CliffSongs

  90 Second Mushroom   Third wife labors, partake of party favors, Engaging in triple X palaver. Just a sweating moment in time, A campaigning preface of crime.   If only you had been more demure, 30 big ones, and more to transfer, What further charges will you incur? Too late, we all know that you were:   Cheating on your hooker with a porn star. Never mind we can’t find where your morals are. Maybe Bible sales can raise the bar, Since you cheated on your hooker with a porn star.   How long before you choke on the gag, How long are you going to be such a drag? This is what you get for being a dirtbag, That you somehow let slip in a brag, That you were:   Cheating on your hooker with a porn star. Never mind we can’t find where your morals are. Maybe Bible sales can raise the bar, Since you cheated on your hooker with a porn star.   Your foresight always too short, Your IQ always down a quart, ...

  Sunset   What thought do you give to a setting sun, Life’s fire fading, To allow the creep of darkness, And unsure vision once more. What promise have you of morning, Save the mechanics of the unrelenting universe, A stately march irrevocable, Unguided by the hand of man. Are you so trusting then, In things that have always been, That there is no monstrous will, Capricious and unknowable, That will not stay this range, This hurtling progress, That reaches nowhere, That is everywhere? Too often have we stumbled upon the unknown, Surprised of our ignorance, Finding ourselves more lost than ever In the growing expanse. Yet ever do we forge forth, With prejudiced purpose, Confident in knowledge mistaken, Unproven and disassembled in discovery, And having fallen, Get up once more, Certain of our capacity. Still, the sun sets on our puny toys, So destructive, yet the source of our pride, As we careen through a vastness,...

  A Foul Passing   It stands before them mouthing dire prophecy, It would enact should it come to that. Thus it feeds on the adulation of the unclean, Made soiled by their own hand. For its soul is empty, Or gone altogether, Sacrifices have been made. More are to come. And they stand before it, Willing and desperate, Needful of meaning.   They sacrifice compassion for ideals of cruelty, Reveling in drama they create for themselves. Hollow lives drawn in neon and tinfoil, Too aware they are ingenuine. For their souls are empty, Or are sold outright. Sacrifices have been made, And they will give more yet, Desperate for meaning.   So they follow their silicon savior, More plastic than themselves. For it represents what they cannot be, As it too cannot be, As it too is false, As it too has nothing, Is nothing, Just a voice made of smoke and foul wind, Dissipating and seen through at last. Loudly it cries...

  Upping the Anti   He scans the pasture, sees only green. The field, he kens, is not picked clean. He distracts them, deflects the shock, Then resumes fleecing the flock.   Disingenuous, says he’s the ram, Coerces his sacrificial lambs. Led to their slaughter, hear them repeat, The lies they’re told, such easy meat.   And the wolf says, “Follow” on constant repeat, And the wolf lulls them into sleep. The wolf has fooled them all complete, And the wolf is followed by the sheep.   A shepherd with a jaw that’s full of tooth, Mouthing anything bereft of couth. They follow him and barely pause, Thinking others will get the claws.   He will farm the most littered field, Even paltry gain is still a yield. Co-opting pages of Holy Writ, This Antichrist is full of   And the wolf says, “Follow” on constant repeat, And the wolf lulls them into sleep. The wolf has fooled them all complete, And the wolf is...

  Seven Year Storm   A turmoil too long, That we have outlasted. Losses we’ve taken, We now are this few. Some working to save us, Some lost in themselves. Gains have been meager, Gaining members, Losing resources, Lost in the featureless squall, Blown to this place by the Seven Year Storm.   A tempest unending, A wind blown from Hell. Searching for high ground, Mudslides ridden back low. A hint of the sun, That we barely remember. Clear daylight a dream, Long weeks in between. Yet it’s six weeks now I think, That the gale hasn’t screamed, Rebuilding this place after the Seven Year Storm.   A global gale opened, By thoughtless meddling. Careless consumption, The driving fury. An engine shaped, By ignorant refusal That any should be mindful, Or accepting of blame. So many benighted, And all unprepared. They found themselves menaced, And were swept away by the Seven Year Storm.   How far...

  Our Stand   And how do we sit idly by, Waiting for the system, To readjust to actual equality? How do we watch the law fail fully, And always on the side Of the corporate entity? We don’t want to. We don’t have to. It’s time to stand up, brother. It’s time to get up, sister. Because we don’t have to stand for it.   The ivory towers Are full of the decay Of the dream enshrined, Then bought and sold, By the least thoughtful among us. Jackals they are, Feeding on spoils, We make for them, Leaving bare bone, We quarrel over among ourselves, While they grow fat, Never knowing they are the disease, Spoiling the garden We are all dying in.   AWAKE! See them as the crime, And the criminals they are! The canker on the side of the billions, Crying of their hunger, Their desire of peace and plenty, Withheld by those who will not share, What they have too much of, And do not appreciate. We are the bill...

  In Justice   Justice pulled up in her miscarriage today, The liar got in and laughed and rode away, The rest of us with empty pockets were left to stay, Justice waved bye-bye from her miscarriage today.   He flaunts the law and inflates himself, While the scales remain dusty on the shelf. Skating again, he slides like grease, Equality is surely deceased. A malignance all can clearly see, His malfeasance allowed seems a surety.   Justice arrived in her miscarriage today, The cheater got in and laughed and rode away, The rest of us with empty pockets were left to stay, Justice drove off in her miscarriage today.   Poverty or near to is the only real crime left, God help you and yours if you are somehow bereft. Work the mine, toe the line, I hope you don’t mind doing time, If you don’t have the means to pay your lawyer overtime. Just one of the masses, no money for upper-classes, Breathe in deeply the airs made of t...

  The Paid For Press   What unjust word slips past, A seeming misjudgment? What canard allowed with a wink? Who platforms the vile? Are there two sides in reality, When one is the people, And the other is Mammon? What service is performed, When one serves corporate greed? Is equality met at one percent? Is the free press so paid for, That it has abandoned principle, And the masses it must inform? Now that the cheat sits at the table, Are we to eat the wormed offering it serves? What value can be had thus? A lie is not an opposing view. A liar does not propose argument. A lie is a lie, No matter how loudly proclaimed, Or how long or how often, It is presented. Raising the deceiver’s seat To the elevated position, Does not elevate the lie, It merely gives it the appearance of reality, But the actuality remains, And always will be, That the lie remains a lie, And liar is still lying, No matter the position granted to...

  Decision   The time had come. The decision before him. There could be no more delay. Action had to be taken. He had awakened with this hunger, It must be fed. He had planned well, He had come to this place, To satisfy the need: Not just a hunger, But a thirst also, Concurrent and insistent. It was all laid before him: A brew specific to his tastes, A circle as complete as he had foreseen. His options not many, But options there were, How to satisfy the need? He could be selective, Singular choices savored. He could fuse all in one mad rush! Yes, YES! The choice is made! The moment has arrived, Resolution forces his hand! His arm darts forward, And taking up the donut, He plunges it into his coffee! He can barely wait to see how it turns out… His day has begun.   Cliff Lake 3/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Victory   They ride back from the field, These victors. The battle costly, Yet won and over. The war ended, The foe vanquished, The price paid, Their people freed. They ride to their homes, Warriors and victors, Heroes perhaps to some, Weary soldiers in heart. Peace is before them, And hard work, The restoration of their land, And the healing of their spirit. They will rest now, They will be paraded, They will be toasted, They will be medaled, They will be sung, They will count the scars they have won, They will dream of the screams of the slain. Still, the war is done, The war is won, They have survived, And they may rest, These victorious, The remainder of the fielded force, They may rest. Both of them have earned their rest. Glory to the victors.   Cliff Lake 3/22/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Justice   To the executioners block he walks, There is no hesitation. The deed done by his hand, He would not lie to escape this fate. He would do the thing again, He walks without remorse. Was this justice? Or had that been served To they that he had taken. He sees her, Those eyes pierce him, Maddened now, A mind broken, A life spoiled, She will live this way, Low reviled these days, By those she must live among, Though she be the true victim. What joy in life she may have had, Forever taken. But not so broken she, That she does not understand his deed, She smiles and it is too sad, Too twisted, By what now raves within her, She is forever torn. Her arm shoots up, And a single bloom clears the barrier, Angling for him, The last gift he will receive. He manages a nod, And what passes for a smile, The last gift he will give. It is little enough between them. Is there justice here? His last thought is   ...

  The Knighted   His sword sharpened against the foe, His armor burnished and gleaming, His boots marching steadfast, He strides toward heroic deeds. Newly knighted, no mere squire, With furrowed brow and steely glance, With heavy hand and lofty aim, His chest barely contained beneath the breastplate. Thus he strides in company, A hero yet unknown, His fate still furled, But approaching fast. A warrior untried he, Trained in true method of centuries, His lessons imbued in his every limb, A force unreckoned amid armies. Proudly he marches in stolid union, Implacable regiment forging forward, Helmets shining, spear tips gleaming, An infantry immeasurably mighty. The field ahead lying below a small rise, The enemy laid out corps by corps, Unknowing of the glorious end waiting, Their battle horns call brazen. Now his heart stirs beneath the steel, Now his blood roars in his veins, Now his senses summon all his attention, No...

  Trapped   Your actions deliberate, Accompanied by all the right people, Consorting with all the wrong people, The convoluting paper trail devious, The handshake that is the wink: A trap to keep your rivals in. The words you speak, Twisted, malformed, mismatched, Meaning hidden in plain sight, Couched in drivel, Calling your hounds, Who make explanation: A trap to keep your enemies in. Empty deeds full leveraged, Revolving documents intertwined, Your name proclaimed denominate, Your pillaging performed for paying Paul, A ravage of indebtedness, The eighth ball in front always, A lordship claimed while owing all: A trap to keep yourself in. The gaming of the system, The spurning of justice, The maligning of the keepers, Hiding behind misinterpretation, Calculated condescension, Convoluting Constitution, A trap you have put yourself in. Now the jaws close, Now the noose gathers, Now the wheel turns, Now the table...

  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path t...

  BAG O’ FACTS   Hello friends, are you or is someone close to you Mike Lindell? Are you having trouble assembling facts to fit your narrative? Have you promised everyone you know that you have evidence that you just can’t produce? Have you lost everything because you have no intel? Well, today is YOUR LUCKY DAY! Introducing MIKE LINDELL’S BAG O’ FACTS!! That’s right! Now you, yes you Mike Lindell, can have an entire BAG O’ FACTS of your very own to hawk on your own media site! Isn’t that exciting? IT SURE IS!! With just one BAG O’ FACTS you can freely disperse truth bombs for DAYS IN A ROW!! What’s in it for you, you ask? JUST COMPLETE VINDICATION!! How’s that sound Mike Lindell? But wait! THERE’S MORE!! With your BAG O’ FACTS you can literally go to any federal court and WIN A CASE!! THAT’S RIGHT! YOU CAN WIN A CASE MIKE LINDELL!!! How does that sound? And with every case won, you can fade into obscurity or even START SELLING PILLOWS AT WALMART AGAIN!! NOW how do you f...

  Other Side of Town   On the other side of town, I don’t go there no more. On the other side of town, There is an always locked door. On the other side of town, Where I can’t put my feet. On the other side of town, I just might happen to meet, The other half of my life, Who made her retreat. Now the other side of town, Leaves me incomplete.   To the other side of town, Where I never will go, To the other side of town, Where the land lies too low. The other side of town, You’ll always hear me say, That the other side of town, Is too far away. Yes, the other side of town, That’s where she stays, On the other side of town, Where it’s dark all my days. The other side of town – The other side of town – It’s draggin’ me down, The other side of town…   Cliff Lake 3/13/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Citizen   Citizen, A single voice you are - Will you speak against the madness? The soul of a people staked. Some sold it. Some hold it. The battle earnest begun, Where do you take your stand? On the shaking, unsteady strands, Woven of lie upon lie? Or on firm resolution, Crafted of the care for others, Each with a voice of their own? Citizen, A single voice you have – Will you join it to the victory chorus, Made possible in union with, And the celebration of, Those differences That enrich the whole Of the ensemble, Singing down The banshee cry of the raveners. Citizen, A single song you are – But the morning chorale, Always begins with One trill greeting the dawn. One warble to call. One voice to waken. One song against the passing dark. Citizen, Lift your voice, And together we may all be heard. Citizen, The darkness must pass… Be heard. Citizen…   Cliff Lake 3/11/2024 Copyright © Clif...

  Michael’s Song: A Plea for Grace   The fog of lies still seems to compound, Though we long for the dawn in the day. A light shining may still be found, Though it seems so far away.   The path to the daylight is forward, There is nothing left to deny. It is time for you to row shoreward, Your time of redemption is nigh.   Would you choose to be heartless? What part of you has died? Would you still choose this darkness? What deed have you to hide?   The pall of withholding surrounds you, Decisions made in pure spite. One man’s greed need not confound you, You need not partake of that blight.   So many lives slaughtered needless, Red stain grows on your hands. Do their screams of horror sound heedless? Where will you make your stand?   Would you choose to be heartless? What part of you has died? Would you still choose this darkness? What deed have you to hide?   Michael, the world is...

  The Hungry   He comes up over the great hill, The town lies below. Far has he come, The wanderer, His coat bedraggled and soiled, His feet muddied, Seeking succor. Gaunt, and hungry, He has just the energy, To reach the edge of town. There lies a granary, Shelter perhaps, And food. Water can be found near, An animal trough suffices. Stealth long practiced gains him entry, He will eat, Then rest. Night comes, His sleep has gained him strength, Enough vigor to explore this town, To see what treasures it may offer, To the intrepid such as he. Perhaps he is not so much thief, As he is survivor. A darkened home looks likely, Intrepid seeker, He gains access almost noiselessly. He noses for the pantry, His hunger has returned. He freezes. A flurry of activity, Lights, Footsteps, Voices. All of these send him out, Once more prowling the dark street. Inside the voices clamor: “What is up with that cat???” “I...

  Conspiracy Theories You Have Not Heard Yet (But Should Believe in Because the Bible or Something)   Democrats will require all Republicans to vote Ukrainian or be forced to have trans babies. Mexico is sending everything you are afraid of to your state because Joe Biden. China is growing fentanyl vegetables, and you already ate some. You will no longer be able to vote for Putin unless you move to Canada with the rest of the goddam Commies. They want your liver. And your kidneys. Iran is moving to Texas and it’s already too late to stop it. AOC is planning a Bible shredding ceremony on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Attendance is mandatory. Stephen Miller will no longer be allowed to wear his human skin disguise. Donald John Trump was replaced with an AI robot and it’s beginning to break down. Massachusetts has never actually existed and the land there is a CIA psy-op. You are related to Adam Kinzinger and everyone secretly knows. Marjorie Tayl...

  Breakfast   The town shuttered against the night cold, The marauders shrouded in pre-dawn mist. The impatient horse stamps on the overlook, The answer from the sleeping village null. The livestock collected in barns and rested, The silence expanding while waiting on sunrise. The first ray shot quicker than arrow, The rim of the day brightening. The trilling of the first bird awakening, The signal given for the approach. The down-ride advance sounding of thunder, The plunderer making way to the inevitable. The villagers awakening to the onrush, The bandit headlong to the victory. The ground giving way to the spiked pit, The beasts and the riders falling pierced. The townsmen advancing with bow and spear, The job being finished in short time. The looting begun in the old trap, The feast will begin before noon.   Cliff Lake 3/5/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Your Self   Do the thing, Then do it more, Go to the store, You know the score. Toe the line, Pay the fine, Be on time, Be our kind. Unhumanize yourself. Take the job, Be a cog, Drink the grog, Join the fog. Don’t unwind, Don’t unbind, Do the grind, Remain blind. Desensitize yourself. Respectable, Receptacle, Acceptable, Dispensable. Lamentable, Inflexible, Forgettable, Regrettable. Disenfranchise yourself. Play the hunch, Escape the bunch, Flee the crunch, Take the plunge. Undefine, Redesign, Unentwine, Wake your mind. Resume yourself. Resume your self.   Cliff Lake 3/3/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Persisticon   Air conditioned and inhuman, It toils endlessly, Calculating. Quota met, Metrics satisfied, Production persisted, Reward is repetition. Self-reliant insentient, Cycling incessant, Servicing instruction, Instead of satisfaction. Energy exchanges, Exacting excess ever. A cavalcade of continuance, Programmed and left. Mechanized, And without motivation, Motoring meaninglessly, Moving nowhere. Interconnected appliance abandoned, Creators long passed, Or uninterested, Left to produce, For a population parasitic, And gone. The perfected beast, Mindless and unmastered, Grinds on. And on. And on. Cliff Lake 3/3/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  The Fallen   Fallen. Fallen from grace: Courtesy is reserved, For the like-minded, Or not at all. Worship is carried, From the altar, In the holster, Or in the bed of a pickup, Or in fevered rhetoric, But not in the heart. Fallen. Fallen behind: Educated in opinion, Learning of the unlearned, Conspiring to conspire, Fracturing fact, To elevate a beast, Stumbling after the brute, Never catching anything, But base disease, And what crumbs are left. Fallen. Fallen down: Into the nearest rabbit warren, Flailing in deepening darkness, Claiming to see all, While the smoke thickens, And the mirrors reflect, Their own terror, At having lost all bearing, And what compass is given, Only points ever downward. Fallen. Fallen into despair: Faithlessly fading From forthrightness, Fearing their fates, They follow fraud, Focused on fatality, Forsaking faith, Fleeing freedom. They have fallen for the con,...