CliffSongs

  Turning Again   Now to the turning again: Artificial, Out of sync, The rhythm interrupted. We speak of beginnings, Of renewal, But the night is already relinquishing it’s hold… We miss the mark, We defy the pattern, We try impose our will on a natural order That ignores our puny attempt. It is only us that meet the seasons thus. Papered calculation, The days grow longer without our input, It has already begun. That is the true beginning, There is the renewal underway: Just days past, But we measure from a farther point,  And gain nothing. We celebrate vigorously our erstwhile computation, But the dark is already fading, The light is already strengthened, And we had no part in that. What is it then that we honor? Numbers only. Are we so fearful of this cosmos That we must ignore what always occurs In spite of our paltry pursuit of control? The tides still roll. The winds still pass us by. The moon waxes an...

  Influenca   They’re out there, Really out there… They critique the critic. They ruminate. They buzzard the news cycle. They fringe. They associate themselves with the infamous To create their own celebrity. They are hangers-on, Deniers of compatriotry, They are third-from-the-left, They are there. Click-baiters and namedroppers, Leeches of the electronic sort. They fester. They roil. They cogitate in wild supposition. They discuss. They detail. They leave out the salient. Infamy is their road, Notoriety their vehicle, Speculation their destination. Opinion distributors. Conspiracy providers. See them elucidate! Hear them decode! They illustrate their notions bravely! They expound assumptions in the face of logic! Courageous confusers. Contriving consultants. Who are we to provide fact? Don’t we know that their livelihood is at stake? How unjust it is to employ critical thinking When unjustifiable imagini...

  Black Pages   119 black pages Detail the sin. 119 black pages, Where to begin?   Pictures of pictures, they disappear. What is hidden becoming clear. Why deflect if there’s nothing to fear? Time of reckoning getting near.   Open the files wild and raw! Watch the DOJ break the law. Will we ever see what they saw: The ever-concealed fatal flaw!   119 black pages: They hide the lack of moral gauges. 119 black pages: The coverup still rages! 119 black pages: Prop up the shaking stages. 119 black pages: Within are sin’s wages.   Treating the populace as peasants, Robbing so many of innocence. People are no objects one can fence; Why do we still allow his putrid presence?   119 black pages: They hide the lack of moral gauges. 119 black pages: The coverup still rages! 119 black pages: Prop up the shaking stages. 119 black pages: Within are sin’s wages.   Running one half st...

  Rebuke   Not a day gone, Nor yet in the grave, The murdered lie cold, Yet your words run colder And thus Your cruelty is assured. Your shame spills over, Though you hold none of your own. Short-timer, there is much you could yet do, Besides mourning strictly over you. How brazen your lip service! You mourn your own renown, And place the blame Squarely where it must lie: With the victim, With the victim. What derangement grips you? Too often do you name yourself – Ever you claim fevered oppression Even as the invective flies from your lips, And the orders are made against those Who scry your sin. How many more can you repulse Before you stand alone? Your pursuit of isolation is too evident, May you be granted your boon, And be the victim, Be the victim. The lies no longer cover   Your expanding ass, The deflections you cast No longer obscure a revealing past. Teflon wears when scraped often, And you ha...

  President’s Piece   Waste that pleasure craft, big boy! Hit them again, Because they can’t get away. Football plastic peace prize present, Tanker grab confirms its worth. Not so noble the pursuit, Not so noble a look, Cast away that noble dream. Resolute desk warrior, Bruise a hand again! The only visible battle scar. What spurs you on these days? Is credibility such a great loss? Then take the fight home to sweet Chicago, To Portland, To the Golden State, A show of force painted in orange goo. Who can afford such peace? Who can afford anything? A commander in chief too asleep to brief, Up all night in the media trenches, Unsocial, And untruthed. Your battle is with reality: Your public takes hits in the wallet, so, You advise austerity, Claiming it is prosperity, Sabotaging your verity. When you war with the truth of everything, Of everyone, How will you find peace? How will we? Peace president, Leave us ...

  The Carrot Of It All   O, the anticipation! The thing wanted and withheld! The promise just ahead, Clearly available, Just beyond the grasp! O, the anticipation!   See the finaglers, The arrangers, The slippery sinister! They parade justice as a newfound banner, They vaunt piety even as their sin is sung out. See their finger point away, Always away.   O, the anticipation! The engine guns forward, The load still undelivered, The car is empty, The hunger remains. O, the anticipation!   They have consulted each the other, The unspoken remains guarded yet! Not all bulwarks are breached, The keep remains. A feigned retreat, A sleight of hand, A seeming compromise. Give the rabble what they want, In word, not deed. The show must go on.   O, the anticipation! See the curtain rise! See the curtain behind the curtain! Does it yet conceal? Is there naught but brick beyond? O, the antic...

  Over and Over   The backroom is empty, Cigars all smoked. They slipped past supposed sentry, This is the tail end of the joke.   Just a little behind and Casey’s at bat, Who is going to even the score? Promises from an empty hat, The manager has closed the store.   And did you think you would get some aid? Maybe it was just for fun. Where were you when the deal was made? They lie in the sun. There they lie and give you some shade, Over before it begun.   It isn’t over until they say it’s over, But it’s over now. And still, they bask in the clover, And you’re behind the plow.   There you sit on the sidelines, Wondering when you’ve won. But you’ve been sold down the pipeline, Over before it begun.   And did you think you would get paid? Maybe it was just for fun. Where were you when the deal was made? They lie in the sun. There they lie and give you some shade, Over before it begun. ...

Testimonial   The tension, Ratchet up the tension. How else will you justify the thugs? The training, Don’t bother with much training. How else will they remain the thugs? What brutish tactics! What short sight…   Starvation, Inflation, Frustration, Predation. The tools of the tyrant, The clumsy hands that wield.   Constraint, Restraint, Complaint, Repaint. The pettiness of the bullying, The insubstantial yield.   Suppression, Oppression, Recession, Depression. The duress forced by insecurity, The results in the ledger concealed.   What use is history To those that refuse to read? Pressures applied Always require Eventual release. The fires you start today, Set the boil of tomorrow, That you think you can contain. This is a pot Larger than your ego.   You begin to burn your own, Thinking your lies Will outweigh their empty wallets, That your words Are more substant...

  The Wreck of the Old 47   The morning meeting convenes, The accolades are sung. Just another day Behind the wrecking ball. He’s being lied to, And accepts anyway. He looks run down, So he takes all the money, To convince himself he’s not drowning. He gazes at his good time buddies, As they look at what he’s done. Nothing seems to change, While the house stays shut down, And none of them will tell him, That he’s been such a fool. “SNAP!”, he cackles, “Let them eat crypto!”, he says, Guarding his own pile manically. “Let them eat ICE tear gas!” He gazes around the room, Waiting on the expected harumphs. “Harumph!”, they bark, “Harumph!” The assistant vampire steps forward, “The cozening will continue!”, it declares, Convincing no one further. They know what’s at stake, And none wish to be tied to the whipping post, Nor chained and bound. Yeah, Sometimes they feel like… It’s dying, The support they had feels like...

The Future of the Past   Gold glaring vulgar, Petty opulence to surround. No show of strength this, Merely garish self-congratulation, Just a harking back to a bitter history, Long lost to infamy. Ah, what one wishes! What dreams fondled! Think you to recreate a past You were no part of? It has already been, It is dimly remembered. It was discarded as unwieldy, Unworthy, Unwanted… So have you become. You tie yourself to visons dispensed with, Dreams of glory tasted by the few. And what of that? You see yourself of their number, Land snatchers and self-titular that they were. They too saw themselves superior, They too thought themselves beyond reproof. What matters that you run roughshod? All have been beneath you, So you are informed By the lackeys you have bought. Those trampled underfoot have long paved your way. You look to your apologists, Craven and grasping at your leavings, How much longer Can they explain away ...

    A Broken House   A broken house Shows what rots inside.   Because he loves the hate.   Because they love to hate.   Because of their love of hate.   What wreckage are we to endure? More walls have come down, More destruction in this land. And too near – An empty House, Closed for disrepair. One wonders at the timing…   What wreckage we are to endure! Metaphor springs to life, Trades the red hat for the hard hat, Keeps the hard heart. Make complaint to your local congressman, He needs something to do. And what of the broken thing behind the rubble? He revels in the complaint! Why? Because he loves the hate.   What wreckage are we to endure? Institutions torn asunder, Or starved of their resources. Their needy have no recourse But to clamor outside closed door. Too late – The delegates are sent home, And no one gets anything. But at least they are satisfied in knowi...

  Sorry Christian   O sorry Christian, Worshipping your church, Abandoning Jesus, How far you stray.   Sorry Christian, How you love to hate, Preaching against those you know not, Their customs strange. Their clothing may fit different, Their food be peculiar, Their tongues may be a difficult hear. Do they seem garish? Do you find them unwanted? Sorry, Christian, Your brother may not always look like you.   You sorry Christian, What makes your cathedrals so great? They stand higher than your works. Your prayers speak louder than your deeds, Your purses impede your morals. You walk with Mammon, And he with you. You value value, How can you thread the needle’s eye? Sorry, Christian, Poor treasure you have stored.   Lo, sorry Christian, Will you follow Peter then, Blade too ready to hand? Would you send the unbeliever Christward early? How you celebrate blood! How fierce in your belief! But t...

  Loony Time   Crises pulled daily, Manufactured by the wily, Extracted and presented As if from the forever pocket Of the animated hare, Leaving us to ask: “What’s up, Don?” We see the signs: It’s rabid season.   Yearning to be the rootinest-tootinest, He comes off a bit too daffy, And in desperation declares: “This means war.” Still, dark secrets loom, And when asked where they are found We’re told, “They went that-a-way.” Watch him dip, dive, and dodge. It’s duck season.   Pontificate, obfuscate, complicate. Explanations reach their acme, Blowing up when handled, Requiring more answer than: “That’s all, folks!” Still, they rush headlong, Towards the tunnel, They painted themselves. Can’t they read the signs? It’s rabid season.   And it’s despicable.   Cliff Lake 9/28/2025 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

  Watch and Pen   Tick, tick, tick, The time ticks away. What was given becomes taken, What was known is wronged, What was had is gone, What time we had has passed. Tick, tick, tick, The hour has grown much too late.   So slow the changes, The coming short-changes, The rearranges, Meaning to estrange us. What is the takeaway? What will they take today? Who will stop the decay? What am I allowed to say?   Drip, drip, drip, The ink drips away. What was written becomes unwritten, What was said is unsaid, What was there is gone, What we had is no more. Drip, drip, drip, There is no more ink on that page.   So slow the changes, The coming short-changes, The rearranges, Meaning to estrange us. What is the takeaway? What will they take today? Who will stop the decay? What am I allowed to say?   Chip, chip, chip, They keep chipping away. What was stable becomes unstable, What was soli...

  This House   Cartoon colossus, Your puffery deflates When even the smallest hero staunchly stands. The shifting sands of your straying conviction betray you. Your doubletalk, Your double back, Your instant balk, You’re talking smack, You walk it back. Big ego, Big mouth, Small where it counts.   Myopic titan, Head so high above your boots crushing, You do not see your stumbling steps. Circle back and twist again. Whose toes have you trod today? Do they hold you in such awe, That they will forgive? That they will forget? Discount them singly, Their complete number swells. Ants eventually cart away entire carcasses…   Bumbling behemoth, Bruised in body, Drooping display, Reckless reactions, The costs are no longer marketable, The harvest goes hollow, The taken have no more to give. Hungry mouths will fill with blame, And you have put yourself in their eye At every opportunity. They will only se...

  Crimson Feed   Conceal carry and the unsafe playground, An army presence and the threat of lockdown. Lady Liberty, more blood on her gown, And yet more life senselessly cut down.   How much more can we stand of this turmoil? How many more lives will we watch despoiled? How many too soon relieved of their toil? How many have been taken on this fevered soil?   Raise up another funeral mound! With crimson we feed this thirsty ground. Into this sod so many have bled. Are we to always water in red?   Just one more neighbor fed too much bile. Just one more neighbor turned into hostile. Sentence exacted by private trial, Just one more body thrown onto the pile.   Raise up another funeral mound! With crimson we feed this thirsty ground. Into this sod so many have bled. Are we to always water in red?   Fanning the flames, gas on the fire! Dance by the light of the funeral pyre! More rhetoric, raise tem...

  Vitriol and the Foolish   I have had enough of vitriol. Pouring salt in the wounds of the chronically salty? Forgive me if I believe that will be of no benefit. Whether you agree or not with a person, Their death by violence remains just that: Death by violence. One does not qualify equality – What is injustice against you and yours, Is the same injustice against someone you dislike. Our First Amendment still holds, At least for today, And though that person may have said things that you did not care for, This day he was allowed to say those things. Now he cannot. Not by his choice, But by the hand of another. That is not equitable by any measure. Already I see celebration of this violence. A celebration of violence! What kind of lowlife does that? Displaying hatred of the murdered will only encourage more violence. Have any of you considered that may have been the entire point? Or perhaps that this wasn’t politically motivated...

  Real and the Play-Doh of the Now   Industrial revolution, Ersatz evolution, Substance substitution. “Progress” Plastic-wrapped changes, Pre-packaged, presented, pre-approved, Delivered sanitized and pastel-colored. Transistors and silicon processors, More than conveniences, The user becomes the processed. No more woody scent of a cool eve, No more untamed posies to brighten a morn, No more unbound brook or liberated hedge, To remind of what was left behind, Forgotten by the aged, Unknown to youth, Buried beneath casinos and chaos, Mown down and resurfaced.   What replacement cheer is now pursued? What new gods are sought? What diversions now entertain, Battery-powered and sterile? Expanded access breeds total arrest, Binge-powered dopamine dump. Downcast eyes burned by blue light, Atrophy claiming muscles, (Though not those texting thumbs). Carefully chosen information doses, Pre-selected and wrapped in the r...

  Uncivil   Fully loaded trash detail, Gratifying an ego frail. Hidey-hole scaredy-cat alpha male, Under the bronze he gets ever more pale.   Cornered in the most uncomfortable seat, Plans and aims more indiscrete, Scandals buried by marching feet, I hear Ohio on repeat.   How do you start the civil war? How do you justify breaking down my door? Are you so hungry for violence and gore? How do you start a civil war?   The dashed tales of hoped-for fiction, Living mannequin reveals more friction. Unscramble age addled mumbled diction, Understudy hoping for eviction.   How do you start the civil war? How do you justify breaking down my door? Are you hiding what came before? How do you start a civil war?   Lessening impunity for the too coy, Lessening immunity to enjoy. Thin ice proposal for deploy, Parading the massive decoy.   How do you start the civil war? How do you justify breakin...

  Gun Thing   There you sit – the would-be king, Soaking up praises from the underling. Law and justice you would hamstring, All you care about is the cha-ching.   You don’t care who your chaos stings, As long as there are people worshiping. When the rifle barrel is done smoking, You dare to tell us, “It’s not a gun thing.”   The gun thing, You think it’s such a small thing, And we know you know about a small thing. The gun thing, It’s not such a small thing, And we know that you will continue to do nothing.   This script your base finds appealing, Maybe they’ll forget what you’re covering. Will you find a way to blame the left wing? What would you do if it were your offspring?   What shit at the wall will you now fling? To what outmoded law will you still cling? Another bloodbath – you haven’t learned anything, All you can come up is, “It’s not a gun thing”?   The gun thing, You think it’s su...