CliffSongs

  Bits   The bits keep coming off. They don’t stick around long, They melt, or dissipate, or… When he said he was coming unglued, I didn’t think it meant This. He found it in a pawn shop, the book – Arcanum Exsistentiae , Old, Leather-bound, A curiosity smelling of... The shop owner let it go cheap. The bits don’t disappear as much as Fray? Fade? Flee? I think all of those are right somehow. I asked who was going to translate it. He said he understood every word. He also said he didn’t know how. He read some to me, Until he stopped. Until the bits started... They don’t fall, But they don’t float, They Waft, Like feathers, He said we’re feathers, The book says we’re feathers. “Feathers of Life,” he said, “Held together by...” Then the bits began... feathering... I’m going to try to get him back. I can read the book, I don’t know how, It’s still Latin but... I’m going to try to get him back. I’ll let y...

  Shade   The pulses, The ones and zeroes, They echo across a creation as intangible as breath, Their reality is the product of arrangement, Constructs that disappear, dissolve, disengage, With the flick of a switch, Or the whim of a nature uncontrollable. What real phantom will you embrace? What impalpable rock sets your feet? What two-dimensional figure do you reach for? Only the glare of the screen answers. Words. Words, words and words. Colors and sounds from any distance unresolved, The flat plane observed, Lifeless, Though it resembles animation. Without a mouth of its own, It consumes. There is no reality here: What is meant to be seen is seen, What is meant to be heard is spoken. Words. Words, words and words. They are but a shade of the speaker, Insubstantial as the breath required to speak, What is seen is meant to be seen – Reality has more bruises. Imperfections hidden by pretty phrase, Implications misr...

  Beast   The chest is now no longer unbeaten, The hulking imbecile is pacified, For now… Only for now. But the ego hungers, There is no satiation. No reward is large enough, No praise loud enough, No blood hot enough to satisfy, “More” is the only answer it hears now. The beast is ravenous, The animal is rabid, The creature rages, And still it is uncaged. It will not be tamed, It cannot be tamed, It will rain itself upon the world as acid and fire, And still it is uncaged. It has revealed itself: It is lunacy embodied, It is a careening carnivore, It is demonic and unmanageable, And it is eyeing a terrible weapon: It wishes to release hell, And all of us know this. It must not be allowed. Yet, The safeguards have been gnawed upon, The controls are weakened, The buffers assailed, And it senses its moment… It must not be allowed. It has wished its entire existence to be feared – Now is as good a time as any f...

  Long Secret   They had developed the drug in secret. It didn’t do what they wanted. He had lived longer than expected. They tracked him and his movements. He disappeared while they were watching. He outlived all of them. He had lived longer than expected. He showed up in the records again. He was not supposed to be there. He had lived longer than expected. It was too long. They investigated the records. He was everywhere. He was in plain sight. They couldn’t find him. He came to see them. He came to see the test records. He disappeared while they were watching. The test records disappeared with him. They looked for him everywhere. He was not in the records. He was nowhere. He had disappeared from sight. They never found him. They wanted the secret. It would do what they wanted. They searched the records. He was nowhere in sight. He had lived longer than expected. He outlived them all.   Cliff Lake 6/4/2...

  Weapons for the Bold   Weapons of the Old Houses languish, Awaiting their time. Walled away in timeless chambers, Hidden from the unwary, Denied to the unworthy, Arms meant for the bold hand, More for the bolder heart. Forged in the Fires of Anguish, Not steel, Not bronze or even gold, Knife and spear and sword and shield, Fired strange and wondrous, And deadly when wielded by the just. Long ages kept, Still untouched by tarnish or decay, Unlocked at need for the last defense, When all other armament fails, And need is dire. For a foe yet lurks unchallenged – A monster tearing at courage and trust, A brute savaging empathy and ethos, Leaving in its wake rot and weak wills. Still it hides, Wearing the face of tyrants and bullies, Of corrupted officials, And gathering sycophants and quislings To do its bidding, Until it may declare itself in the light of day. Then will the latent spaces open, Then will the relics sh...

  Hope in the Dark   It is not enough to speak of hope, Impalpable and distant often… Hope is initiated by action, Be it small, Be it unglamorous. Hope is transfused through devotion, Through adherence to a just cause, Through empathy and a kind smile. One must apply that hope: One must be that hope. Ruthless resolve is called for, And a dedication to decency. Hope may cut through bleak times, Hope may suffer through the gloom, Hope is the knowledge that the dark Always gives way to day, That the night is punctuated by the stars, And that the moon returns to her fullness always, And the patient one will see her again. Hope is not blind obedience to fantasy, But is the flower lit by a single ray of truth, A fact piercing the fog of desperation, A handhold at the precipice unlooked for, Yet present all the while, One only need widen the gaze, To see that the clouds end at the horizon, And know that all storms pass in time. ...

  Relics Remix   Relics stolen from unspeakable eons, Misunderstood, Misrepresented, Misused. Curated control. Marvels of unadmitted civilization, Mysteries adorned in ritual, Explanation buried beneath conceived canon, Manuscripts long tainted, Mistakes made in millennia, Necessitating mandate, Guilts absolved in the text. Hear the holy men declare themselves! There is no doubt of them, Given the endless repetition… Miracles long past lose their potency, Though reaffirmed often in blood. Ancient words ring hollow Until twisted properly, Revealing new truths, Born from greed, And justified with slaughter. Now are the relics repurposed, Repolished, Held aloft for new reverence, And a better violence. Let the credos ring out! Let us misinterpret the scrolls In our own image! For bloodletting is sacred, If one reads between the lines. Therefore, let us choose carefully, And reimagine all To suit our present nee...

  A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT   Dear U.S. citizens, Your residency retention tax is due. Payment must be immediate. Cryptocurrency is preferred for tax purposes, And may be eligible for a discounted rate, If and when we feel like it.   Please see attached Dermahue™ chart for your rate. Remember: tanning is no excuse!   This administration would once again like to congratulate Last month’s winners of the Produce Lottery – It is understood that the tomatoes Weren’t as overripe as in the previous drawings. Congratulations!   Be advised that the Produce Lottery Is suspended Until such time as The labor camps are restocked With fresh “voluntary” homeless, And the remaining political agitators.   Citizens, The rumors of a deadly strain of measles Continue to be false! The cities of Houston, Dallas, New Orleans, Detroit, Chicago, and Boston are fine! All should be back online shortly, And as vigorous ...

Keeper   It ticks on, A nameless device, Purpose forgotten, Or too menial to require record, A mindless automation. Powered inexhaustibly, Its maker left his mark unstamped, Thinking his name to survive All the abysses of time. It ticks on. What set this piece in motion? What unplumbed mind placed it so? Some creature unimaginable? Or merely unimagined by such as we? It cannot say, Or does not, A mechanism dumb, The long slow years counted, But without a why, Only the what is measured. It ticks on. Should we mourn such heedless existence; It would not do for us – Senseless and mute, A thing out of time immeasurable, Except by it. How many decades has it seen? How many centuries, Millenia? None. It sees nothing, Knows nothing, And keeps what secrets it had, What utility was its design, And solely functions without use, Beyond use, Of no use, But to measure the moment, And then another, And one more, ...

  Low Dose   How many homeless Can you ignore Before you must Assuage the guilt with a dollar? How many hours of television Will you binge Until your attention span gives out? Don’t ask me, I’m just trying to keep My sodium intake down.   How many foreign wars Can you ignore Until you must purchase A ten-dollar care package? How many congressmen Will it take To ruin or save your retirement? I wouldn’t know, I’m just trying to keep The porch pirates away.   How many years Will you allow to pass Before you realize You can sort of cure Your insecurity with a new phone? How long before you see You’re screwing up your kids too? Not for me to say, I’m just trying to keep A low profile.   How much credit Debt do you need Before you get sick Of dusting off all the junk you have? How much responsibility do you ignore With the right balance of medications? I couldn’t guess, I’m just trying...

  Nightburst   Stark silhouette, Flashed hard and approaching, And the sky splits, And weeps again. What beast roars here? What outcry overhead? What hard breath carries the turmoil? Gray, gray, all above is gray, Or nearly black, And it roils. Some lively thing, Rolling masses backlit, Or lighted in staggering band: There and gone, Searing afterimage. The rumbling clamor comes closer, Continuous and insistent, And with it a growing susurrous: The cascade speaks with its own voice. Stabbing light! Again! Sharp crack and following: Rolling grumbles fading to distance. Stabbing light! Too near! Blast and boom! The silhouettes leap! The gray curtain descends and obscures, Streams form temporary, Pools pool where there were none, The air cools, The ground steams, The cleansing has begun. What rages overhead moves away, A pretty display fading, The crash and slam drums loud elsewhere, A cacophony and serena...

  Cold   I am hunted. When I need rest, The trail goes cold. My dog is a great help, As are the binoculars, Shadows, The sun in their eyes, And their smoking fires. Such arrogance. There four rifles to them, A stupid weapon now, A noisy tool telling your place. The silent dart takes the unwary, Saying nothing until the body is found. Cold marker. Tales of a ghost in this wood are mine.   The collapse was swift. Disasters rose, Markets fell. Pandemics consumed, Armies emptied populations And each other. When the power went out, Mercy and compassion went with it. In the new dark militias arose: Gangs of vicious desperates Siezing the weapons caches, Claiming mandate until dying in their turn, Slaughtered by like gangs stronger, Or perhaps hungrier. Ubiquitous attritions. Cold charity. Less than a decade yet past, The bullets nearly gone, The fuel used up, Tanks and planes dead and useless. Deep fo...

  Quota   As I stood in line Waiting for my propaganda quota, To get my fill of the pamphlets, The posters, The promos, The pills, I tried to imagine a time When it wasn’t required, And I might be allowed to think for myself. What happy days they could have been! Waking every morning unadvised, Not quite knowing where you might go or, What you might wear to work or, Where you might lunch that day or, What you might do that evening. Think of it! A myriad of choices! All yours to make! Clothing of different colors, Different styles, Mixing and matching! Varieties of foods, Some cold! Some hot! Yours for the asking! And what if you (on your own) Could choose your entertainment? Or simply choose to stay home? Imagine! Your entire day Filled with choices, Selections, Options, Opportunities… And being forced your every waking minute To have an opinion, To have preferences… To make decisions… On your own!...

  Elephants and Trees   They said there used to be real elephants once, Bigger than the tents we live in! They said there used to be elephants once, But those stories are older than the tribe.   They said that trees were shoulder to shoulder once, That they would blot out the sun! They said there were more trees once, But what proof is there of that?   They said that corn grew everywhere once, That it didn’t come from the bosses! They said you could grow your own corn once, But where would the water come from?   They said you could live in the cities once, That you could live inside the buildings! They said the cities did not kill you once, But everyone dies of radiation.   They said that the sky used to be blue once, That you could breathe without a filter! They said that there was good air once, But I’m too old for children’s stories.   They said you could go where you wanted once, That there we...

 

  Small Satisfaction   A whistle of wind, The dry rattle Of what leaves remain to sound, No requiem here. Here is nowhere, Even if it is somewhere, Perhaps it had a name once, But it is long unmapped since. Perhaps for the best: Its sole inhabitant, Past hope for salvage, Having long dismissed his own identity, Hoping for escape, To be trapped in the barren. He has no use for irony, Though he be gripped by it. He knows he will not survive here, Yet animal instinct drives him still, And finding water he drinks, And finding prey he eats, And finding shelter he sleeps, Then wanders more. It is a cleansing he thinks, A reduction to a purer form, If it is not a redemption. If he is found, Will he be known? If he is known, Will he be tried? If he is tried, Will it matter? He has already given himself to this waste, And it has given back, Though poorly. Yet it has been enough, And he will wander another day, ...

  Old Smoke   In the Lands of Lost Promise, The smokes of old fires linger. Bright glow now mostly ash, Blown and gone, Murmur of despair following. Fading light delivers indistinct shadow, Blurred vestiges of boundaries once known, All but forgotten In the encroaching cold and dark. Once tended radiant blazes, Revered for their warmth and illume, Burned hot at need, If heart grew cold, If mind went dark. The pyres were blamed of searing too torrid, Of lighting too clear, Beacons leading away from glooms and fogs, Where shadows conceal, Where deed may go unfound. In the Land of Lost Promise, Old smokes linger, Remnants of fires past, Embers cooling under ash, But yet hot, Awaiting staple and stock, And the winds of change, To roar back to blazing life, And light our course Out of the dim we stumble in, And rekindle the spirit that was, In the Land of Lost Promise, That we may find the way again.   Cliff...

  Tides and Tithe   What value has valuation? None, I think. Do you value gems? Do you value gold? Do you value numbers on a screen? Value is arbitrary. Value is momentary. Value is circumstantial. Attend: Salt has been valued equally to gold. Aluminum has been valued more than gold. Silver was valued above gold. See the man! He has been locked away more than this week. He has been given only water. He is offered a pound of gold in imprisonment, Patterned as he cherishes. He is offered a pound of steak in imprisonment, Prepared as he likes. Which will he choose? Starvation is the great motivator. At times I have been reduced to the essentials: Food, clothing, shelter. It may happen again. Maybe I will survive it. Maybe I won’t. Neither matters because Eventually I will not survive – Not at all. Of what value will my small luxuries be then? To me… Nothing. Therefore, what value have they now? None of them are...

  Low Thing   Clumsy betrayals, Blunt blades bludgeoning, Dull pronouncements shred, A disease chosen to salve defect: The cancer ruptures and spreads. Brutalize petty grievance, Take offence at whispers, Penalize the broken. Redemption cannot be had, But it can be pretended. Mispronounce the lie, Reapply the misstep, Unappreciate the fallen, Present all corroded truth, A charade harvesting gold sustains. So few, so few, Allowed by reason of empty belly, Made powerful through inaction, Overestimated - yet still flesh rotted, Can it consume itself? Degraded testimonies, Disturbed distributions, Defaced Declaration, Displayed debaucheries, Delighted despots. Electronic ascension manifested. Enumerated empires enacted. The controls removed from the operators: Drones in service to treasuries; The cost of calculating the cost. So few, so few, Iron fists in soiled gloves, Maintained in bewilderments. The lowest ha...

  Charge   A task, a duty, A call and service, The onus hefted ponderous, And choices absent. Plodding progress, Hindered results, Finality still lies ahead. He did not petition this, Though it was required of him; No other dared stand in, Soft and pampered as they were, He was already tempered in life. Hard challenge and paltry advance meet, His resolve hardens to granite, He can no longer be swayed. Offer gold! Present silver or better, The silken thigh… He has not turned aside, Even death he has denied. What loyalty compels this stout? Only this: He has given his word: The coin he will not trade, The currency beyond his barter, He is bonded to himself. Can you ask more? He has no better to give than that. And in the asking, You will receive less. He is committed to the charge, He is consigned to this chore, He is submit to this test, He will fulfill. Stand aside, He does not stop, Until the end. ...