CliffSongs

Calamity Game   The loudest voices Screech at each other And still struggle to be heard. An operatic dissonance A bewilderment And an entertainment Obscuring the instrument Grinding a world to dust. These words have been said Too many times, Too many ways, By so many others, And still go unheeded By nearly all of us. How have we been trapped? With easy conveniences? Yes. With the promise of indulgence? Surely. With fears of impoverishment, Of having just a bit less, Or a disagreeable moment? Absolutely. Greed is the human absolute. It may be evidenced By the quest for the better blanket, The fancier coffee, Or new pants in BOTH colors. Our rising seas, Worsening storms, Expanding droughts, Are all fired by the human absolute: The lust for “better’, “more”, Or simply different From what we already possess. We are still toddlers saying “Mine, mine, MINE.” The worst part? So many of us know that… And not enoug

  First Night   In the long years before the moon was hung, And the stars were less widely strewn, Ancient terror dwelt ‘neath the darkling skies, And stalked a fledgling race new come.   Some monstrous breed not natural born, Jealous of the innocents unspoiled, With fearsome weapon and insatiable thirst, They hunted in unbroken night.   But could not fully vanquish then For though the race of man was new, Bright-eyed they were and empty yet Of knowledge that could turn them cruel.   But soon their minds were turned to things That could be made for their defense And being yet in their youth Their study proved to be too quick.   And though the struggle was long and long, The foe was at last rooted out. To stalk no more these savage young In whom now was a fire lit.   A flame in them that burned too hot To ever be now fully quenched And so they looked for new enemy to quell, And found only each other to ready hand.   Today t

The Plot   They were in the park today. They were in Walmart. Some were seen driving around town. Others stayed home and cooked on the grill. They seemed to be everywhere, Yet it was impossible to tell them apart From regular people. They didn’t wear ballcaps To identify their ideology, They didn’t fly flags from their trucks. They were the leftists And they looked normal. If they wear a rainbow we know them, And we have to fight off the indoctrination Before it gets us And we end up in a library. How do we know if they are the agenda If they don’t have a lib hat? What if they are atheist Or simply nice? These are the things We should watch out for, Before they come up with documentation Or facts. They keep saying Jesus was woke, But I have a meme that says Trump 2024 So I know better. They were in town today. They were walking And driving And shopping And having an agenda. They were all around me. The leftists. Th

In the End   What is set to distract me today? What garish color presented? What noises near or distant? What almost sensical headline read? What torrid editorial misguiding? Such entertainments are exhausting. Some days it is enough To get food in me, To hear a familiar tune, Or visit with the neighbor’s dog. The machinations that make this system churn Tire me in ways overcome only by simplicity: Small joys that feed deeply And sometimes don’t come often enough. The days wind down And a long night approaches, Then I will sleep long. What is to become of me then? What final indignity Will be performed on my still form Unheeding Of the ministrations performed? Will my natural fluids be drained? Replaced with a better class of chemical Destined to keep my carcass From rotting so quickly And thereby discomfiting The still-living Who will never be looking at it again? Will my cadaver be then shoved into a box And buried deep

  Motoring   Behind the flashing colors, Beneath the trumpets and drums, Working the players and the played, The machine groans on. Oiled with coin and blood, Fired by greed, Powered by disdain and lust, It eats innocence, It shits pain. Louder the production screams To cover the clank and clang Of an apparatus too ancient to run And too pervasive to quit. An engine operated by monstrous egos Convinced of their right to indulge Or engulf Or intake Whenever desired Whenever decreed. Diseased, decadent, depraved, Skeletal remainders of humanity, Or fattened and greased, They maneuver their agents with promises, Offering tastes of the debasements That are reserved for themselves in full. Still the mechanism toils on A thing self-serving, Operating now only to continue operating, Producing labor, filth, heartache, And the degradation of all species. A machination that can only result in The obsolescence of the species that b

  False Flag   And so the low itch begins: Not with a flash and a bang, But with the soft plop Of the indulged bottom hitting the floor Its owner having trod On the banana peel Most of us were expecting. See him come farting out of the gate, An imitation of a cartoon criminal, White-booted and sticky-fingered, Yet with a mouth full Of malformed intention. A buffoonery that has wielded Improper powers, And would foist them nationally, Clownishly or no. Now comes the background noise: Weirded advertisements too easily ignored, Or mocked by the clever, But appealing to the low-purposed. A replacement for an idol tarnished, Now too defamed for surety of triumph. Now comes the low buzz irritating, A cheap barrage of listless clamor, Ignored but heard anyway, A cacophony from a distance, All sour note and garish blare. Here then is the snare: A veneer of burlesque and caricature, And beneath: vileness and cruelty Proposed as vir

  On Sale Now: GOP   Not getting enough love for your firearms collection? Bible verses sounding stale? Not getting your fill of Russian propaganda? Then you need to try: REPUBLICAN TALKING POINTS! That’s right! Today’s Republican Talking Points Aren’t just your grandfathers bigotry and misogyny, no! Why, there’s an ever-expanding library of ALL NEW Batshit crazy theories and outright lies TAILORED JUST FOR YOU!! Try these on: Democrats are coming for your stock brokers! Zelensky is addicted to Chinese drag queens! Donald Trump can turn water into AR15’s! All of these and so many more Are available to YOU At the low, low cost Of any sort of reason, logic, or common sense. Just think of what you could do Simply by believing That Kevin McCarthy Has your best interests in mind And isn’t beholden To the worst that America has to offer! America, it’s time to stop thinking of others And start stocking up on ammunition Because what’s a

  An Open Letter to Kevin McCarthy   Listen kid, I’m not going to ask you What you sold to gain that gavel, Because my concern is not what, But whom. We know. You may not know we know, But we know. And it was us, Speaker, It was us. Now you’re in a fight For the soul of this country, And just because you have sold yours, You can’t have ours. We won’t allow it. You know how it took 15 votes To get that hammer? It’s going to take us one To take it away, And kick your ass to the curb. See, you are not applying A principle central to your life To your current predicament. A principle that is going to decide your future Right now. See, there is one area In a person’s memory That can go long and long: Did ya mess with the money? Did ya short the pocketbook? Did ya empty the belly? And when the answer To those questions comes up “yes”, The answer to a House GOP Is going to be “NO.” So kid, Kevin, You going to deal?

  Sunday, Sunday, Sunday   It is Sunday, And the worshippers gather outside, To fellowship with one another, And make plans to meet later, At the shooting range, To pop off a few rounds for Jesus. Cordite and Christ – a merc made in Heaven.   It is Sunday, And the Christians discuss morality, For where two or more are gathered, There he is also, But not any fucking queers, Or godless trans, Even if they are their neighbors.   It is Sunday, And the faithful bathe in the Holy Spirit, That allows them to revile Anyone that sounds funny Or has different skin Because who the fuck are they anyway, And who cares what their papers say?   It is Sunday, And the loyal put their hats back on, Crimson in the sunlight, For they have chosen a new god, Who lets them sin out in the open, Just as they always intended, And you’re gonna like it – Or get the fuck out of the way.   Cliff Lake 5/21/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

Caution – Cliff Ahead   I visited a town Close upon a swamp Overlooked by a low cliff That had been avoided For the danger it did present. Some time had passed Many years since anyone was lost And the hazard became a rumor And a tale to frighten children with. Now a manager was named among them To bring the town prosperity And he would expand the town In all directions on the map. But he was unacquainted With lands beyond his borders And I tried to tell him There were things that he could learn. But he spoke back at me With a voice laden with scorn That he was of high station And therefore knew more than me. I tried then to remind him That I had passed through other lands And had seen things along my way. I pointed to a sign that he didn’t read, Because he had been told the sign was written By people trying to take from him Things he did not own. He was so angered By this potential loss of value, He forbade the entire town

  A Farewell to Harms   To the House GOP: How are you going to explain All the investigations Into ordinary activities People performed as part of their jobs That you can’t make illegal No matter how loudly you talk No matter how many informants disappear Into the smoke they were made of? How are you going to justify The millions spent To prove all the things We already knew That you can’t stand To have exposed all over again That you want to mean something other Than what we clearly understood The first time you tried to bury them? How many diversions Will we have to endure While you sputter and twist Into ever tightening circles Of convoluted misstatements That mean less than you want And unmask you too clearly? And now you have reached the point Where your lies Are even stupider than you are As you invent phantom situations That no one believes And maybe less even care about Because they’re worried About the bread a

  Behind the Sun   I feel it sometimes. Vast it is, Wearing it’s cold as a cloak, The shroud behind the Sun. An abrogation of the glare we live in, It’s voice is an echo of empty, Loud, clear, unheard and still heeded, It sings of unharmony. It is unspeakably lonely, If it has life at all, Or is merely the imitation Of an existence That never was. Its longing is the ache for affirmation Its size alone should answer for that. Still, it reaches for me Under my dreams Or in the unexpected moment Between the TV ads. Then the sonorous whisper reverberates, A calling from a deep I dare not imagine. In those moments I feel eons Trembling at their meaning And seeking always more. How is it so nameless, Why is it so familiar? How am I to deal With the shroud behind the Sun? I dare not. I must. Somehow. Somehow I must.   Cliff Lake 5/18/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

  Freedom Triggers (Song for a Redhead)  Down in Florida Good old Ronnie DeSantis, Has proved to be an annoying louse. Doing his level best to supplant us, Letting the worst miscreants into the House. But wardens of Walt say, “Who are you to grant us?” “Come on heffalump, let’s see you defeat the Mouse!”   When Bud Lite is culturally illegal, When Target opens its doors to all, When Miller is bagging up your shit, Where can you go? What can you do? Disneyworld is still open, And welcomes even you. Disneyworld is still open, And red is part of the rainbow hue.   Which books to ban, you tell Nike to shoo, And when the NFL takes a stand, that’s too much for you. And entertainment shows you try to drag, ‘Cause they somehow groom your crew, I get it, that’s just not your bag, But now that you’ve thrown Nascar away, what’s left for you to do?   When Bud Lite is culturally illegal, When Target opens its doors to all, When Miller is baggi

  The High Ones   Grinning ghouls that perch High atop Manhattan avenues. Pinching young bottoms paid for. Looking down from sheltered balcony, Looking down on you. Expanding waistbands, Pockmarks stretched, Livers corroding, Bank accounts untapped, Looking for more from you. Coiffures the size of your paycheck, Autos that could cost you your house, Clothing worn once and cast away, Vacations you’ll never see, Keeping it away from you. Officials selling your freedoms, Lapping up crumbs as allowed, Watching the blood of children dry, As they discard soldiers come home, With never a thought of you. Monsters created from your sweat, Collecting well more than their due. Nepo-babies and outright thieves Feeding as parasites from their towers, And looking down on you.   Cliff Lake 5/17/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

A Tail   Once there was a puppy. No one gave it a name and so its name was nothing. The puppy had no home so it was chased away. The puppy had no bed so it slept where it was not wanted. The puppy had no food so it ate what it was not given. The puppy cried from loneliness to shut doors. The puppy followed children who ran in fear of its dirt and deprivation The puppy died. Cliff Lake 5/13/2021 Copyright (C) Clifford Lake 2021

  Dawnshine   It’s been a long time in this dark people, Dark with the lies that we’ve been fed. Too many real freedoms taken, Too much innocent blood shed. Lies propagated for rich to continue, To slaughter the sheep they have led. But all nights have their endings, And I can see the light clearly ahead.   We’ve been working hard,   But there’s so much left to do. Time to raise up the downtrodden, It’s for us to break through! The one who doesn’t need it, Wants to take it all from you. But the dawn is breaking, And it’s breaking blue.   Now the nighted creatures Will tell you the dark is really light, To keep us all in the gloom, They revel in this plunder and blight. They divert our attention with circuses, To keep the uneducated unaware of their plight, But dawn approaches implacably, And the end of darkness is in our sight.   We’ve been working hard,   But there’s so much left to do. Time to raise up the downtrodden, I

  9 Out of 10   We’re missing 9 out of 10, And we’ll say it again, 9 out of 10 That never had a when, 9 out of 10 never having been, 9 out of ten have gone missing friend, It’s a great big mystery That no one is believing me… Oh no! I’ve lost them again…   When desperation quails ya, Ya gotta make a new plan. When the old lies fails ya, Try a new one on your clan. When the truth always trails ya, Try saying this deadpan: “We don’t know what happened, 9 out of 10 will understand…”   We’re missing 9 out of 10, And we’ll say it again, 9 out of 10 That never had a when, 9 out of 10 never having been, 9 out of ten have gone missing friend, It’s a great big mystery That no one is believing me… Oh no! I’ve lost them again…   Now you get you on your TV, And try not to say what you say. Make it all sound easy, To make the newsmen go away. You may come off as cheesy, But that’s the game that you play. I’ll give you 9 o

  Netted   The web was slowly spun Across decades. They slipped into it comfortably. A resting place to ensnare, And caught themselves: The lies that bind. Spoon-fed to the membership, Absorbed by the governance, No longer can either extricate, Should they want to, Should they need to: The lies entwined. Now all their heed is paid To deceptions they fashioned For profit and power Now supported by cheaper deceits They cannot abandon: The lies that grind. Too wrapped now In the net of their own make, They spin ever more inept, Gyrating wildly in their tangle, Seeing no way out: The lies that blind. Still they weave Toiling at the labyrinth Hoping to catch any Besides themselves Convinced they are not caught: The lies outlined. There they hang now, Meshed by their own frauds, Snarled in their artifice Relegated to continue Because they may have nothing else: The lies that bind.   Cliff Lake 5/12/2023 Copyright

Eggs, Faces, and Cable News   Cable News Network, soiling itself in public view. Opting for filthy lucre, a decision you may rue. Are you so desperate to be the subject of narration, That you willingly sacrifice your objective obligation? An audience culled from the worst of a demented crafter, To hear a woman again defamed and they erupt in laughter. A moderator made to endure the indictee’s scorn, Thanks CNN, 2016 reborn. Chris Licht, your response to critique sounds of the narcissist, Keep on “creating news” and you’ll find yourself finished. So, you got 3 million views, something less than expected. Millions more tuned elsewhere, your shitshow was rejected. You think you’re going to pull in the former viewers from the fox? Far more likely you’ll end up doing nothing more than playing with your… selves. Chris and CNN you may survive this faceplant, But with you right now kiddos… Man, I just can’t.   Cliff Lake 5/11/2023 Copyright © Clifford

  Creeping Things   You creeping things, Writhing and slinking From beneath some swamped scree, Infesting hallowed gallery, And covering the shames of all like you - The darkness is failing. No longer are your deeds clouded and veiled; Dawn has come. It is too late to hide back beneath the fetid rubble, You chose to enter the public frame, Thinking you could confuse and obscure As your lies bent back upon themselves, Now the knots they tie bind you to your fate. Still you seek the spotlight, Though it mean you need confess 1, 2, 7 sins, In hopes that the 8 th , 9 th , 20 th remain undiscovered, Or at least shrouded until they are either forgotten, Or settled in a back room sour with unclean pact. Know this: Behind you was ever a trail of slime, Old yes, cold surely, but not gone, Not gone. The miseries you have caused, The monies you have collected, Or simply stolen outright, The broken promises, The bridges burned, And the liv

  The Joker Takes a Deuce   The Joker couldn’t get a draw, the deck was getting colder, He’d lost this hand even though he’d split, and the Jack was at his shoulder. The Joker still had some games to play, but his bets were looking grim, His chips were scattered far too wide, he needed another pot to skim.   The Joker tried to hide some cards, he’d tried to play a fade, But the cards were the ones he’d dealt; he had to play them as they laid. The Joker was stuck at the table, soon he would see the Jack’s face, He’d thought he was a high card, but he was just a Joker, never been an ace.   The Joker wanted to lay off, but his credit was too low, No bankers would now touch him, it was time for him to show. The Joker could feel the eyes upon him, his neck was in a noose, The call was made, and when his cards were laid, the Joker dropped a deuce.   The Joker had tried to beat the house, but he couldn’t match the pot, The hands were drawn already, and the

  The Defense of Violence   See them! They do obeisance At the altar of bloodshed. How they long For the hot spatter red. A lust is in them, Slaked only with gore, Mangled by their hand. POW! POW!! POW!!! POW!!!! That is their song. POW! POW!! POW!!! POW!!!! See the flailing flesh! POW! POW!! POW!!! POW!!!! They caress the machine, That can provide them With so many endings. “I require self-defense!” They can’t wait to unleash it. “It’s mental illness!” Dive right in, friend. “In case of tyranny!” We are already hostaged To the NRA. These worshippers of carnage Have us wading through their maimings For they will suckle At a teat of blood. Their affections are measured In long mags and cordite, Their only use for life, Is how much of it They can take. Their love of death Is loudly proclaimed. But they too Cannot avoid its touch. And that may save a few lives.   Cliff Lake 5/7/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake

  The Death Traders   Red is their color, Crimson and glistening, Faintly foul, It sticks to them, It stains the thought.   Their emotions metallic, Grating and grinding, Unyielding and brittle, With shuttered gaze, And beliefs of rust.   Their agents loiter, Collecting wage Wet with blood, Reeking of shame, They will not concede.   They foster dread, Feeding it malice And ill intent, Creating specters That cannot be vanquished.   Fear is their coin, And manna For their masses, An addiction served, To make life seem worthy.   Violence the reward, Whether fantasized, Or realized, The craving encouraged, And draped in glamour.   These are the death traders, Red is their color. Hands offering filthy profit, These are the monsters, And they look like us.   Cliff Lake 5/7/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023            

  Softly   Why do you claim to be alone? Life surrounds, though you feel it beneath your notice, Or your concern. Small lives hurrying, Doing as they must, Doing as they can. But these things abide, Despite all our efforts, Or our consideration. So go softly, Have a care as to what you disrupt, And what inconvenience you may suffer, That another may have their peace. You are given but a moment to breathe, And you can’t know how much time tomorrow brings, But you’ve got some time today. Do your best as you can, And help those that have their struggles. Though their lives be measured in mere days or weeks, They have their purpose, And their place. Too long have we made our own comforts, Requiring other lives to sacrifice theirs, Only to find That the grand scheme cares little for our greed, And will make correction as needed, In spite of us, Because of us. So go softly, There are larger themes at play, And we are but a whisp

  Corruption Blues   There was this rich old Djinni, Supremely she would court, Wrong guys and other ties, Freeing money for her cohorts. Not too interested in justice, As long as money flowed, Now she and hubs are bustus, Soon they will eat crow.   Mrs. Corruption, Watch out for the Cleaning Crew, Mrs. Corruption, They’re coming after you. Time’s up, Mrs. Corruption, It’s time to pay your dues, They see you Mrs. Corruption, And the Cleaning Crew wears blue.   In Palm Beach there’s a squid, He was told to comply. Looks like images he hid, From the federal bureau’s eye. Was he there on moving day, Did he try the Feds to cross? Looks like he’s gonna have his say, Calamari’s in hot sauce.   Mr. Corruption, Watch out for the Cleaning Crew, Mr. Corruption, They’re coming after you. Time’s up, Mr. Corruption It’s time to pay your dues, They see you Mr. Corruption, And the Cleaning Crew wears blue.   The DA is scrutin

Outrage Fix   Outrage is addictive. You crave it now. An emotional jolt To make you feel alive again. A nonsense to boil your bile. Look there! A product offends! They made it smell wrong! The color is against your beliefs! The spokesperson glanced to the left! That company dared. Quick! Buy some and throw bullets at it! There, that corporation has learned… Something… Soon, a celebrity will say words. You do not want their comfort, You want merch to destroy. You want something to break apart. You want to pretend it’s a lib. You want to get your dick hard. You want to soak your panties. And this is the only way you have left. Outrage is addictive. It is also blind. Please open your eyes. Please…   Cliff Lake 5/4/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

  It’s the Guns   Remember that Uvalde appall, How long it took to answer the call. Why couldn’t they some deaths forestall? Why were they cowered in the hall? It was the gun, It was the gun, It was the gun.   A year later in 2023, Some want even more open carry, They think it’s the 2A that’s set them free, We still endure the U.S. killing spree. ‘Cause it’s the guns, It’s the guns, It’s the guns.   What is it that owns the GOP soul? Why are we under NRA control? Why do we sink further into this black hole? It’s the guns, It’s the guns, It’s the guns.   If you got a minor spat Don’t think twice, just grab a gat. It’s where Bobo hangs her hat, It’s why some accounts are so fat.   In the dark of night on a Texas lawn, An AR15 rages on, Minutes later 5 lives are gone, An 8-year-old sees her last dawn. It was the gun, It was the gun, It was the gun.   What is it that owns the GOP soul? Why are we under NRA contro

  The Infinite Alone   We make our noises on this blue ball, Heard only by ourselves. The great silence surrounds. How are we alone? Why are we alone?   What malevolence writhes between the stars forgotten? What negation waits infinitely? What absence of creation abides?   Energies of galactic magnitude collide, Coalesce, Combine… Unknown forces unleash.   Thus it gains entry, It is consumption, And no more than that.   Predation requires but one impetus: Survival. What survives in the blank places outside galaxies? Do you know? Can you know?   Have you heard from the stars? Have you not wondered at the great silence? We have called out. We get no answer.   What cultures may have been? What empires lost? Were they also alone?   What nullity awaits? Will certain alignments allow it? How would we know? How could we know?   What rests in the wide places between stars? When we find out, Will it be too lat