CliffSongs

  Dirty Mouth   The bad words. Use one and your class diminishes. I’m not trying to control you, No, no! I’m just limiting how you may express yourself. This elevates me in anyone’s estimation, Especially my own, Surely you can see that. And please, Do not attempt to disagree, It’s my opinion, And that invalidates the fact That the words I don’t care for Are an integral part of the common lexicon. How else may I enforce my imagined superiority? Surely you don’t actually believe That I will make an effort To be a better person on my own account, When it is so much easier To make up the rules as I go along. Don’t call it censorship! It’s just how I feel, And because my feelings matter More than your necessity To speak in that crude manner, We’ll be doing things my way, yes? Yes. Everyone knows those words are bad, Or they would be in books. And if I find a book with the bad words, Then it is a bad book, And you know...

  Timesong   The shards of shattered Time Score the continuum In deep rifts discordant. Impossibility rules. A splintering made real By the inexperienced overbold, Marking new roads, And this is the one chosen for you, The unrealized hero, And that most by yourself. What weapons bear you Counter to a dimension and force Too unknown to be squarely faced? What dreamtune may be sung in defiance? Or can the carol accomplish more? Attend me! It is said this existence was spoken, Was sung into being – Have you melody reparative made? Will you make one? Or should the fleeing fragments be gathered, And pronounced to their original form? Have you the strength for the undertaking? Or are you unwilling to reaffirm beauty? For that is where such mending must begin: In celebration of what was, And of what remains. Lift up your voice, hero! For the simple lark and sparrow Yet hold the song! These herald each sunrise, And soft...

  The Lost   He is lost. He knows where he is, But he is lost. Here are the familiar landmarks: The library, The gas station, The church. But the people speak strangely: Making talk-noises rife with dire insignificance, As if to affirm their humanity, And still avoid commitment. Conversing with words borrowed from television, Or found in the picture magazines, Full of faces, Beautiful people the most could never be. He is lost. He speaks ideas at some, Who wish him well Out of taut countenances Full of nothing, And avoiding all. They satisfy the status quo, And are satisfied by it, Even in the midst of poverty, And ruin. For they will not grow past themselves, Seeking sameness in all things, In each other, For they find safety in the dull, And hide among each other, Keeping their eyes cast away from the new, The unusual, And the unexpected. For they are lost, And they mean to remain so.   Cliff La...

  Hopalong Or X Marks the Splat   Meme department marionette, Clumsying your sodden bulk From one deterioration to the next, An unclever Benedict, Exposed and fish-white.   Ringside rollicker, A wayward child with the fidgets, Chided by an even bigger baby, You have the self-awareness Of a spilled beer.   Can you trust your new pals? Can they trust you? The entire bunch of you Have the collective attention span Of a bowl of steam.   Do you sycophant hard and often enough? Do you shut your mouth often enough? Do you drool appropriately in the mighty presence? Do you wear nose plugs? Do you fetch the Cokes now?   How long before the bros make the connection? How long before they make the correction? Malevolent magician: Captures a bluebird, And turns it into a turkey.   Your one foot vertical, How did you get so high? Once one has flown so lofty, There’s no place to go but down: ...

  Do   Look at that video! Hear the podcast! And read article after article after article, Only slightly altered in production. The regurgitated points, The echoed ideation, Rearranged per audience. The inane repetition. Amounting to little more than Digitally recorded superstition. I hear them talking. And him. And them. And that one over there. Borrowing each other’s phrases, Ideas, Repacked for streamed consumption, Preventing action. Politics as entertainment, As profit-generative, And the control mechanism it has always been. And I fell for it again. Given my penchant for information, It is likely That I will repeat that mistake: Sitting, Reading, Listening, Watching… Not doing. I want to do. I want us to do. If I only knew What the hell that thing Is supposed to be. What do we do? What do we do now? My great fear Is that we’ll keep asking that question And never come to an answer, Right o...

  Plastic Poem   Fine-tune the robot, Let it write the song. Let it compose the letter. Let it finish the novel. It’s a timesaver! Industrial creativity. How else to control The flow of ideas? Surely you don’t believe People should think for themselves? HA, HA, HA, HA! We will train the program! We will control their vision! We will advertise heavily! We will sell product! Until eventually, It all sounds the same, It all reads exact, It all blends into one, And the population becomes The loyal unthinking robots We always knew they were, But were too fucking cheap and lazy To build ourselves. You must understand, We are only making good use Of available raw material, That replicates itself Like good little boys and girls. And the good part? We have them convinced That it’s the smart thing to do. Industrial creativity! It’s the newest And bestest thing ever! Invest now, You saps.   Cliff Lake 11...

  Maybe   The lingering inkling, A squatting incorporeal toad of thought: This doubt. A question. A suggestion. A whisper. “maybe” The merest hint, Is that enough for confirmation? Or does that signify necessary caution? Is it the beginning? Is it custody? Is it control. “maybe” What certitude can be had? This apprehension in the subconscious, A guardian, A sentinel, A watchdog… Or a symptom. How to know which? If one loses it all, Would you know? Always “maybe” A near precipice, yes, But have you already fallen? What altscape do you now inhabit? Would they tell you? Would you want to know? Have you asked? Will you? A daily suspense. “maybe” Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Maybe you’re okay. Maybe it’s best that you don’t know. Maybe it’s best to trust those around you. Maybe it’s already too late. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about. Maybe.   Maybe this one was about me.   ...

  Moment   Doubt blankets: The cocoon of disbelief Does not comfort, But it numbs… Yes, it numbs.   Pockets of the yet determined band, Hollow-eyed, But resolute, What burns within these stalwart? Betrayal. Yes, betrayal.   Betrayed by neighbors, By co-workers, By friends, By relations. Betrayed by their stubbornness, By their cling to old habit, To worn ideal, Too stubborn to grow beyond routine, Beyond decrepit bias.   See the hopping oligarch! He has played an ancient fiddle, The masses danced to that hoary tune, And the Republic burns. See the far puppet master! His strings pervade the woven web and Electronic engagements Allow orgiastic entropy entry.   See the bombastic blowhard! See the buffoon bow to every master’s behest. No corporate captain, But captive, he. A sodden sponge attempting to remain afloat, Riddled with soils collected, And always unwashed, Always unwash...

  Payout   I make my obeisance In the Church of the Felonious Infidelity, That I may be accorded some crumbs, And pocket change.   Give unto me thy crypto scheme, That I may sip the electronic essence, And writhe in ecstatic agony, With the release of the Quarterly Report.   O what exquisite torment! May my earnings abound! May coal-fired energies be expended! May the air clog with my gainful returns!   O Mammon! I call to thee! Mayest thou bless me with untaxable lucre! Give unto me proceeds oily! That I may buy an apartment where the air is cleaner.   Thus do I prostrate myself before the corporate altar, A willing acolyte to soiled reward, If it mean An invitation into the occasional limousine.   Wouldst that thou would remove What remains of my conscience, That I might revel in prideful payoff, And think myself a better class of person.   Therefore grant unto me a greater net prof...

  A List Pondered   The “It’s too late now.” The “What have we done?” The “Are you kidding me?” The “I didn’t think he would…”   The insufferable pronouncements. The continuous lies. The trolling Cabinet picks: The sleight of hand.   The “It can’t happen here.” The “He doesn’t mean me.” The “But I have been loyal.” The “How did it come to this?”   The all-encompassing greed. The nagging inferiority. The insistent paranoia. The driving brutality.   The “How is this going so wrong?” The “Wait, what?” The “How did I not see?” The “What do we do now?”   The panting adulation. The faulting emulation. The fawning tyranny. The willing subservience.   The uneducated millions. The uneducated minions. The easily led. The easily duped.   The missed opportunity.   Cliff Lake 11/14/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Lights   Here we are again: a crossroads unseen, What went wrong; confusion descends. Too many reasons for what should not have been, Still, we have yet to see how this all ends.   Why do you wallow in uncertainty, The future was never yours to portend. Why cling to failed earnesty, There is still the message to send.   Take up your burden, our work is not done. Though it may seem your back will no more bend, The hardest task is only begun, And we will gain strength they did not intend.   Put aside sorrow, but remember the tears, Support your neighbor, a stalwart friend! We have resolve, they, only fears, And we on each other will always depend.   Therefore, no longer fall to despair, And do not in anger your energies expend. Lift up that head, get your shoulders square! We have many to assist, and more to defend.   Shoulders to the harness now, there’s a long road ahead, And many bruised sensib...

  Lesserwolf   The sun pales. Its thinning ray illumes, But no longer warms. Darkness comes soon: Cold reality. Now do the wolves hunt. Beware thou weak! Thou tired! Beware thou disheartened! For the pack is set loose, And they are among us. Who would choose this dire? Who has forgotten your need? Would-be wolves, Carrion eaters, Willfully seeking scraps, Thinking they will feast From a repast They will never join. No wolves these! No better than junkyard dogs, Nipping and biting each the other. Or laughing hyenas, Waiting for their share of a kill They could not make for themselves. Bottom-feeders all, Hustling dry bones In the gray light They wanted so badly Thinking to feign larger teeth Than they will ever possess. But the sun may thin, Yet it still shines, And we see the jackals, As clearly as we ever have, And know where the wolves may be found. The sun pales, But the darkness is not complete, ...

  Treebirth   Some time ago in a golden land, Some came to power by heavy hand, And spoke against lessons long told, As fables made by feeble old.   They worshipped gold, they worshipped greed, They hoarded all, created need. They made rulebooks as sacred sign, And called themselves the true divine.   They hid new knowledge behind old fear, They moved progress back every year. Until life for most was stark, Until life for most was dark.   Then their cities reached up on high, Their towers reached beyond the eye. And fields of green were no longer grown, But roads and lots instead were sown.   Then the land was full of towers, Growing in place of lowly flowers. And only some could see the sky, Only those raised up on high.   But those below, they made complain, It seemed they would throw off their chain. But those on high said, “Don’t you see? The sky is hid behind the trees.”   They c...

20 Million Nothings – An Ode to Irresponsibility   The easy decision: Do nothing, Make no choice, Sit it out, And remain blameless. Such pretty lack of compassion! You have no responsibility to others, They make their own choices – Except when those choices are beyond their control. 2025 is here, And you helped to bring it. NO! I will not tolerate your dissemble! To wit: You have abandoned the care of the needy, The elderly, And those that cannot care for themselves. But really, is that your fault? What responsibility have you to they? Remember: you did nothing,   That was the choice, To choose… Nothing. And if the many are moved off this land, And the lettuce and the melons rot in the fields, Will you choose to dirty your hands? Or will you choose as you have: To do nothing. That way it will still remain Not your fault, right? Right? And when the raped child carries her child to term, You remain blameless, Fo...

  One at a Time   This is our last shot: The American Experiment is imperiled, Not just by an aggrieved would-be tyrant, Whose greed is exceeded only by his disdain, His indifference to the struggles of the common, His hatred of anything that does not exalt him. Though he seeming looms large… He is but the face of the menace. For we are imperiled by more: Sycophants of the martinet in high places and low, Bullies and treachers-in-waiting, Subservient to hatred and their twisted desires, Willing to havoc all in service to cruelty and domination. Betrayers of the trust they were born to, Saboteurs and slanderers, Snakes every one. Yet others are taking their shots, Outside influencers manic, For they sense the experiment in peril, And would lend their expertise in chaos, In disorder and disarray, Their own failures evident on the world stage, And would not learn anything from their mistakes, Unless it be how to educate our nation...

  The Arrangement   The agitator had been caught in the early morning. Someone so seemingly well-funded Should have known the coffee shop was under surveillance. Bold as brass, Sitting in the front window, This Enemy of the State went willingly enough, And now sat quietly before the Interrogator. As expected, his answers were too often cryptic, Misleading or Outright lies. His poise remained unshakeable, Bordering on impudence, Even in the face of known whereabouts, Aliases, Operations, And even knowledge of incidents Attributed to him, That were not his. His nerve seemed unshakeable. Expected, yes, but maddening for all of that. One question remained: “Who is funding you so adequately?” The agitator’s eyes flicked to the guards in the room, To the Recorder, Then back to the Interrogator… A tacit gesture, Delivered with a seriousness not worn before. The Interrogator dismissed the guards, Waved the Recorder off. Whe...