CliffSongs

  The Errand   The gray expanse covers, The sun hides, The cold, The damp, The permeating despair, A shadow and an oppression. The rider Alone in the haze, Urges his mount steadily forward, Mindful of the beast’s trepidation, And of the senses it employs. He also remains heedful as he can, Sounds deadened, He must rely on sight. Eyes flicking side to side, Striving to pierce the mists, The strain is relentless, Yet he dare not tarry, This passage has an earned reputation, And he would not add his name to its tales. Moreover, his errand will not wait, Its gravity would suffer more than this toil, And the oath he swore drives him through this, And more – Should that be required. He is not sworn to one, But to all, He is a keeper and sentinel, A guardian and watchman, And this day, A messenger. The tidings he bears, Of hope and succor, Of aid unlooked for, Must be delivered to a beleaguered land, Though thi...

  An Ode to the Notes   Music plays my day, Music dreams my night. Do you not know? Every note is a miracle! Precise and evocative, A progression of reverie, A background in trance, Fantasy made concrete in sound! Is it no wonder that your head nods? The imperative speaking to your body, The groove to your soul! Music speaks What we cannot say for ourselves, Music moves us when we cannot stand. It dances in our ears, It pounds in our chests, And we sway unknowing, Uncaring, A freedom granted By little else in this existence. Close your eyes, Feel it carry you beyond, Beyond worry, Beyond fear, Beyond strife, Beyond yourself. How lucky the musician! They live inside the melody, Transported to realms they create, And they carry us along, And feel no weight. Music plays my day, Music dreams my night, And takes me to better places, Than I could find on my own. If there is magic, It is found within the note...

  Mending Moon   The man peered at the dark sky To see the other side of night. A man so lonely He could no longer perceive the light.   But the moon was there, And she would know his plight. As he stared blindly, She sorrowed at the sight.   So, she bathed him all in silver, That she may make his darkness bright. And so, he sat in alabaster, And wondered at a world gone so white.   But the moon said nothing, And nightly continued her flight. So, this man found surprising comfort In the midst of dark and blight.   Now the man can travel once more in day, And marvels that things sometime had gone right. And the moon smiles to herself, And nightly shines on him with all her might.   Cliff Lake 12/20/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Evil Rides   The Prophecy comes around again: The dire warning from the other When. Something emerges from its den, The Prophecy has returned to men.   Evil tides not turned aside, The Horsemen will begin their ride, Long ago there was confide: Evil will be freely plied. Woe to those who will not hear! Evil rides and has come near! Woe to those who cower in fear! We must stand brothers, for what is dear!   The Prophecy comes around again: The dire warning from the other When. No longer in gutters it resides: It’s mounted up and Evil rides!   Hear the wailing as Evil moves! Goodness and Hope crushed under cruel hooves! Will you willingly accept the noose? Is it despair that you would choose? Bend not the knee to the uncouth! You have a sword: it is called Truth! Fear not the poison monied tooth, You hear the words, now bear their proof!   No longer in back rooms its time it bides, It’s mounted u...

  Butterfly Girl   Butterfly girl, Have you seen her Flutter through your world? A changeling, From dark days gone, Butterfly girl, She floats on…   Coming from Some place unknown, She chooses what wind By which she’s blown. She has made her own Silken wings, She flits by the ugly things. Touches you lightly, Then she’s gone, Butterfly girl, Floating on…   Butterfly girl, Have you seen her Flutter through your world, A changeling, From dark days gone, Butterfly girl, She floats on…   Escaping from Constricted place, The whole world now Is her space. Floating by Her smile brings Soothing song To your heartstrings. Bright and airy, Like live chiffon, Lighting the day, Then floating on…   Butterfly girl, Have you seen her Flutter through your world? A changeling, From dark days gone, Butterfly girl, She floats on…   Cliff Lake 12/18/2024 Copyright © Cli...

  Voices Out of Time   A waking hour, Too soon ‘til dawn. A waking mind, That’s droning on. The minutes grind on slow, And I can’t sleep ‘cuz I’m Loudly serenaded By voices out of time.   Voices out of time, And I don’t know If they fit the rhyme. Have they left in tatters, Momentary peace of mind. Or do they speak truly, These voices out of time.   Days I think I had, Nights no longer clear. Faces gone clouded, Blurred by old tears. Hopes faded by reality, Life the uphill climb. Why do I make enquiry Of these voices out of time?   Voices out of time, How can we know If they fit the rhyme? Or will they leave in tatters, Temporary peace of mind Or if they speak truly, These voices out of time.   Cliff Lake 12/18/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Low   The dirty players, The money lords, The mediocre, The small, The grovelers and the mean, They are risen. They have been set in high places, As rulers, Or enforcers of rule, Or as takers of things They will not use themselves. Malingerers and petty in spirit, They will force strange and malignant orders, They will harbor resentment toward the just, The artful, And the innocent, For they are none of these things, And cannot be, For they are poor in mind, And empty in their souls. They are hateful for less reason Than it takes to draw a breath, And they would have even that Were it possible. It is these that have been placed above you, Though they are the lowest of vermin, Unclean in every inch of their being, Unworthy of anything But the basest existence, And they know it. Therefore, they oppress, They deny, They subjugate all not of their kind, And in so doing, Disguise their inadequacy behind title...

  A Farewell to Cowards   Capitulation? No. No, it is an abandonment. It is an abdication. It is cowardice. It is a desertion. We have been left to jackals and slavers, We have been allowed to be absorbed Into a diseased machine, We have been fed corruption, We have been led astray And face the precipice. Those charged with guardianship Have quit their posts, And have yielded to exploitation And extortion. This is the worst malfeasance, An insufferable discard of responsibility, A surrender of morals and duty, A defeat through payola. Such jobbery sickens me. Fearful of their survival, They have chosen poison. They will find themselves eating it daily. They will choke on their lack of vision, Their numbers dwindle as their venality grows, Their desperation as painful as the bruising of their knees, Let their long extinction event, Bring to them the suffering They have allowed to be foist on their subscribers. The ...

  Standing   From the ivory towers, The hidden agenda reveals: It does not include you. From well-guarded gardens We hear the murmur of the accountant, Ensuring the wasting piles of lucre Grow ever more expansive, And used ever less graciously. See how the occupants Of the glass and steel palace Strive to impress each other: Collecting baubles and accoutrement Too precious for public display, Unless under heavy guard. But for all their power and connections, Still they bend the knee To an evil that will not be confined. That they may not give up their thinnest dime, They have loosed upon us A grievous wrong and an ego, That will accept no satisfaction. They quail before this, For it claims the power to end them with a word, And they would hand it such power, As their greed blinds them To what humanity they once held, If ever. Were they banded, They could cage the calamity, But their avarice and desire Separates ea...

  Sailor and Nymph   A sailing man set out the world to explore, Under his own banner and truly free. There upon an unknown shore, He saw a nymph dance beside the Sea.   Possessed she unearthly grace and daring eyes, She swayed and moved to unheard chord. The sailor by nymph mesmerized Invited her to come aboard.   His banners high, they caught the breeze, Together they now sailed the seas. The nymph dancing as she pleased, The sailor free to take his ease.   On the deck of sailor’s boat, The nymph danced morn and afternoon, Above the deck she seemed to float, A dance she danced to call the moon.   But soon in day she seemed to pine, Dancing melancholy and forlorn. Paling ‘neath the bright sun’s shine. But nightly exuberant, dancing ‘til morn.   His ship’s banner caught the light, Light that caused the nymph to swoon, But she would brighten in the night, And she danced best before the moon. ...

  Mysteries   I guess and strain At the ancient mysteries, Enigmatic puzzles and far magics Explained too confidently By persons as far removed From those times as I. Monuments explained in pictograph, Translated by a modern view, Unaided by the original subtleties, Once easily accessed And now lost to time. What untold venerations remain unspoken? What context misapprehended? Are we to believe the clamor of Conquering slavers, Murderers claiming gold not theirs, Colonizers and Unbelievers. What measure of truth Remains to that sort? How can we through their eyes, Revere and resolve tall testaments, They bloodied for their own ends? What persists in misunderstood language? Precise calculation exists side by side with Monstrous characters worshipped in sacrifice. This seems amiss. What understanding is removed? What key to the paradox remains hidden? Monolith and obelisk mock our ignorance, Fortifications and shrin...

  Religiously Right   Once again We are to be troubled By religious persecution. The devout have prosecuted, And they find their judgements Actionable. Who am I to deny Their lust for retribution For sins and crimes, Not enacted against them? They will have individuality Remolded in their image, That they will not be disturbed, By personalities unmired in the miserable. True joy is found by them In fearing the wrath of God. True freedom is achieved Through conformity, Everyone knows that. Sameness makes everything easier, No need to think, No decisions are too hard, Everything is planned in advance, So, get in line, And be like them, And there won’t be any problems. The religious right Absolutely know they are right, Why, it’s in the name! And in the name of Jesus, They’ll get you right, Or else. It’s not persecution, Until it’s happening to you.   Cliff Lake 12/13/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2...

  Lost Muse   Between and behind the veils they are, Banished by greed and ignorance, And a lust for power over all creatures. An eviction enacted through lies and violences, By the unworthy and the uncouth. For long ago was chosen The Path of Iron: Cold, hard, And malleable to the will of small men, Who cannot dream beyond What they would take unbidden. Tricksters they were named, And were depicted of ugly mien, Of as corrupted men, Horned and furious. Once they were guides, Once we had teachers, Muses and spirits, Escorts of The Way. Some hear them whisper yet, Pale voices singing from a coruscating beyond, Giving glimpses of tales wondrous, Their meaning deep woven in parable, That those who would hear, May taste of what was, And what can be, If we could but shake these shackles Binding us and keeping us, When we could be free between the stars, Whence we came in the long before, Before time was twisted, Befo...

  Vibrations   Williams left us the bad days. That’s what’s going on, you know, He left us the bad days. He didn’t build a time machine, Not exactly, He built a time SELECTOR. Maybe more like a filter,   Or maybe it’s like a tuner. Time vibrates. Everything vibrates, Sound, The ground, molecules, It’s all vibration. He figured it out, Williams figured it out: That time vibrates, And that there are good vibrations, And bad ones. Mike Love tried to tell us, But maybe only Williams heard him. Williams built the machine, The filter, Or strainer, Or whatever it is, It showed him the vibrations, But it showed him how to access them as well. So, he did. Once he knew which were good time vibrations, And which were bad, Well… He filtered what he wanted, didn’t he? Grabbed his favorite people and… So here we are. Stuck with what’s left. I’m sure Williams is having the time of his life, He and all his friends....

Dark Path   The dark path, Rocky, Brambled, Shrouded in mists and Noisome fumes, He can go back, But there, It is darker. He forges on. To each side are pitfalls, Into them He has fallen. More than once he has fallen. He has taken bruises, He has been cut, He has taken breaks, But he has not broken. The way is dark yet, He forges on. Has he wished for light? Most assuredly, And the dark has been pierced, Briefly, And sometimes from a distance, And always Dark returns. For this space is darkness surrounding, With brilliant points illuminating, Themselves surrounded. This he sees and He forges on. The path is ever before him, Dark as it is, And trails behind, Where it is so much darker. No matter, He forges on.   Cliff Lake 12/11/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Wichita Walkway   See the greenspaces collect their trash, A convenience unlooked for! Hidden beneath the arbor, One merely lets go, What could be easier? See the Styrofoam cups flower! Such a Quik Trip from the hand to the ground. See the plastic bags wander! Blown on the breezes as leaves From the trees they would smother. See the pop cans sparkle! Crushed underfoot by the manly. What exquisite reminders of carelessness. How the squirrels must envy our crafts! Perhaps they will nest In the discarded clothing items, yes? Perhaps the cardboard containers Were just what they needed. How fortunate is Nature, That we trash her freely, So that small creatures May make use of our poisons, Our detritus, Our ignorance. Perhaps if there were more walkways, We could stop recycling altogether! What a bright future is ours!   Cliff Lake 12/10/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  More or Less   The world is stupid. Not the one we live on – Nothing makes more sense Once understood. The stupid part Is the part we made, The one that’s supposed to be More comfortable, More comforting, More convenient, And instead has been reduced to simply “More” More people, More damage, More heat, More garbage. Yet somehow more have less than ever. Less freedom, Less opportunity, Less security, Less help. As we ravage the planet more, The prospect of her recovery becomes less. And we couldn’t be more stupid about it. Still, those with more, Wish we would talk less of the stupidity, And work more, For less. And the stupid among us, Couldn’t care less. Because all they want is More. They cannot see That as time goes on, They will pay more, And get less. Though I believe they will get more stupid… And continue to be careless.   Cliff Lake 12/9/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Puppets and Master   Puppet master, will you fail faster? Are your webs blown on the breeze? Your fingers buried in too many pies, Your minions rise off their knees.   Puppet master, what new disaster Creeps closer to minareted castle? Puppet master, you old spellcaster, You’ve lost another vassal.   What happens as they dance harder? No longer docile underlings. What have you left to barter? Choking on the puppet’s strings.   Puppet master, democracy blaster, Will you need to grow some wings? Puppet master, better choose your pasture, The world has had enough of kings.   What happens as they dance harder, Are you going through some things? One less mouth in the larder, Your puppets cutting their strings.   Cliff Lake 12/8/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Rollertoasted   He tells you to watch what THEY are doing, With his hand in your pocket again. It’s the same old bait and switch, You have been falling for since I don’t know when.   Everyone else is a THEM these days, A factoid requiring nothing like proof. Shady rhetoric all draped in gray, A mockery and inversion of truth.   This is the ride you wanted: A rollercoaster gone far beyond the track. This is the collide you wanted, The crash is coming and it’s too late to turn back.   Watch the lords of collusion line up, They know where their bread is buttered. Watch as they get their noses shined up, Knowing what the deal was with the first words uttered.   You traded freedom for snide remarks: It’s oligarchy for the win! Now you start to see things as they go dark, The Great Oppression is about to begin.   This is the ride you wanted: A rollercoaster gone far beyond the track. This is the col...

  Grind   The minions sing the phrases taught them By the Witless Wizard as he spins wrong legends round, The chorus that blinds them eagerly, To the machine that grinds them down.   The Wandering Warden berates them as he will, And lets his hounds howl at every unwanted sound. And goads the people to dig frantically for the fuel That fires the machine that grinds them down.   The Callous Crows that haunt the House, So casually they trash the town. They feather their nests with their own foul, Working the levers of the machine grinding down.   Gray Lady and her matrons Selling the wrong words in ever-tattered gown, Their knees scabby and bloody, As they service the machine that ground them down.   The Jargon Jurists jockey for Judas coin, See their noses go brown. They waylay the justice they wield, Greasing the gears of the machine in which they’re ground.   Somewhere the eagle may soar high above,...