perhaps you are one. The madmen The madmen are marching: Lock-stepped in lunacy, Repeating raw rhetoric, Believing the impossible, Reveling in hot-blooded lies, Exhilaration found In the dopamine feed of hate. An addiction costing nothing, That they haven’t already lost. The madmen. The madmen are close, Announcing themselves loudly: Peacock proud, Colors waving, Bannered, brazen, bold, bought. Brave enough to weapon up, Valorous in gangs, Courageous in crowds – The mob impulse protects. The madmen. The madmen are speaking, Warnings couched in lies, Dread made from whole cloth, Fanciful terrors constructed, Imaginary fates promised. But protection is offered by the mad, Safety from the fanciful, Guardianship from fictional fears, But not from themselves. The madmen are here, They wish you to join them. They make it
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Hush

By Cliff Lake
Hush   Do you hear the quiet? Or have you heard The bustle of a million lives Too close And somehow not near enough?   The hum and clank, The buzz and roar, The empty eyes filled with false image, The empty ears plugged, A vacuum of humanity, Sucked into electronic oblivion.   Endlessly informed, Yet knowing nothing of lessons learned Of the shading oak, The constant sea, Or the susurrus of new-fallen leaves. Such gentle lectures. It is in quietude That we see ourselves more clearly.   The rushing colors of madnesses sold, The unsettling beat of “More, more, more!” What can be learned of these, Unless it be that your pockets Can be ever emptier, And that you have been consumed In your consumption.   Don’t you hear the quiet? It is calling.   Cliff Lake 9/19/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Breathing

By Cliff Lake
  Breathing   I saw a tree breathe once, Just once, And I cried for the trees, I had seen Fallen to the axe. I heard the sky moan once, As it mourned, And I cried for the sky, When I heard it Draw another breath, To cry on its own. I felt the earth groan, Its pain my own, As it trembled, And prepares To shake off Damage already too deep. I watched the sea heave, To throw off The dirty veil That skins its surface, And drowns the life it carries. I see the mountains shake, I see the lava flow, I see the rivers swell, I hear the end Of a dominance We have not earned, And will not keep.   I saw a tree breathe once. I will see another.   Cliff Lake 9/19/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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Guardians

By Cliff Lake
  Guardians   Ancient statues line the weathered course, Solemn visages gaze upon the traveler, Mute reminders of a past forgotten, Telling nothing of themselves. Who are these silent guardians? See their stern glances! Do not stray from this road; They are watching. Girded they are, Lightly clothed in moss and ivy, Yet somehow still clear-eyed. Regal they are, yes and more: They are vivid, Lucid in their carriage, Vigorous in stone: An eloquent stillness, Spirits in marbled elegance. Reverence here is no option: It is imposed, Nonetheless, One finds oneself willing, And glad to venerate – A pilgrim on this track Senses their protection, Though from what, None dare ask, And none have told. Yet all that have come this way, Speak in hushed and regarded tone Of the stone watchers, And of the cruel whispers heard: Beckoning, Imploring, Raving, To each side of the trail, And none, None remember What was seen on th
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Location: Wichita, KS, USA
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