CliffSongs

  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...

  Artifact   He ranges on. Damp, dripping, sodden, He ranges on. The piece he carries disposes the weather not, Nor provides other comfort, Neither gift nor burden it is, But he suspects mayhap be both.   A relic it is, Ancient and appalling, Dire, dangerous, disturbing, And at times, Deadly. A token and tool of a time lost to history, This he is sure of, For it has made that much known to him.   When first he found it – Or the other way ‘round, He sought out those clerics known to him, And others more distant, Or removed, Whether by their own choice, Or driven elsewhere, And these most laughed when shown the worn bauble, Or recoiled in dismay, nay, even fear, Muttering incantations and hurrying his leave. One though called after him, Would not near approach, But cried out a name and a place to seek out, Then would say no more.   So, he ranges on, Toward some priest perhaps, Or better named ...

  A Summons   The dream comes to him more often now, “A rivalry between the spheres.”, she whispers, Then fades into the   And he wakes.   There is the feeling of loss always, And a sense of impending strife, More insistent daily. He wishes to know more. He needs to know more. He begs to know more. When next he dreams, She is more substantial, And smiling. “You have heard the call,” she says, Then, “Time is short.”   “We are beset.”, she says, “And yes,” to his unvoiced question, “That includes you, And yours, And the existence you presently sustain, For the threat has ascended all frames, And many are needed.”   “Threat?” he asks of the vision. Her eyes pierce him as she speaks: “You have seen its effects in your own firmament, Violences without cause save desire, Pursuit of vanities wielded against the common person, Acquisitions without purpose but kept from the needy, Suppressions and o...

  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...

  Endurance   Riches in dreams that I have never held, To have lasting beauty unparalleled. Thinking of wars and battles unfought, Hearts I heard beating that remain uncaught.   Islands and mountains remain unvisited, Raises and gazes remain unsolicited. All of these settings have their allure, All are mere fantasies that I endure.   Perception shifting as the infirm sands, Dreams slipping through my wanting hands. Lord help me to find a cure, For all of  the fantasies that I endure.   Striding across fantastical lands, Curing the world’s hurts with a wave of the hand, Learning all knowledge over all time spanned, Worlds I created overbearingly grand.   Retreats assembled from the thinnest of thread, Retreats I would rather reside in instead. Is escaping life’s sadness such a crazy detour, Or is fantasy a madness that I must endure?   Perception shifting as the infirm sands, Dreams slipping t...

  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...

  Storm   The revelers in the fortress frolic, They celebrate their coffers, Grown too large to be exhausted in a lifetime, And so jealously guarded, And admired by their keepers.   Overlorded by one of their number, But less clean, Less mannerly, Less than even they, But more brutal than any of them. He knows their deeds, Thus their loyalty is secured.   The fortress makes pronouncements of intent: A slowly tightening suffocation, It insures its security by right it grants itself, And by the display of sword and spear. It trusts such strength without question, Uninterested in the doings of the rabble beyond.   The fortress has deployed its guard, Faceless thugs with questionable order, And questionable tactic. The streets and the countryside slowly empty, Windows shutter, Lights lower, Open conversation declines, Secrets keep best in the dark.   Beyond the fortress wall the public works lessen...

  Interesting Time   Keep them guessing, Keep digressing, Keep up the chaos, Preventing digestion.   Perfect illusion, Adept occlusion, Keep up the carnage, Accepted confusion.   Oh, to live in interesting times, Oh, to see the interesting crimes. The news is going nuts, It’s still ten minutes until nine, What a way to live, In such interesting times.   Make alteration, Remake deviation, Keep up the camouflage, Opaque negation.   All distraction, All inaction, Keep up the curtain, Prepare redaction.   Oh, to live in interesting times, Oh, to see the blame get reassigned. The news is going nuts, It’s still ten minutes until nine, What a way to live, In such interesting times.   Infantile, Hire servile, Keep up the coddling, Toddler style.   Proclamation, More conflation, Keep up the collapse, Our damnation.   Oh, to live in interesting times, Oh,...

Toy Soldiers   Intelligence man Lost in a fallen empire. Does what he can, Redrawing maps is his desire.   A megalomaniac With something to prove. He is shifting his maps, And his toy soldiers move.   Missiles fly from town to town, Destruction that rains on down. He wants to wear ungiven crown, Toy soldiers hit the ground.   Blood spills the desert sand, Madmen in ancient feud. Genocide near at hand, Human lives devalued.   Move toward occupation, Unsafe in hospital gown. No mere desolation, Famine now the loudest sound.   Missiles fly from town to town, Destruction that rains on down. He wants to wear ungiven crown, Toy soldiers hit the ground.   “Cleanse the land” the claimed prize, Fear the streets if you are browned. Revive all the old lies, Unwanted skins now outbound.   Chicago, Chicago! Will sidewalks combat boots pound? How long will this ill wind blow? Thinks...

  Two Weeks   Two weeks. A time limit. A promise. An expectation. A deflection. A delay. A story. An angle. A fiction. Two weeks, A myth in the making, A vow of solace forthcoming, A tactical maneuver, An apostrophe in procedure, An intangible timeframe, A stretching into eternity. Two weeks, This concept of an idea, This plan to start planning, This suggestion of a program, This inconclusion. Let us meet That we may schedule the meeting. Two Weeks! That’s all it should take! Our aim Is to Arrange a Method to Propose our Intention to Suggest our Strategy to Contrive a Policy that Lays out Our projections Of the means To institute The program that Follows procedure. It’s never been done before! It’s the best at what it is! No one else could! No one else will! Best of all: It’s every two weeks. Two weeks. The time that Time forgot. Time enough for another surprise, Time enough...

  The Fall   Long ago, Beneath the waves she fell, And in her passing, The light in the world dimmed, And may not shine so clear again…   By many names was she known, A jewel and a pursuit was she. A desire and a destination, A longing and a goal, And many tarried there once finding her shores.   Unguessed treasures were hers to share, To bestow, Yet she kept not for herself, Curating for all. None were turned away that asked, None suffered if she could cure, An open hand she had, Gifting freely.   The scholar and the artisan chose her, The painter portrayed her elegant, The poet did homage. The flautist and the harpist played her beauty, As best they may, The singer made honor of her.   Widely was she known, Widely was she loved, Even from afar. Her philosophers and scribes Travelled may leagues, And many seas, To bring her boon to all lands.   Long ago, Beneath the waves sh...

  The Last   He is the last: The last sentinel, The last warder of the people, A near-forgotten relic of another day, Left behind by a mechanized world, Grown too metallic to recognize his value. Still, he strives: Resolute and unyielding, Here in a backwash of region, Where the arcane have lingered, Beings long conquered, But only exiled. Their resentment, Festered in bog and bracken, In dank places unreached by light, Continues unabated. He strives. With deep instruction and obscure tools he strives, A bulwark against the weird and the hidden, A sentry unpaid save by goodwill, He stands as the last bastion in opposition to the raging foul, He contains the monstrous that cannot be unleashed, Or the world beyond this hinterland would be quick consumed. He strives. He seeks no boon – His charge was given him by grim authority, His vow adamant and obstinate. His task brooks no abandonment: The unsuspecting will not stay...

  The Watch   What is poised against the deepened night? What ancient tower Yet stands against these times? What staunch stanchion still bolsters? What shield hefted? Does any Sun’s ray pierce the dimming day? Have all supports fallen, Has all faith foundered? Are there yet champions? Are there yet bold? What voices lifted in defiance? What songs carol against the dark? Answer these, Child, And hope blooms.   What gauntlet clenches? What psyche rages? What beast foments? How many quislings waver? Whose pockets bulge ill-gotten? What worms gnaw at our institutions? Who gathers the vermin beside him? What craven serves the mad master? What lies must now be lived? Who sees enemies at every lamppost? Why is that enemy you? Speak to these, Child, And defiance looms.   What babe is fed from many hands? What gran is sheltered by the village? What infirm has aid unlooked-for? Are your youth taught costle...

  The Faceless Men   They obey complicit order: Operation by color sorted. Rules of engagement get broader, Excuses made for old hates fodder.   Guns in the street no accident, Victims chosen for their accent. No badges signal their intent – Don’t bother asking the faceless men.   Faceless men in the street and then, People dragged off to secret den. Some are workers, some are friends, Disappeared by the faceless men.   Big black car going too far, Occupants that don’t say who they are. Not enough grabbed; lower the bar, Fascism’s course right on par.   All of this rank offence is meant, Explained away by precedent. Stoke rage and fear: the mind is bent, The cure offered are faceless men.   Faceless men in the street and then, People dragged off to secret den. Some are workers, some are friends, Disappeared by the faceless men.   Patrol the streets like prison guard, Featureless to ...

Dirty   Dirty thought It clogs my head. Much more grimy Than what you’ve read. Out in public The soiled pants. Of the public, The spoiled chance. Dirty stories That fill the air, I’m more stained than that, And you should care. Dirty, dirty, My motives murky, I see you all At my mercy.   Dirty above and dirty below – I’ll do ya dirty Wherever I go. There’s no use in being coy: Every move The dirty ploy – Call me the unreal McCoy, I am a dirty boy.   Dirty games from Dirty play, I’ll get dirt on you, And want disarray. Dirty deed In the back room. I’m more filthy Than you assume. Dirty all night, Dirty all day, Treat this land Like my ashtray. Wallow, wallow, Dirty ones follow. Just how much Will they swallow?   Dirty above and dirty below – I’ll do ya dirty Wherever I go. There’s no use in being coy: Every move The dirty ploy – Does my manner annoy? I am a dirty bo...

  Song of Stone   She groans. Beneath your feet, deep in her bones, Her cries on sour winds are blown, Poison on every street is sown, The blame most dour is well known, She groans.   Alone. Far from warming father thrown, Flung through freezing space she’s flown, Unseeing eyes on her face have grown, Out here singing her song of stone, Alone…   She sings her pain, With every bone. This longest sorrow, This mother’s moan. Does she call, Does she disown? Have you heard – The Song of Stone?   Bear on, She’s sung to her moon so long, Singing of millennia gone. How many nights, how many dawns? How thinly is her patience drawn? Bears on.   Belong. The multitude of beings throng. Their instinct lives in the song, How did man get so headstrong, How do we hear the tune so wrong, Belong.   She sings her pain, With every bone. This longest sorrow, This mother’s moan. Does she c...

  Home is Where the Assault Rifle Is   The promises deflated, The charts pointing nowhere. The statistics dancing to the strident melody, The midnight rant, The better bully welcomed. What warm air can further pump the ego? More guns. Get them out on the street where they belong! Bring the fear home. Show the world! Flaccid power display. Shake your fist at the lies you tell: That’ll show ‘em! Bring the fear home, Swamp the streets with the unnecessary, How that wets the pants! Power over your groupies slipping, You show them more guns, That’s entertainment! This is the circus, Will they do without the bread? Have you found your Colosseum, Or the Bastille? More guns then! Bring the fear home! March the military round and round! When two or more are gathered in democracy’s name, Is that a riot? Certainly some find your moves laughable… And some find lockdowns distasteful, And most of those voted for… More guns th...

  Dead Silence   Why do you shout so? You have been heard before. Though not all your words have been so clumsy. Still, some have disguised their intent. Too long you have professed charity, Too long you have written the moral. Too long behind the compassionate rifle, Too long taking careful aim. Soiled virtue your superhero cape, You become the cartoon villain. The generous hand can also wield the whip, What price goodwill? Transactional friendships tire eventually. Broadcasted voice gone strident, Your red glare rocks the ramparts, Stripes and stars inverted fly. Has your twilight come at last? Or is dawn yet coming, Not as much a rebirth as a lesson: Dark will not endure. Will you again be a giant, But more gallant, More genial, More grounded, And less grinding. With such hands, Giving could be lavish, And still provide comfort at home. No miser has yet carried his savings beyond. Let these times be the pain of g...

  Copping the Disguise   Cop the disguise, Terrorize.   The smiles into eye unentered, Poison penmanship dripping gratitude barbed, Shared experience of shared invention, Doubled faces birthed of troubled graces. Manipulators manage, Missed messages mangled, Mixed messes meddled, Maimers most malevolent.   Cop the disguise, Terrorize.   Led astray by one’s own lead, The path accelerates, Going inward, Getting nowhere. Fly, you fools! Choose your misdirection! Onward, onward! Where have you gone to? Where are you now? Who are you now? You’ll never tell.   Cop the disguise.   Choose your form, What will you do when the label comes off? Unmoored association, Unmasked aberration, Unhinged accumulation, And above all: Constant customization. Can you still hide behind the shine When the chrome has got too soft?   Terrorize.   Presume, present, placate. Practice ...