CliffSongs

  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. ...

  Momentous   Moments get precious these days. A smile, A sound, A whisper, A frown. Any may carry the weight of your waking, Any may weigh heavier in sleep. What will you carry to your pillow?   Moments are precious these days. A word, A silence, A laugh, A sigh. Any may carry weight in your walking. Any may bear weight on others. What care do you embody?   Moments neglected these days: Civility, Kindness, Courtesy, Care. These once had weight, Now they are too weighty for some. Where are they in the balance?   Moments too precious these days: Skies, Scruples, Sacrifice, Silence. These have weight in the memory, Though not all weigh you down. How light do you step?   Do you carry your weight? Or are you weighed down? Do not let your head hit the pillow too heavy, Not all weights are yours to carry, And not all you carry need be a weight.   Moments get precious these ...

  Deniability Plan   The appearance of truth, That is the thing. Let us accept plausibility, As the facts may bear our fingerprints… What story would you hear? Who would you have blameless? A few buttons pushed… A few egos stoked… Heroes created from mere air. Or is it demons that you seek? Phantoms begot to attach your hurts to, Injuries perhaps also taken from the imagination, Still, real enough to be spoken of, yes? Sly victims… The willing misled. Will you call foul when the light shines clear? Will you admit your mistake? Will you admit it was no mistake at all? Will you cower yet behind convoluted conspiracy? Or will it be enough To point to the single source You would not abandon? Are you satisfied today With the appearance of truth? Are you so tied to dogma? Are you so bound to unexamined doctrine? Or is it simply less burdensome To accept The appearance of truth? Things are sometimes as they appear… Maybe...

Heartweight   The heavy heart, Its weight so burdened, Graying the day, Graying a life.   The crowded mind, Listening hard loudly hears, It speaks louder, Weighting the heart.   The deafened ears, Choosing their noise, Filtering day, fearing night, They crowd the mind.   The staring eyes, Seeing forward, Unbelieving the action, Deferring to ears.   The suffering soul, Intuiting more, Overshouted by eyes and ears and mind, It speaks to the heart.   The heavy heart, Its weight so burdened, Graying the day, Graying a life.   The suffering soul, Intuiting more, Overshouted by eyes and ears and mind, It speaks to the heart.   The heavy heart, Its weight so burdened, Graying the day, Graying a life.   Cliff Lake 3/7/2025 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

  Bubble Bro   Wrapped in his bubble, His outlook colored, Diffracted and smeared, The fragile filters occluding, But smelling clean enough to be tolerated, Maintaining their oily coruscations.   Warped in his bubble, Unaware of externals, An ego self-maintained, Subject to easy injury, One only needs a fact To prick the shell.   Wasted in his bubble, Sucking the oxygen from the room, He trumpets his disdain Of the troubles of others, And tells how their harms Affect his bottom line.   Wandering in his bubble, He sees only so far, A view restricted by comfort, A perspective painted in pennies, Would outward reach shatter The self-imposed blister? Wrapped in his bubble, He feels shielded from scrutiny, If he does not see out, Who may see in? But really… Who wishes to peer beneath so thin a skin?   Cliff Lake 3/4/2025 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

  He Said   The silence he spoke, A commentary in omission, And the turned back. He does not leave, The point is driven more deep In rigid remain. An iron refusal he has become, A negation, Featureless now, He is a silhouette in the flesh, And just as mute. The steel of his shoulders Brooks nor accepts no appeal, Yet here he stands, Resolute as rock, And as approachable. Remaining is his comment, One of you has ceased to exist, And he has made the choice. Your petition goes unheard, Should you have dared, But the set and square of this form Allows for no attempt, One may as well plead a wall To become a door. Yet it is none of this that snares the tongue, no… It is the knowledge of the betrayal, Of your betrayal, Of disassociating yourself from trust, A trust that was once complete and unsullied, Cast away for selfish gain, Not a mistake, Once repeated, A mistake becomes the pattern, And the pattern was se...

  Allegory   The allegory flew over the bleak land, Crying its message. The stink of failed promise, Of betrayal and petty puffery assailed it, But it carried the agenda, And remained unaffected. For it was born of need, It was the vehicle, And in mockery and exaggeration, It told the tale and the truth, And would not be shot from its height By the ignorant and the unlearned. The allegory spoke against greed and And the clowning hammer wielded, And though it seemed strident to some, It called to the hidden strength: A groundswell of the trod upon, Ordinaries tired of the foolish games Played on them and opposing them. Games played in high places, Using these average as pieces and prizes, Where the rules are written on the run, And then not followed at all. The allegory saw all this and spoke loud, Flying along the wires, Gliding the beams, Landing where it may, Invited or no. It told its tale through necessity, Were...

  People   The little dog likes his walks, The man likes how well his pet is trained. He bags up the dog poop, Good citizen. He leaves the bag on the sidewalk. People are the worst People there are. Is half an effort Worth the trouble? Would asking him that Waste oxygen? She signed up for the climate newsletter. She forwards it to everyone. She thanks herself for doing her part. She won’t donate. She finds plastic bags provided More convenient than bringing a reusable in. Is the non-effort of one person so bad? How about the million just like her? People are the worst People there are. Don’t tell me of good deeds Performed to salve a conscience. Don’t show me help That is only assuaging guilt. Why are the consequences Someone else’s problem? How long before They stop performing at all? The little dog has a bladder infection, The carpet gets a bad smell. The shelter can only keep so many at a time… People Are...

  Crash Carnival   Hello suckers… ARE WE READY FOR THE CRASH CARNIVAL? WELL???   We open the curtain to: The Elaborate Disaster, Intricate in its processes, An undulate progression, Stagnant in practice. See the Clown Confessor! He explains the course corrections, Not getting the joke, He tells all. See the Big Hat! It’s on top and still empty! Not everyone wants to wear it – They all put it on. It’s starting to get too heavy, But that’s the fashion these days! And look there! It’s the Minion Ride! Climb on and lose your mind! And then your soul. Or the reverse if you like, It doesn’t matter which, It’s still an endless spiral, And the only direction is down. And what is there to eat? Crow. Lots and lots of crow. And your hat and of course your foot, Which has been in your mouth all along! And all of it is covered in sugar and cocaine: Tastes sweet going down, Gets you on your way in a hurry, And ke...

  Before   Sometimes, When I am very tired, I can see the Long Ago, A Before, When I was.   I was more then, We all were. We shone, So we did not fear the dark, Or the things that came from there after. That was the mistake, I think, We were so young, And had not yet learned bad.   We were warned. Told of things We could not understand, But some learned, yes, Some learned.   They stopped shining, And said that it was growth, That they were becoming, And they were, But we did not see They were becoming less, Though they said that they were more. Then they set themselves above us, Used words as weapons, Until we shone less, Making it easier for them, And harder on us.   Sometimes, I get so very tired, And see glimpses of the Long Ago, The Before, When we were, When we shone, So that we no longer fear the dark, Or those, That wish to keep us there.   We can shine. ...

  It’s So…   It gets weirder. You never know when, Until you’re there, And then it’s so weird. You try to piece it together: The how, The when, And why nothing fits Until it does - And then it hits you: It was always weird.   You got weirder. You tried to normal, But you weren’t there, You were too weird. They tried to take pieces of you, Your why, Your who, And it gave them fits, Until they won’t, Because it hit them: You just got weirder.   They get weirder. They aren’t normal, They’ll never get there, They’re just too weird. They tried to fit you, Somewhere, Somehow, But you picked up the pieces. Because they won’t. It finally hit you: It’s always weird.   So, it gets weirder. The whole of your when, Your every there, It’s just weird. Everything is all pieces: Every why, Every then, And looking back, it fits, Because it does, And sometimes it hits you: That’s so we...

  Perspicacious Persists   Perspicacious looked out upon the unraveling, And he packed his bags. He could not say If it was the beginning of an end, Or the end of a halting start. It mattered not which – An end is not defined by its beginning. Perspicacious spent no time wondering: It had gone wrong, In spite of his efforts, In spite of the efforts of others, Spite and cruelty fed upon themselves, And there was plenty of both to go around. So, he packed his bags, Said minimal goodbyes, Traveled far, And dug in. The unraveling persisted, Grew angry, Violent, Virulent, And raged through. Perspicacious rode it out, And when all had come apart, He wandered the tatters, And kept his head down, And his wits up. The controls were dead, But the ravers were not, Preying on each other, When easier targets were not found. Perspicacious persisted, But did not participate, That way lead to danger and Death was too easy...

Starwash   They drift past my window, Wisps and whispers, Singing sad songs, On moonless nights. Beautiful and ethereal, Only half here, And somewhat there, They bid me dance with them, And learn unremembered secrets Under the starwash. We listen for the melody Brought on earthy breezes, Played on the trees. No step is undue, No partner unwanted. No small creatures flee before us, And my spirit is cleansed, Under the starwash. They sing soft and slow, That I may understand, And share in a loneliness For lost brothers, I did not know I had. But awakened from my bones: A longing and an ache Present in my waking self, And only partly made well now, Under the starwash. They beseech my belief, Though I am willing enough, Still they ask that I dance again, When the moon once more hides, And the clouds part for us, That we may find each other, And remember our kinship, And the trust we used to hold, And share in o...

  Friends   I can see my friend, I can see him from here. But he won’t visit any longer, He won’t come by. He no longer trusts me, Or the people I live by, And I do not blame him.   What have I done to my friend To cause him to shy from me? I have existed. I have existed in the right place At the wrong time. And though that is not my fault, Still, I do not blame him.   Once I loved my existence, In this place, In my time, Faulted though it was. But now too many that also live here Embrace those faults, And name them virtues.   Loudly they proclaim against my friend, And name him lesser, And claim debt of him, And threaten his home, His livelihood, His autonomy, And would co-opt his home.   What’s worse, Is that I do not know If I can stop them, From attempting to act on their words, And neither does my friend, Nor do any of his friends. And I don’t blame them.   Once I ...

  Mired   Muddy waters, Hidden hazards, Smoke and haze, And through it all, Strident voices crying imaginary woe.   They wandered the broken landscape, Scavengers they were called, Parasites and scroungers, Yet they only desired to live. Their clothes were poor but sturdy, Good enough for the work deemed their station. Hard muscled they became, Built rough, And living rougher.   Mists and mirrors, Fogs and feints, Deceits and despair, And through it all, Invocations against each other.   They worked the blasted earth, Menials they were named, Unworthies and unwanted, Yet still they were used. Their eyes were clear and unhardened, Good enough to see through lies told too often. Hard willed they became, Numerous, And growing stronger.   Moans and accusations, Complaints and threats, Empty promises and failures, And through it all, The gibbering fear that they will be seen.   ...

  For Immediate Rele ase: The Real Fake News – Kids in the Hall Edition   Elon Musk today announced plans to have wheels replace his feet after discovering one of them was a left. “If we’re going to make any progress, I’m going to have to roll through this presid… uh, appointment.” said the erstwhile cyborg to a group of children he pulled from a large sack. He then ordered the group to rifle through the Resolute desk and throw out whatever they found.   President Trump took laps at the Daytona 500 race. As expected, no egg prices dropped as a result.   Mark Zuckerberg has cancelled all public appearances until his oil can is located. He has however promised to continue making Facebook even worse.   Health and Human Services secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. today denied reports of the existence of the H5N1 virus, also known as “bird flu” claiming, “Whoever heard of a bird with cold symptoms, I mean, c’mon!” Meanwhile he promised to release a list of...