CliffSongs

  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 have we traveled? The

  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 billions. What will t

  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 their lighting gases. G

  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 her. A

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   Cliff L

  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 is set,

  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 that I led.” “You’re on

  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 feel?? L

  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 © Clifford Lake 2024

  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 calling, They too make their prayers

  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

  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, Fallen

  Rats in the Hall   Russia, Russia, Russia… The spectre risen. Who fears its influence? Or – Who fears that influence detailed? That the influence exists Is not the question, Who is influenced Interests me more. Who denies not that they are influenced, But denies That the influence is there at all… They intrigue me. Some of them get reports, yes, Some of them are told. And some of them deny the knowledge… Yes, They intrigue me greatly. Russia, Russia, Russia. For some in that land, The Cold War never ended, Therefore, they cannot have lost. Renewed effort, Contacts cultivated, Wooing conducted in public view… Who, I ask, who denies? And why? Russia, Russia, Russia. Have you seen the sly wink? Have you seen the titan leashed? Have you seen the kowtow? Have you seen the action invited? Have you seen the excuses made? Have you seen the favors granted? Have you seen the denials Of these things apparent? Those spea

  The Edge   Out on the edge… This where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  The Dolt Chronicles   The story written in disarray, Wonders what you’ll say today. Manipulated from the start, Destined always to fall apart…   Pinned your hopes on the outland poser, Letting him pull the wool over. Set you up for the committee blunder, Then the rug gets yanked from under…   How does the story go? Did you ever really know? Somebody told you so. So, it’s on with the show…   An agent stuffed full with rubles, Now the center of your troubles. Playing sleight of hand in the game, Can’t you tell what’s in a name?   What will you tell the puppeteer, How to appease foreign overseer? Thought you would achieve great renown, Time to apply your makeup, clown…   How does the story go? Did you ever really know? Somebody told you so. So, it’s on with the show…   Thought you were protecting, But you were defecting, Part of the infecting, Here comes the correcting…   How does the story go? Did you ever real

  Unsung   It was near the great falls that these met, Two warriors, Champions of their peoples, To battle for the honor unspoken, And unheralded as it was.   There beneath mighty trees, Were their weapons bared, The vigorous clash sounded, But the crashing waters louder, Allowed no note of battle heard without.   Wound upon wound dealt, No tiring these stalwarts, Sighted by curious forest denizens, Wandering on their own quests, And wandering on.   Far into night, Then dawn and day, Too evenly matched, Too invested in struggle, Two refusing yield.   Night came again, And with it at last taxing strength, And a dual thrust, Then both of these understood expiration, And collapsed together vanquished.   Upon the dawn, A passing tribe happened on that site, And laying down their burdens, Erected a cairn over those fallen, Though unknown to them.   No word came to their peoples, No remembrance made. None came by

  Now   Now. This is where you are. This is the moment. This is your moment. Can you act on the future? You can try, But when it arrives, It will be your past. What will you do then?   Now. What can you do now? You can plan, Or you can act. You can act on your plan, Or simply plan and fail to act, And remain as you are, Now.   Now. Everything you have done, Has brought you here. Everything you have not done, Has brought you here. Are you the person that did, Or did not do, Now?   Would you do those things, Or do something, anything, That was not done, Or could be done differently, Or not at all, Now?   Those things are done. Or Those things were not done. That was then. This is Now.   This is the moment. This is your moment. Move forward, Now.   Cliff Lake 2/17/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Not Like That   Now ol’ Joe he had a plan. To help Ukraine like only we can. To push back Putin, defeat the madman. And fix the border at the Rio Grande. But the Republican says:   “Not like that! Not like that! This is how we make your plan go splat. This is how we keep our wallets fat. Not like that! Not like that! Hey motherfucker, not like that!”   Now you wanna keep your Medicare, Use the funds you donated there. Social Security would be fair, Just like the liberals do declare. But the conservative says:   “Not like that! Not like that! This is how we screw the Democrat. This is how we keep our wallets fat. Not like that! Not like that! Hey motherfucker, not like that!”   Wanna have a country that is sane? Wanna see common sense reign? Wanna see us go down the drain? Then vote the conman in again. Not like that!   Wanna get war weapons off the street? Let your kids’ lives be complete. Comply with 2A, but discr

  Right Wail   What trampling thing blunders here? Some maddened brute Cornered and thrashing. A rampaging swine belligerent, Its roars, soiling the night, Unintelligible meanderings hurtful And still meager. Incautious beast, It’s spoor smeared generously, Claiming domain with its stink, Leaving the clearly marked trail. Now follow the guardians circling, Penning the thing in, Pinning it down With its own claw and sting. It senses the net laid, Snares it made for itself, Cast widely, Through pride and indiscretion. It calls for aid from the rabble, Gibbering creatures clumsy, Ill-prepared denizens Of places without light Educated in the greasiest nonsense. Their babblings run furiously into the ether, While their bank accounts run dry there. They support their growing hysteria With sacred text they have never read, And thus, do not comprehend. To the beast they will remain nameless, Faceless, And always at many arms’ le

  Chant of the Ever-Spiraling Dipshit   Down is up and round is square, And shoes should be worn in the hair. And 2 plus 2 will equal 3, In the new autocracy. Let’s be clear, I am so smart, I put the horse behind the cart. I let him push it with his head, I beat that horse, but it’s still dead. See me in my merry dance, See the bulge behind my pants. See me make up all new facts, See me when I take them back. Looky, looky, over there! See me criming, you don’t care. See my posts, THEY’RE ALL IN CAPS, See me on constant attack. See me get away with it, So you can all do the same shit. Know we are all the same sort, Guess we all end up in court. See the truth depreciate, See the new ones you should hate. Evidence hid in the weeds, Tending only to my needs. When I sense that I am done, Don’t think I won’t cut and run. And leave my kids some golden trust, If they aren’t under the bus. Now my little song is through, Someone tell