CliffSongs

  29 October: Queen in the Dark   Why does she dance just in darkness? Where the shadows stand tall, When the trees have gone gaunt, And memory goes small? Why does she dance the darkness?   The bitter light of bright morning, Alarm sharply shouting shrill. A dawn arriving without warning, Causes the first of daytimes’ chill.   Sunlight that crawls across pale flesh, Provides no warmth to be had. Bound to some forever quest, Will she dance, or just go mad?   Why does she dance just in darkness? Where the shadows stand tall, When the trees have gone gaunt, And memory goes small? Why does she dance the darkness?   Through hustling hordes passing unseen, Unease left in her wake. Disturbing remembrance of some lost queen, Sorrows a life they would forsake.   Few will mark where she has trod, Answers no call nor fervent amen, No imprint she leaves upon the sod, The burning thirst rises again. ...

  Black Bile Strut   Creature of venom, a walking putrescence, Chaos arrives and remains in your presence. A disaster in flesh since you were a child, A disease in the spirit, no redemption on file.   The villains’ vapors escaping your smile, Promises, promises, fingers crossed all the while, Evidence you’re consumed of something vile, Just when was your first taste of the black bile?   Black bile in the vein, Black bile on the brain. As long as you gain, It isn’t your pain, Don’t you ever restrain? We see it so plain: Black bile in the brain, And you don’t mind the stain.   Poisoned and putrid, and just that side of sane, What crawling evil courses your brain? Swimming those streams of least resistance, They propose schemes at your insistence.   They look askance while all you defile, Afraid they take a chance on exile. You’ve taken the inch and you want the mile, If they but once flinch, drown them...

  25 October: Hunter, Hound, and Moon   Wind had told Crow. Crow had told Fox. Fox informed Rabbit, Who speedily told the rest. But none had told Hound, Too often in the company of Hunter, And so could not now be trusted. But Hound was quite clever, And not all of the Wild had left him, Though long had he lain at Hunter’s hearth.   Now Hound would slip the door, And bolts at speed to Wood, Hunter trails unwilling, Bow to hand, Fearing danger Hound would confront. Hound leads Hunter to unknown glade, Resting ‘neath Robin Red’s tree, Who trills his Sunset Song. Dark closes quick, And Moon peers silent through the trees. Yellow-clothed at the horizon, She slowly ascends, And soon sheds her saffron, To sheen in pearled white.   Rays and beams reach forth glimmering fingers, To wrap Hunter in gleaming glamour. Now Hunter is taken by some fascination: Wiping at eyes somehow blurring, Shoulders shaking in ecsta...

  22 October: Call of the Void   I am not a superstitious man… But someone tell me: Why do the shadows move? This lightless room Vibrant with motion, Impossible, So real. Formless dark advancing, Immaterial movement menacing… I am not a superstitious man, But do my eyes deceive? In this dark Only the void is darker. How may a shadow whisper? How may a whisper rasp? Some language unknown slithers, Sibilance surrounds. No sense in the syllables, Until my name sounds. Who calls to me from the gloom? No, This is no calling, This is negation. I am not a superstitious man, But I fear erasure. The warmth here does not subside, It is stolen away, Replaced in chill. My fingers frost, My eyelids frozen, The icing words repeat on loop. Cold is the absence of heat. Dark is the absence of light. Demise is the absence of life. I fear erasure, But I am not a superstitious man. I feel as if I scream, I hear naught b...

  15 October: Turn Around   Don’t turn around… Isn’t that the rule? Don’t turn around. It isn’t that you want to see, no, No… It’s that you have to see. Is there? Isn’t there? What’s there? What? It isn’t that you want to see… Don’t turn around. That’s the rule. But… Is there? It’s better to not know… Or… Is there? What’s there? You know the rule. Still, What’s there? Who’s there? Is there? Don’t turn around! Don’t you know the rule? The rule is: Don’t. Don’t turn around. What’s there to see? Nothing. Probably nothing. It’s probably nothing. What’s there? Nothing. Is there? Probably. Nothing to see. Nothing there. Probably…   Turn around.   Cliff Lake 10/14/2026 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2026

  14 October: Of Autumn Rain   What can be said of autumn rain? The slight chill accompanies, The day tinged in darkening gray, The soft patter of the slow shower, Locked in for the duration.   What can be said of October storms? Have the bolts shown brighter? Has the sky gone darker? Does the chill dig deeper? The rain has never been wetter!   What can be said of these October showers? They breed hot drinks on a drizzly afternoon, They bear dry leaves to their timely demise. They wash away the summer-strewn dusts, This lingering cleanse before winter’s dress.   What more can I say of an autumn rain? One more layer of clothing applied, One more minute to get ready, One more excuse to dawdle indoors, One more reminder of the years’ close.   Say what you will of the autumn rain: Say that it adds to October gloom, Say that it is not convenient, Say even that it is not wanted, When has it ever done as ...

  Herald   The messengers go by many paths, This urgency must be met. The enemy approaches in his wrath, But our doom is not yet set.   Our ally is many leagues away, Does he know our plight? Our enemy may between lay, But hope now rides this night.   So, ride you herald, ride! Bear your dispatch for your king! Ride, you herald, ride! Though evil tiding you bring. The aggressor has a thirsty spear, The oppressor will not mere rest here, So ride herald, death draws too near, O ride, herald! Ride!   Through hidden lanes and forests old, The messengers ride out, To speak of oath to uphold, And put raider to rout.   Swift and silent they must ride, Before the foe can make assail. They speed ahead of evil tide, They must win through; they dare not fail!   So, ride you herald, ride! Bear your dispatch for your king! Ride, you herald, ride! Though evil tiding you bring. The aggressor has a ...

  8 October: The Paper People   her name what was her name you were there when she slipped you were there when they slipped you can’t see them from the side paper people the paper people you were there when they slip in through the cracks you can’t see them from the side their eyes not eyes their not eyes don’t look at their not eyes drains siphons you were there when what was her name she slipped through the when they took she slipped what was you saw their not eyes they took not all of when they took her eyes you see her eyes drain slip they slipped they took her name the paper people they took what was you were there when she slipped they took what was what was her name you were there when they slipped you were there when she slipped what was her name   close the door don’t look don’t look at their not-eyes don’t look at   Cliff Lak...

  6 October: Lantern Jack Goes On The Hunt   Lantern Jack was having a panic attack: Someone had run off with his cat in a sack. Lantern Jack swore he’d get Hellcat back, And persecute the perpetrator of the hijack.   Lantern Jack headed out the back, He could barely make out some traces in the track. Past tombstones and moonstones and a rotting haystack, Jack soon spied a shuttered up shack.   Lantern Jack had to hang back: No telling what was hiding intent on attack, Jack was prepared to take on a whole pack, If it meant that Hellcat wouldn’t end as a snack.   Lantern Jack crept up on the sorry shack, And peered through a window just open a crack. There was no one inside that he could give a whack, Just some broken furniture and one lumpy sack.   The empty room took Jack quite aback: He thought he’d find some ghoul inside talking smack. Instead, he found webs and dust and fading bric-a-brac, And ancient Mo...

  A Strangulation   The incessant need of the crowd: A succubus you sought out. Insatiable in demand, The audience that smothers.   The slow strangulation of popularity.   A vacuum of you, You gave willingly. Doled out for the suffocating return, How much of you is left?   Slowly strangled by popularity.   Give and give and give some more! Is it still genuine? You give and still they hunger, When did you cease to win?   You are strangling in popularity.   Hollow, you got hollow, Who can say what will follow? You started the cycle – And now you can’t get off.   Strangling yourself with popularity.   What do the numbers add up to? Do you gain just to gain? What have you got upon review? You’ll leave it behind just the same…   The doors that never stop knocking, The answers you cannot give. The vortex that you created, You fell in and can’t swim.   Thi...

  1 October: Shadowframe   1 October has come again, The strange time is risen. Weirdness gripping you and your friends, Darkshine in the eyes where it has deeply been.   There lies the question of some secret flame, A participation in a hidden game, A wolfish joy as October came, And a beckoning to the shadowframe.   And so we slide into the shadowframe, Where you lose yourself someplace without name Where on you strange places its claim, Lost between reason and real, (It’s all the same) This is you in the shadowframe.   Do you dance the moon alone, Felt perchance in blood and bone, A happenstance of some unknown, A fevered trance on firestone.   And so you slide into the shadowframe, Where you find yourself without a name Where on you wild places its claim, Lost between reason and real, (It’s all the same) This is you in the shadowframe.   This yearly harvest heralds winter: A collecting...

  A Moment in Texture   The texture of the moment Lost in the sweep of hours. To exist within a time That cannot be held, But is relinquished To mere memory And the regret of inevitability. Another dumpy specimen Swimming upstream against the regimen, I watch the moment Rushing to remembrance, And settles with the impermanence of life Subject to recall without notice.   And the world went on without me.   Another day and More facts to rearrange, Doesn’t it all seem a little strange, This sticky web; This life we’re anchored of… All that input for the same old output, Nudging existence onward, Until we exist no longer, And our trace is washed away, At the end of the day It was just another day, And we made it after all.   And the world goes on around us.   Sometimes the shadows pass my door, A pale parade in pantomime, A partial pageant painted. Ghosts in daylight, Lost to the night....

  Darkday 2026   What is this pounding? Those deep, drear beats resounding? War drums beating so constant, Or the growing chorus of dissent?   What is this reeking? What grave offences are creaking? Newly risen criminology, Ruination sans apology.   And the days drag on And the will wears down. And the light’s most gone, And I am near drowned…   What is this reaping? What is this malfeasance creeping? Payola to the open pocket, So fast you cannot clock it.   What is this stealing? Out in the open double-dealing. You’d think it made no sense: Leadership without conscience.   And the days drag on And the will wears down. And the light’s most gone, And the dark surrounds…   What pallid light lingers? Is there hope in this gloom? Give me flint and tinder, Let the light back in the room!   What is this fleecing? Who mans this grift unceasing? Some decrepit unaware, Lon...

  One Four Three, Two Four Five   A viewpoint through intensity, Synapses fired in new complexity. Pinwheels; bike wheels, they sound the same, Cycling always: sing the refrain. The walkthrough of a total amaze: A respite from ordinary days. So long now, a spark in the past, We never knew how, how long it would last.   One four three, two four five, Just a few hours to survive. Wandering out on the deep dive. One for three and two for five, Some are grateful and still alive.   Shining shards of darkness salted, Left in wholeness exalted. Dim-remembered revelation, Savored, selected from the vibration. The spin-through of totality’s maze: A respite from ordinary days. Strip this society’s flaccid mask, Seeking answers you did not ask.   One four three, two four five, Just a few hours to arrive. Wandering out on the deep drive. One for three and two for five, Some are grateful and still alive.   ...

  It’s Lake Ontario   Google Maps has made the incredibly imbecilic decision to allow a toddler’s temper tantrum to rename a shared resource, namely Lake Ontario to “Lake America” and display that idiocy on any Google map within the United States. I get it, they’re big, and unwieldy, and probably uncaring and too self-absorbed to correct and just won’t listen to we ordinary folk… Or…   You can submit your feelings about this nonsense in a number of ways. Allow me to copy Google’s own instructions detailing how you may tell them to cut the crap:   “You can send general product feedback or report app bugs in Google Maps by tapping your profile picture and choosing Help & feedback . On Mobile (Android, iPhone, & iPad) Open the Google Maps app. Tap your profile picture or initial in the top right corner. Select Help & feedback . Tap Send product feedback . Type your ideas or issues, then tap Send . Tip: ...

  Miss Information   The smiles, the guiles, The recording all the while. The wiles, the friendly style, The gathering of the exploit file.   The cocked aim, the locked frame, The shaping of the long game. The proclaim, the defame, The seeking of the shocked shame.   The long and fruitless quest, Between what is known and what is guessed. Speaking what in secret what was confessed, And in speaking, fail the test.   The bargain burn, the chastise churn, What is the sought-after return? The adverse affirm, the coached confirm, Who is the now turned worm?   The long and fruitless quest, Between what is known and what is guessed. Speaking what in secret what was confessed, And in speaking, fail the test. The faulty thread, the falsely led, The fealty never said. The furor spread, the facts shed, The fantasy found instead.   The safety shred, the belief bled, The allegations lie ahead. Lies i...

  The Legacy   A legacy to stand for all time, A legacy of your own find, A legacy of your own mind, A legacy of the wrong kind…   Hear me child as I tell the story Of a brute who chased his glory Under false pretense and the backroom deal, Through power grab and outright steal.   Hear me now as I mean to show, What your frail ego will never know: Of the falling down and the frequent fail, Hear me now as I tell your tale…   A legacy to stand in time, A legacy of your own find, A legacy of your own mind, A legacy of the wrong kind…   Will they remember what you defaced? Will they remember your frowny face? Will they remember how you were clowned? Is your legacy what you have torn down?   What do you think you leave behind? In your criminality too entwined. Daily someone takes pains to remind: In the files you’re enshrined.   A legacy to stand for all time, A legacy of your own find, ...

  Muddied Waters   He muddies the waters, He muddles the minds. He offers them what they desire With the empty hand. He proffers the fist When the pocket needs priming. He is congenial when convenient, He is spiteful when spied. A stalwart when opportune, He is firmly in his corner. He deflects from the main thrust When the corner becomes too tight. He muddies the waters, He meddles the minds. He speaks in spirals Intent on descent. He proposes the unreachable With his fingers crossed. He sings the praises of the praisers, He spurns the reports of the real. He margins the market, He marks the marks. He deviates the documents, He nevers the news. He muddies the waters, He messes the masses. He maligns modesty, He is misshapen morality. He practices the unthinkable, He thinks he isn’t caught. He shaves the points, He starves the hopeful. He hungers the hallelujah, He hides the history. He hallows the hateful...

  Lonely Turn   The lonely rock slowly turns, Its crowded face slowly burns. For peace and plenty the lowly yearn, As the elevated play their unconcern. Stars above stare blankly cold and stern, At a lonely rock that slowly turns.   Points of light in darkness wheeling, They hold their knowledge unrevealing. No knowing what they’re concealing, Unwarm, distant and unfeeling.   The lonely rock slowly burns, In uncrowded space it slowly turns. The elevated play out their unconcern, For peace and plenty the lowly yearn. Stars above stare blankly cold and stern, At a lonely rock that slowly burns.   Sun and moon dare to grace the sky, Light our struggles but don’t say why. Though our every effort may go awry, They merely watch this rock from on high.   Specks on a rock that daily yearn, Heavens that shine in unconcern. Elevated laugh from heights unearned, As beneath them tribulation churns. No chance f...

  The Daily Reap   Red dreams howl in a twilight we did not ask for. Promise fulfilled claiming lives. Marching goons welcomed by morons unaware they are listed also. Daily chaos daily reap. Bibles raised opposite the gun hand. Pulpits praise the reddened tide. Lawless lawmen perform in concert. Justice flees her skirts undone. Daily disarray daily reap. Pledges lied for eager sup. Contracts signed to be ignored. Roving eye staring blankly. Covered ear hears praise only. Twisted tongue truths accidentally. Margin multitudes miss the message. Daily discord daily reap. Costly bread choking masses. Hobbled peoples forsaken legacy. Vanity project mildewed by morning. Cash conscription for golden tomb. Daily snarl daily reap. Untruth spoken sold for profit. Nightmare molded newly taught. Historic fumble fashioned as win. Character cratered callously championed. Illegal lega...