CliffSongs

  Advisements for the Guiltless   Hey there, Grumpy Gus, Got your best same suit on? Got your frown on your face? Well then, you’re ready…   Make a statement on the courthouse steps, Be sure to sneer When mispronouncing the judges’ name. Defame the jury anonymously, That way the charges can’t stick. Do you have any pictures Of the prosecutors relatives? Hand those out freely As proof of your goodwill. Make certain to deride the proceedings, No more viable demonstration of virtue Is there than insult, Everyone knows that. Your fervid proclamations of innocence, Will surely be bolstered, By threats and intimidation, So, you must bluster angrily, And scowl fiercely. And let us not forget the efficacy Of endless complaint, Grousing, grumbling, and griping, Are most welcome in the courts, Making you appear strong, invincible. Remember, it’s the dog that whines, That gets fed best. So, whine like a dog, dawg. Finally, one must

  Reflection   I remember that one time, That time long ago. But the memory is in black and white, Full of people I no longer know. Memories of sunshine, And the memory of rain. And the memories of places I can never go back again.   How is time like a river, If you cannot fish from one place? What does time really deliver, And what does it erase?   Where is the person you were yesterday? Have you discarded them so? Have you kept nothing of what you were? Have you really let them go?   I remember that one time, That time long ago. But the memory is in black and white, Full of places I no longer go. Memories of sunshine, And the memory of rain. And the memories of people I may never go back again.   How many relationships were riven, Have they disappeared with no trace? How many slights were forgiven, Are their brand carved in your face?   How has time handled you, How have you managed your time? How has life scan

  The Way Back   Look at you cringing from the smallest change, Things haven’t gotten that far out of range. Our existence isn’t so full of dread, Why do you listen to the talking heads?   Their hyperbole doesn’t bear examination, They deal in panic, not information. They have you convinced it’s never their fault, Keeping you on edge and prepared for assault.   There is no way back, The future is here. Things have not gotten off track, It’s change that you fear. Ahead of you is just another day, It’s not some personal attack. There’s always a better way, There is no way back.   You want to go back to “the way things were”, Less informed and more polluted you prefer? Your doctor performing bloodletting with leeches, And the seasons explained by what some guy preaches?   You’re letting hustlers and swindlers tell you what to think, Bringing this nation closer to the brink. Why put your mind in the hands of some hack, Riding your b

  Tears for They That Hold   Putin-defiant they stand, Though genocide looks on them bold. A bulwark they are, The stop against the ravage. Yet in that, Are they ravaged themselves, Yet they toil on! Distant sisters and brothers, They would be forsaken by orators, Who lose nothing, Save the errant mouse-click or two, By the least read among us, Who tell they would withhold succor, In Jesus name. What shame is this! Daily my thoughts turn eastward, But mindfulness and bullets, Are often estranged. How do I coerce the already-bought, That they may do their duty, And throw off their cowardice, And become human once more? Why do they choose craven negation? Why do they deny empathy? What sort of creatures must they be, That they allow an entire nation to be bled, While the entire world watches? Slava Ukraini! You are not forgotten, Though for this time denied. We see you, Ukraine! We hear you Ukraine! We weep for you Ukraine

  The Door   A sullen crew, Hot and worn from long labor, Now rested in the hole, Scraped in the side of the mountain, The hole with the impossible door at the end, The door that was right where he said it should be. The captain of these ruffians was erranding. None could speak on the hour of his return, Not even the cook’s son, A madman, and captain’s ward.   The door. Disturbing symbols were carved on that stone, Disturbing not because they could not be read, But because it seemed they could be understood, Almost, But the mind would not accept their meaning. Thus these rowdies would not lounge near on it, For fear of lingered spell, Made on it in some forgotten when, Save that cook’s son, captain’s ward, And madman.   That one stood before the entry closed, Tracing the writing with a finger, Which was unnerving, And whispered to himself guessed meaning, Which was maddening, And sometimes giggled and turned pointing, And wo

Social Mania   Elmo-bro becomes upset. His eyebrow begins to twitch. From two years ago replies I get - All I said was “Tax the rich.”   In the past that was the plan, But the Elmo-bros suddenly bitch. Why so protective, Elmo-stan? Why should we not tax the rich?   Tax the rich, corporate or man, Tax the rich, please understand, Tax the rich, why don’t you see, That way lies true equality.   What is it these devotees haven’t learned? Why are their attitudes so one-sided? What has prompted the sudden concern, Of the worshippers misguided?   Are we to remain so trusting To heavy-handed media social That these big corps avoid busting, Because some fans may go postal?   Tax the rich, corporate or man, Tax the rich, please understand, Tax the rich, why don’t you see, That way lies true equality.   Cliff Lake 4/9/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024   #TaxTheRich

  Call of the Drudge   In homes throughout the land, Bells ring, Buzzers buzz, And beepers beep, Dragging a population out of sleep, To face the gray morose of Monday.   In kitchens nearly everywhere, Begins the ubiquitous ritual of brew, While in some that is accompanied By the crack of egg, The surprise thwack of the toaster, Or the innocent rattle Of preformed grain hitting the bowl, Soon to be glazed by too much sugar, Then shoveled into bodies too small To contain the coming energy slam.   Many homes harbor anxious pets, Now purposely underfoot, Hoping to delay a routine They both do not understand, Nor can appreciate. Their upright companions will be gone, Long empty hours, And will be in need of much comfort, Upon their return. It is a puzzle unsolved over and again.   Now doors slam, And locks snick, And engines cough, Their poisoning essence behind them, And the drudge unsatisfied, Regains its hold. Anot

  The Paladin’s Day   The wide-brimmed hat was a convenience, Offering both shade,   And anonymity. He had no need of concealment, Not much leastwise, But he had less need of publicity. He was not as known to these hills, As he might be, but the Barrens, Were no place for the fool’s errand. For his kind were not welcome in these parts, And the trail he followed, Was not called Rogue’s Road for naught. Here one kept one’s wits sharp, And the blade sharper. Here there be monsters, Though they wore the guise of men, And he had been called to do a dispatch, A duty and an aid he did not much mind. The crone had given precise description, 5 years’ service now, with two remaining, Yet the reward promised, Was more than he had sought. His quarry was downwind, Unwashed for weeks spoke his nose, And the nag he’d borrowed, Was more offended still, Balking at the approach. He would dismount soon, His was a stealthier advance than any beas

  Nickel Man   Have you met the nickel man? Shiny and hard, and sharply presented at first, But dull and scratched and indistinct with use.   Have you seen the nickel men? Brittle when thin, easily bent from true form, Coarse when fat and often in the way.   Low-valued they are, But widely in use, Added in when needed for the full measure.   Wearers of the cheap suit, Shoes just that side of burnished, The buzz word finds their mouth easily.   Do you know a nickel man? Third cousin, beer near to hand, Working on the next divorce.   The favor he asks, Character witness, Sour butter would be a preferred flavor.   Are you too close to a nickel man? The required distance is avoidance, It only gets greasy when you shake hands.   Where do you find the nickel men? Writing law that will not affect them, Or producing the reality TV.   They may be under your car, Installing the used oil filter, Or interwebbed, selling “vinta

  Maiden West Wind   She first saw him long ago, Graceful, regal, Clothed in the finest shimmering black, It was not then that she lost her heart, For she gave it freely.   She spoke to him softly in that springtime, A whisper and a beckoning, A warm caress she became, Calling in the morning, or at sunset, Though he appeared not to hear.   But maiden West Wind was steadfast, For she would have him lift his wing, And take her under lofting gently, Sailing the skies, As he sailed the waters below.   The days grew warmer as they must, And summer approached all eager, And to him came another, And she was as graceful as he, And of his like.   Then did maiden West Wind grow wrathful, For she had warmed the grasses for him, And had borne warm rains to him, And carried away smokes and dusts, And he noticed her not.   Now his affections were given to that white swan, So like to him and unlike, So that maiden West Wind could not

  App Rope React   What is it that’s driving the need, For an app for everything today? Is it necessary to have electronics, Report on stuff I could otherwise say? Do I really needs to record The hairs growing from my nose? Or determine the relative heat, Of the fungus between my toes? Who needs such information, Is it really that bugbear Big Brother? Or is it simply helicoptering, By your overbearing mother? I hesitate to think government oversight, Has become so intrusive that it Needs to know your pants are too tight. Are we to become a hivemind senseless drone A groupthink multicell population Interconnected by a handheld phone? I mean to say what is coming next, What is happening to romance When too many are having sex by text? And why on earth should I have to pay The cell phone company For some damn beeper to tell me to get up today. Or that I should refuel the car, And check the oil, headlight fluids, I know where those stup

  Core Belief   What stranger times have these days been, Than others you have been to? Did you think you would make it then? But see what you have been through. What trouble there did you surmount, Some trial unforeseen? What unknown strength did you discount, What backbone un-routine? See now, you have come this far, And yes, future awaits – But life comes at you all bizarre, None of us perceive our fates. Fear not extraordinary news, Such has it ever been. No need for panic’s spooking cues, Straighten your spine again. Fortitude has kept your stand, Though you do not remember how. You lived through things all unplanned, You’ll live through them again now. Look in your mirror at eyes steadfast, That do not look away. Look at you and know at last, You can survive the day. I leave you with this last word, Thought it’s already said: Fear not the things you may have heard, Remember your own strength instead.   Cliff Lake 4/5/2

  Shield   Hush my child, still your fear, Nothing evil may come near. What saves us from corruption’s thrall? The Hinder Mountains standing tall!   See them standing in their might, They do more than just block light, For over them strange things do dwell, Over them are creatures fell.   There men ride on wicked steeds, On their way to wicked deeds. And worship gods we do not know, And practice craft for all men’s woe.   Their women witches, making spells, To cast unwary to certain hells. Their hounds you also should not meet, With slavered jaw and razored feet.   Monsters there are of frightening size, With poison claws and glaring eyes. Such things would surely bring our loss, But the Hinder Mountains they cannot cross.   Many men have climbed those peaks, They bore witness of what I speak. Vicious tribes that live down there, Less like men and more like bear.   Hairy beastlike creatures they, What more they are I wil

  Moonwalker   Moonwalkers passed my window tonight, Shadow-bright tread in silver light. Calling on fireflies to show hidden way, To escape tedium that binds us to day.   Raiment woven of colors of stars, Passing some close to me, passing too far. Move under night, darkness at bay, Whispered secrets that clearly say:   “Come with us, do come away. You’re not meant for the day, Drop your cares, October, May, or June, Walk with us beneath the moon.”   I lay all night watching in the gathered deep, I lay all night watching, not chasing sleep. I let the timeclock rule me that day, While dreaming of that silent-sung lay:   “Drop the yoke that on you weighs, Join our pearl-lit ballet. Forget hours, their drudging hewn, Take your place under the moon.”   I’ve closed the books and quit the race, The moon has promised to hold my place. I chase the moon-path, and must not stray, In the distance hear the tune play:   “Follow this so

Johnny Redhat   Where are you marching to, Johnny Redhat? Did ya get a new tattoo? Wearing decorations waved in 1939, Are you prepared to be a loser too? Have you convoluted all your logic, Have you unread your Bible yet? Aiding and abetting stupid shit With a hint of violence to make you wet.   What’s that bumper sticker, Johnny, Is that a crucifix and gun? Will you make the streets red with someone’s blood, Is that your idea of fun? What’s that you’re singing, Johnny Redhat, A tune they made inside a jail? Are you marching to a conviction, Are you moving toward your fail?   What did you buy from him, Johnny, A two-dollar bill that you paid twenty, A bobblehead maybe, or just a pin, Or a digital drawing that rooked you plenty? What are you hoping for, Johnny Redhat? Real representation from someone in the House, Changes for good at last, for you and yours, Or permission to remain a louse?   What’s the endgame here, Johnny Redha

  Share Shear   My compliments, you bought the dream. Paid up front to join the team. But things are quickly losing steam, Gosh! It’s just another money scheme!   Your money’s better stuffed in a sock, Or buy magic beans and climb their stalk, Than for you to take some stock, Guaranteed a falling rock.   Didja buy some pump and dump? Didja fund someone’s economic slump? Didja take it in the rump? Does the mirror show you a chump?   Did you think you would get rich quick? Are you looking for the uptick? Did you try to float a brick? Does this swine need more lipstick?   Maybe you are smarter than me. Maybe profit eventually. Maybe you will dance with glee, And maybe pigs will fly carefree.   Didja buy some pump and dump? Didja fund someone’s economic slump? Didja take it in the rump? Does the mirror show you a chump?   Cliff Lake 4/2/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Hidden Ass Set   Glorying in rallies past, Now they try to keep his ass, Under wraps, away from view, To hide he doesn’t have a clue.   Glitchy, glitchy, always bitchy, And always with the money pitchy. Can he keep his tongue untangled, Keep the facts from getting mangled?   Or will he traipse on gaily, Repeating that name Nikki Haley? Or create some real drama, And campaign against Obama?   And in the speech sometime later, Say he wants to be potater. While he’s up there, sell a shoe, Or a signed Bible or two?   So handlers keep him away, Afraid of what he just might say, I agree I must confide, A Donald Trump’s something to hide.   Cliff Lake 4/1/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  90 Second Mushroom   Third wife labors, partake of party favors, Engaging in triple X palaver. Just a sweating moment in time, A campaigning preface of crime.   If only you had been more demure, 30 big ones, and more to transfer, What further charges will you incur? Too late, we all know that you were:   Cheating on your hooker with a porn star. Never mind we can’t find where your morals are. Maybe Bible sales can raise the bar, Since you cheated on your hooker with a porn star.   How long before you choke on the gag, How long are you going to be such a drag? This is what you get for being a dirtbag, That you somehow let slip in a brag, That you were:   Cheating on your hooker with a porn star. Never mind we can’t find where your morals are. Maybe Bible sales can raise the bar, Since you cheated on your hooker with a porn star.   Your foresight always too short, Your IQ always down a quart, You always were a scurvy sort, N

  Sunset   What thought do you give to a setting sun, Life’s fire fading, To allow the creep of darkness, And unsure vision once more. What promise have you of morning, Save the mechanics of the unrelenting universe, A stately march irrevocable, Unguided by the hand of man. Are you so trusting then, In things that have always been, That there is no monstrous will, Capricious and unknowable, That will not stay this range, This hurtling progress, That reaches nowhere, That is everywhere? Too often have we stumbled upon the unknown, Surprised of our ignorance, Finding ourselves more lost than ever In the growing expanse. Yet ever do we forge forth, With prejudiced purpose, Confident in knowledge mistaken, Unproven and disassembled in discovery, And having fallen, Get up once more, Certain of our capacity. Still, the sun sets on our puny toys, So destructive, yet the source of our pride, As we careen through a vastness, We lon

  A Foul Passing   It stands before them mouthing dire prophecy, It would enact should it come to that. Thus it feeds on the adulation of the unclean, Made soiled by their own hand. For its soul is empty, Or gone altogether, Sacrifices have been made. More are to come. And they stand before it, Willing and desperate, Needful of meaning.   They sacrifice compassion for ideals of cruelty, Reveling in drama they create for themselves. Hollow lives drawn in neon and tinfoil, Too aware they are ingenuine. For their souls are empty, Or are sold outright. Sacrifices have been made, And they will give more yet, Desperate for meaning.   So they follow their silicon savior, More plastic than themselves. For it represents what they cannot be, As it too cannot be, As it too is false, As it too has nothing, Is nothing, Just a voice made of smoke and foul wind, Dissipating and seen through at last. Loudly it cries against the reveal