CliffSongs

  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

  Nickel Man   Have you met the nickel man? Shiny and hard, and sharply presented at first, But dull and scratched and indistinct with use.   Have you seen the nickel men? Brittle when thin, easily bent from true form, Coarse when fat and often in the way.   Low-valued they are, But widely in use, Added in when needed for the full measure.   Wearers of the cheap suit, Shoes just that side of burnished, The buzz word finds their mouth easily.   Do you know a nickel man? Third cousin, beer near to hand, Working on the next divorce.   The favor he asks, Character witness, Sour butter would be a preferred flavor.   Are you too close to a nickel man? The required distance is avoidance, It only gets greasy when you shake hands.   Where do you find the nickel men? Writing law that will not affect them, Or producing the reality TV.   They may be under your car, Installing the used oil filter, Or interwebbed, selling “vinta

  Maiden West Wind   She first saw him long ago, Graceful, regal, Clothed in the finest shimmering black, It was not then that she lost her heart, For she gave it freely.   She spoke to him softly in that springtime, A whisper and a beckoning, A warm caress she became, Calling in the morning, or at sunset, Though he appeared not to hear.   But maiden West Wind was steadfast, For she would have him lift his wing, And take her under lofting gently, Sailing the skies, As he sailed the waters below.   The days grew warmer as they must, And summer approached all eager, And to him came another, And she was as graceful as he, And of his like.   Then did maiden West Wind grow wrathful, For she had warmed the grasses for him, And had borne warm rains to him, And carried away smokes and dusts, And he noticed her not.   Now his affections were given to that white swan, So like to him and unlike, So that maiden West Wind could not

  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

  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

  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   Cliff L

  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, Now the arr

  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,