CliffSongs

  A Vile Sat   What trials you at the last? What examination comes? What analysis of deeds unwanted, What probe may make you undone?   Just take your seat now, you vile! This is the reward well deserved. Watch as you are now revealed, Your unmasking is now well observed.   This payment conceived in denial, Avenues closed one by one, Which abandoned are invited against you? You must pay the final sum.   A stripping away of the layers, Unseemly deeds are now spoke. The record of your violations, Are exposed from the mirrors and smoke.   Where will you find your salvation, Some glove that will not fit, What miracle revelation, Will keep justice from being submit?   You cry foul! to the heavens, But who will hear your refrain? Your chorus is only static now, Few minions to hear still remain.   This is the end now, pimple, Carbuncle, cancer and wart, And end to your suffered leeching, No more will you justice thwart.  

  The Three Toe Stumble   Here comes Marge, motion in hand, No real support, but she will grandstand. They once followed but now they bail, Poor widdle Marjorie, doomed to fail.   Hear her yellin’ about space lasers, She ain’t satisfied with Texas razors. She hates it when you’re behind Ukraine, She won’t be happy until nuclear rain.   Marjorie, Marjorie, talk that jumble! Marjorie, don’t you see, you should be humble! Marjorie, all your plans do crumble, You’re tryin’ to dance, but you Three-Toe Stumble!   Now which amendment do we throw out? The ones you want just make me doubt, That you have any clue what you talk about, And face it Marge, you got no clout.   Marjorie will bitch, whine, and scream, Cuz she can’t further Putin’s scheme. She says Johnson’s on the street, Marjorie, just accept defeat!   Marjorie, Marjorie, talk that jumble! Marjorie, don’t you see, you should be humble! Marjorie, all your plans do crumble, You

  Likes and the Like   Where is your validation? Do you find yourself warmed, By the accolades earned From your performance on the stage, Or that of your social media account? Is that flashy automobile, Reflective of your inner being, Your bank account, Your parents doting, Or their dotage? Is the sum of your investments, The sum of your investment In the pursuit of achievement, Or simply numbers on a page, Shared with yourself. What is your validation? A certificate hung behind glass, Or digitally reproduced. A mortgaged home that supports both jobs, Containing the children, Your mother asked for. Is your pride then held, By having been productive, Or is it found in a gap-toothed smile, Lit by your entry into a room? Where is your validation? Is it found in what you have collected That is inert and inanimate? Is it in the reply you wait for, Good or bad, Found on the device consuming you? Or is it in the wagging tail,

  Marionette Melancholy   The puppets morosely gather, Their strings clutched in their hands, Waiting for Master’s arrival, To begin the dysfunctional dance. What words will they be made to speak, Nothing is left to chance, Which way will they now move their feet, Entangled in circumstance.   Unhappy marionettes, Caught up in a string of lies. They dance in the slow spiral, Empty intentions undisguised. See them jerked around daily, Their feet nearly always ungrounded. See them spin and jump when told, See them spew the tales unfounded.   What do these instruments seek, Do they have any goal in mind? Or are they merely played with, And discarded for better toys in time? Will they meet satisfaction, Will they achieve their ends? Or will they be tossed aside at last, With no hope for amends.   Do not feel for these little puppets, This is the choice they made: To be manipulated wholesale, And live in another’s shade. They

  Georgia Girl   You, Georgia girl, you ain’t no peach, We won’t swallow what you preach. You have soiled your vaunted station, By trying to sell out your nation.   In servitude to a traitor, You show you’re a collaborator. A short listen tells us how, You’re a pipeline from Moscow.   Russia bound, Georgia clown, All the treason you expound. Russian sound going round, Georgia girl, you’re going down.   The things you say my blood freezes, While claiming service to Jesus. On the Capitol steps raving, Georgia girl, is your soul worth saving?   In the midst of the Bible shouting, Propaganda you are mouthing. How much Russian info can you yell, From the confines of a prison cell?   Russia bound, Georgia clown, All the treason you expound. Russian sound going round, Georgia girl, you’re going down.   Cliff Lake 4/18/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Sleepy Don   Sleepy Don that creepy con, Hasn’t been getting much sleep lately. He has so much to dwell on, That will affect him greatly.   Sleepy Don, the same suit on, Can’t bother to pay attention. What’s he on to keep him calm, And thus avoid detention?   Sleepy Don, lost his Teflon, He’s attending his accounting. Though his lies go on and on, In court the facts are mounting.   Sleepy Don has his gag on, That doesn’t seem to stop him. His posts go on some marathon, Will the court finally pop him?   Sleepy Don, try to cheat on, Your tricks are nearly played out. Sleepy Don, will you bleat on, About how law is weighed out?   Sleepy Don, we will watch on, Don’t worry about your ratings. Sleepy Don, these cards you’ve drawn, You’ve come to what your fate is.   Sleepy Don, stifle that yawn, Wake up to your reckoning. Sleepy Don, will you catch on, That justice here is beckoning?   Cliff Lake 4/15/2024 Copyrigh

  An Open Letter to Mike Johnson   How much longer will you avoid, The duties that you applied for? How much longer will you evade, The matters you are derided for?   How many lives can you overlook, How many do you explain away? How many lives were extinguished in rubble, How many lives were in your hands today?   How much longer will the whip hand, Control your every action? How much more blood has to spill, To effect his satisfaction?   How many lives were lost this week, Due to your unbroken inconstance? How many lives to overcome, The price paid for your conscience?   How many times are these questions asked, Are they become painful to hear? How many times do you choose your own pride, Just to satisfy the veneer?   How much longer will you deny, The choice to be humane? How much longer will you pander, To the bloodthirsty and the insane?   How many more times will you forget The words you know are true, How many m

  Advisements for the Guiltless   Hey there, Grumpy Gus, Got your best same suit on? Got your frown on your face? Well then, you’re ready…   Make a statement on the courthouse steps, Be sure to sneer When mispronouncing the judges’ name. Defame the jury anonymously, That way the charges can’t stick. Do you have any pictures Of the prosecutors relatives? Hand those out freely As proof of your goodwill. Make certain to deride the proceedings, No more viable demonstration of virtue Is there than insult, Everyone knows that. Your fervid proclamations of innocence, Will surely be bolstered, By threats and intimidation, So, you must bluster angrily, And scowl fiercely. And let us not forget the efficacy Of endless complaint, Grousing, grumbling, and griping, Are most welcome in the courts, Making you appear strong, invincible. Remember, it’s the dog that whines, That gets fed best. So, whine like a dog, dawg. Finally, one must

  The Way Back   Look at you cringing from the smallest change, Things haven’t gotten that far out of range. Our existence isn’t so full of dread, Why do you listen to the talking heads?   Their hyperbole doesn’t bear examination, They deal in panic, not information. They have you convinced it’s never their fault, Keeping you on edge and prepared for assault.   There is no way back, The future is here. Things have not gotten off track, It’s change that you fear. Ahead of you is just another day, It’s not some personal attack. There’s always a better way, There is no way back.   You want to go back to “the way things were”, Less informed and more polluted you prefer? Your doctor performing bloodletting with leeches, And the seasons explained by what some guy preaches?   You’re letting hustlers and swindlers tell you what to think, Bringing this nation closer to the brink. Why put your mind in the hands of some hack, Riding your b

  Tears for They That Hold   Putin-defiant they stand, Though genocide looks on them bold. A bulwark they are, The stop against the ravage. Yet in that, Are they ravaged themselves, Yet they toil on! Distant sisters and brothers, They would be forsaken by orators, Who lose nothing, Save the errant mouse-click or two, By the least read among us, Who tell they would withhold succor, In Jesus name. What shame is this! Daily my thoughts turn eastward, But mindfulness and bullets, Are often estranged. How do I coerce the already-bought, That they may do their duty, And throw off their cowardice, And become human once more? Why do they choose craven negation? Why do they deny empathy? What sort of creatures must they be, That they allow an entire nation to be bled, While the entire world watches? Slava Ukraini! You are not forgotten, Though for this time denied. We see you, Ukraine! We hear you Ukraine! We weep for you Ukraine

Social Mania   Elmo-bro becomes upset. His eyebrow begins to twitch. From two years ago replies I get - All I said was “Tax the rich.”   In the past that was the plan, But the Elmo-bros suddenly bitch. Why so protective, Elmo-stan? Why should we not tax the rich?   Tax the rich, corporate or man, Tax the rich, please understand, Tax the rich, why don’t you see, That way lies true equality.   What is it these devotees haven’t learned? Why are their attitudes so one-sided? What has prompted the sudden concern, Of the worshippers misguided?   Are we to remain so trusting To heavy-handed media social That these big corps avoid busting, Because some fans may go postal?   Tax the rich, corporate or man, Tax the rich, please understand, Tax the rich, why don’t you see, That way lies true equality.   Cliff Lake 4/9/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024   #TaxTheRich

  Call of the Drudge   In homes throughout the land, Bells ring, Buzzers buzz, And beepers beep, Dragging a population out of sleep, To face the gray morose of Monday.   In kitchens nearly everywhere, Begins the ubiquitous ritual of brew, While in some that is accompanied By the crack of egg, The surprise thwack of the toaster, Or the innocent rattle Of preformed grain hitting the bowl, Soon to be glazed by too much sugar, Then shoveled into bodies too small To contain the coming energy slam.   Many homes harbor anxious pets, Now purposely underfoot, Hoping to delay a routine They both do not understand, Nor can appreciate. Their upright companions will be gone, Long empty hours, And will be in need of much comfort, Upon their return. It is a puzzle unsolved over and again.   Now doors slam, And locks snick, And engines cough, Their poisoning essence behind them, And the drudge unsatisfied, Regains its hold. Anot

  App Rope React   What is it that’s driving the need, For an app for everything today? Is it necessary to have electronics, Report on stuff I could otherwise say? Do I really needs to record The hairs growing from my nose? Or determine the relative heat, Of the fungus between my toes? Who needs such information, Is it really that bugbear Big Brother? Or is it simply helicoptering, By your overbearing mother? I hesitate to think government oversight, Has become so intrusive that it Needs to know your pants are too tight. Are we to become a hivemind senseless drone A groupthink multicell population Interconnected by a handheld phone? I mean to say what is coming next, What is happening to romance When too many are having sex by text? And why on earth should I have to pay The cell phone company For some damn beeper to tell me to get up today. Or that I should refuel the car, And check the oil, headlight fluids, I know where those stup

  Core Belief   What stranger times have these days been, Than others you have been to? Did you think you would make it then? But see what you have been through. What trouble there did you surmount, Some trial unforeseen? What unknown strength did you discount, What backbone un-routine? See now, you have come this far, And yes, future awaits – But life comes at you all bizarre, None of us perceive our fates. Fear not extraordinary news, Such has it ever been. No need for panic’s spooking cues, Straighten your spine again. Fortitude has kept your stand, Though you do not remember how. You lived through things all unplanned, You’ll live through them again now. Look in your mirror at eyes steadfast, That do not look away. Look at you and know at last, You can survive the day. I leave you with this last word, Thought it’s already said: Fear not the things you may have heard, Remember your own strength instead.   Cliff Lake 4/5/2

Johnny Redhat   Where are you marching to, Johnny Redhat? Did ya get a new tattoo? Wearing decorations waved in 1939, Are you prepared to be a loser too? Have you convoluted all your logic, Have you unread your Bible yet? Aiding and abetting stupid shit With a hint of violence to make you wet.   What’s that bumper sticker, Johnny, Is that a crucifix and gun? Will you make the streets red with someone’s blood, Is that your idea of fun? What’s that you’re singing, Johnny Redhat, A tune they made inside a jail? Are you marching to a conviction, Are you moving toward your fail?   What did you buy from him, Johnny, A two-dollar bill that you paid twenty, A bobblehead maybe, or just a pin, Or a digital drawing that rooked you plenty? What are you hoping for, Johnny Redhat? Real representation from someone in the House, Changes for good at last, for you and yours, Or permission to remain a louse?   What’s the endgame here, Johnny Redha

  Share Shear   My compliments, you bought the dream. Paid up front to join the team. But things are quickly losing steam, Gosh! It’s just another money scheme!   Your money’s better stuffed in a sock, Or buy magic beans and climb their stalk, Than for you to take some stock, Guaranteed a falling rock.   Didja buy some pump and dump? Didja fund someone’s economic slump? Didja take it in the rump? Does the mirror show you a chump?   Did you think you would get rich quick? Are you looking for the uptick? Did you try to float a brick? Does this swine need more lipstick?   Maybe you are smarter than me. Maybe profit eventually. Maybe you will dance with glee, And maybe pigs will fly carefree.   Didja buy some pump and dump? Didja fund someone’s economic slump? Didja take it in the rump? Does the mirror show you a chump?   Cliff Lake 4/2/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Hidden Ass Set   Glorying in rallies past, Now they try to keep his ass, Under wraps, away from view, To hide he doesn’t have a clue.   Glitchy, glitchy, always bitchy, And always with the money pitchy. Can he keep his tongue untangled, Keep the facts from getting mangled?   Or will he traipse on gaily, Repeating that name Nikki Haley? Or create some real drama, And campaign against Obama?   And in the speech sometime later, Say he wants to be potater. While he’s up there, sell a shoe, Or a signed Bible or two?   So handlers keep him away, Afraid of what he just might say, I agree I must confide, A Donald Trump’s something to hide.   Cliff Lake 4/1/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  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, We lon

  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 against the reveal

  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 followed by the sheep.   The