CliffSongs

  Poem for One of the Lost   The tide rolls in. Have you stopped it? The stars shine. Light from a billion miles, And a billion years, Do they go unseen? Would you wish it so? Would that darken them? You cannot stop the wind, You cannot stop the rain. What then are you? Just one more life, yes? A life that if it were not to exist, To be extinguished, Cut off, Or simply never lived, Would not have kept the sun from shining, Or the moon hung so prettily. Yet here you are. You had no say in that. You were conceived, Carried, And then born without your consult, And no form submitted for your approval. And in spite of the life you are, The world turns. Others are born, Their lives are lived, And they may not know that you do also, Yet they live. There are some that know of you. And their lives may have begun before yours, And some after, And will probably continue were you suddenly gone. But that doesn’t matter. For y

  Ballad of the Loser   Here is the story of Teflon Don, Red-blooded, All-American big-time con. Here is the story of lifetime crime, And how he was convicted and it’s about time.   Somehow he could go White House wandering, After fined for money laundering, And somehow was not largely shunned, After pilfering from a children’s cancer fund.   This is the story about Teflon Don, 34 counts down and we’ll press on. Still haven’t been tried for all your crime, Think you should think about some downtime.   Voted in after repeated racist attack, This pussy-grabbing rapist maniac. And after misappropriating the campaign chest, Republicans still didn’t send their best.   Mocking disabled and veterans alike, Out in the open setting up a Reich. Selling cheap baubles to keep up the grift, And the minions never know how much they’ve been stiffed.   The continuing story of Teflon Don, 34 counts down and we’ll press on. New York had always kn

  Johnny  Dead   Apt pupil, Johnny learned the lesson of Value early. He learned that owning the best made him better. Better than others, Better than most, Better than you. Johnny was better, And he did not allow anyone to forget it. Johnny drove the best car, To the best school, With the best girlfriend, To learn the best profession, To buy the best home, In the best neighborhood, And have the best wedding, To breed the best children. When Johnny was fifty, He got the best cancer, And died fast. He had the best funeral. And Johnny stayed dead. Johnny’s relatives all hired the best lawyers, To divide the best of Johnny’s erstwhile, As they saw best. Now, those former possessions were held in escrow, To gather dust, To gather rust, To become obsolete, No longer necessary, But still solicited. But Johnny stayed dead. He was very good at it. But really, No better than any other dead... The competition is rather fierc

  Dawn   Dawn. Pink hues, And gathering light, What is the promise of the new day? For the earth only spins, Revealing the sun, And neither speaks of promise, Nor much else. Pretty dawn! It’s delicate paintbrush colors the airs, Is that not some assurance of… Something? For does not dawn reappear again, In spite of your worries, Your troubles, your disasters? What may that signify? Anything? Mayn’t this simply be the dry workings, Of a universe too large to be affected By your fanciful inventions? Or is the skies’ chroma repeated The pact you seek, An avowal of the continuation of being, And of your place here, In spite of any missteps. For, dear reader, here you are, And here I am, And both of us have strayed beyond our dreams. That is life, And this is living, And here you are. The tide rolls, The rain falls, And the sun sets… And returns at dawn. The promise of dawn is simply: That you may accomplish yoursel

  Day   WAKE UP! Time to be PRODUCTIVE! Get that television blaring, citizen! Today’s force-feed is just begun! More sugar! More caffeine! More running in place! Shove sugar into the kids! Send them screaming off! Find the keys! Find the keys! FIND THE KEYS! Off you go! It’s DAYTIME! It’s WORKTIME! It’s not YOUR time! Find the parking spot! Find the parking spot! FIND THE PARKING SPOT! Quick now! LOG IN CITIZEN! Read the email! Make the spreadsheet! ATTEND MEETING! LUNCH! Memo, memo, memo! Send the email! Adjust the spreadsheet! NO OVERTIME! Shuttle the kids! Order dinner! Collect the kids! Feed the dog! GET THAT TELEVISION GOING! More input! Less thinking! DO NOT WASTE THE DAY! Produce, produce, PRODUCE! We are counting on YOU! Anything less is FAILURE! You are ESSENTIAL!   Until you aren’t… And then you’ll wake up.   Cliff Lake 5/29/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Dusk Dusk. It’s changelight wavering. The uncertain time. The thin time. The precarious time. There! Some thing has moved at the corner of vision! No, perhaps not… But… Certain sounds are louder, Aren’t they? In such dubious light, The ear is more reliable, yes… Yes? The crack of a twig! The scurry of small feet! The long silence and The footfall. No. Surely not. This vague light has bewildered your hearing. Such imaginings… Footfall. Closer. Dusk is the thin time, And something May have come through. Look! Up ahead! Your porch, and home, Yet unlit… Footfalls. A slight stumble on the stairs and Silly! You have dropped your keys and A long shadow falls across them. Too thin. Too tall. Too dark. But the sun is gone and Shadow is impossible and Suddenly Your keys are much too far away.   Cliff Lake 5/28/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Night   Night surrounds. No! do not deny it! Night surrounds. The stars, yes, they tell it, For they but pierce the dark, But do not overcome. Even the moon gives way, She returns, Only to be overborn again. Night surrounds. In the day we strive, But with ease of heart, For the brave sun lends us comfort, And shows clearly those things That are not shadowed, For night is ever with us. Night surrounds. Why fear the dark? Is it not a natural state? You may take your rest there, In the cool and the quiet, When one may hear their mind, Too loud for some. In the undistracted dark, Some secrets may no longer hide, For the gloom is their element, And they are darker yet… Invasive light! In the sparkle and dazzle, We may astonish and amaze, Obscuring what dim lies within. We may confound even ourselves, But in the deep reaches of eventide, Silence exposes. Night surrounds. It need not disquiet, If one is willing, T

  Rubber Chicken Blues   Well, it was off to the LNC, take those kids to school, Gonna talk them Libbatarrymens into your pricktater rule, Looks like they think you are just a big tool, You ended up exposing yourself as a really big fool.   No MAGA stuffing, out there on your own. How did it feel to be up there alone? You kinda just wrote your own tombstone, Maybe the next one you will postpone.   You couldn’t be heard above the boos, They ain’t no MAGA, they can’t be schmoozed. How you gonna heal that ego bruise? You got those Libertarian rubber chicken blues.   You stopped with a crash on the campaign trail. Thirty minutes in you had to bail. Showing the world that you’re sure to fail. What will this do to an ego so frail?   You really bombed there, what’s the excuse? Your own fault you didn’t pick up on the cues. You could go back, but what’s the use? Always got those Libertarian rubber chicken blues.   Cliff Lake 5/26/2024 Cop

  Currents   Hear now son, tale seldom told, Of rivermen both brave and bold, And hear also, the riversong, And how the current is swift and strong.   Once upon this river wide, Barges rowed by men were plied, Against strong current they strode, Barges swift and deep they rowed.   And one such barge bore Captain’s boast: His men rowed faster than most. So, he made this statement bold: He would bet his barge against any gold.   They did row the river wide, From the mountains to the tide. Now the stream flows swift and strong, To the currents they belonged.   Now, many captains thought they were best, They resolved this boast to test. From pier to pier a race would go, To declare which barge was the swiftest row.   So soon they came upon the day, To settle which captain could say, Which barge swiftest rode river wide, Which barge could course with pride.   See the barges under the morning sun, See them straining for the st

  Little Miss Darkshine   Oh no, here she comes again, Out from where the shadows sing. Showing up from another then, Won’t say what she’s offering.   Just another past maybe, Speaking things in secret sign. Another lover wannabe: Your little ray of Darkshine.   Here she comes, watch out below! Making promise you’ll never know. Always fronting, leaves you behind, No use confronting Little Miss Darkshine.   Talks in circles, watch you spin! Going silent for weeks again. Makes up plans, but won’t say when, Disappears just as you go all-in.   Just another never be, Never was by her design. Never that possibility, You can’t have Little Miss Darkshine.   Here she comes, watch out below! Making promise you’ll never know. Always fronting, leaves you behind, No use confronting Little Miss Darkshine.   Cliff Lake 5/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Law and Disorder   They assemble outside the bench, These carrion crows eager, Squawking their ugly cries, In service to the vulture silenced, Who would have them, At the next meal. Once they proudly stood, Behind shield and service, And honor bound in blue… Now they believe in the law, That is unto themselves, And may be discarded at need. Mouthing argument contrary to evidence, Alleging ideas unsupported by statute, Must we trust these yet, To legislate in good faith? These servile, Underlings to a base delinquent, These are to establish just rule? They are an oxymoron in practice. They reveal their desire: Lawless authority, Reckless domination, Tyranny. So, they defend the brute, That they wish they could be. Cowards all. They speak against the laws, Their party once praised before all else, And become transparent, Easily seen, No more smoke, Just the mirrors, That reflect their duplicity. They assemble outsi

  The Evercycle   Amassed in the imperfect void, Imperfect, for they are within. They await the evercycle, And their return.   Their slow confinement shall cease, And they shall descend on Man, With promise of ancient terror – Retribution for daring to live.   Gods they were, and gods they are, Cast out or cast aside, What does it matter? Here in the endless reaches they have hated.   Here the evercycle turns, As it does in all Creation, And though they have naught of patience, Still, they have waited.   How their imps have slipped the curtain, They know not, Nor have they occasion to care, It is enough to see the disruption.   They have seen that turmoil, The anticipated spiraling descent, The apathy of Man, As the Faithful have grown few.   For they have been watching, O, they have watched long and long. And they calculate the weaknesses, And they make plan.   The evercycle turns, And the barrier will be thru

  Congratulations, Hannibal Lecter!   Congratulations, Dr. Lecter, We wish you all the best. You truly are the best selecter, To choose a dinner guest.   And what about the mighty Sauron? His praises we will sing! Even though less water trickles, To make his bathtub Ring.   Let’s not forget dead Cthulhu, He’s dead and dreaming still. Probably he died of cancer, From dangerous windmills.   We must honor Dracula, With great impunity! Being that he’s dead already, He’s got immunity!   And don’t we just love Pennywise? One of Maine’s greatest prides. He can help us to surmise, There’s good people on both sides.   Yes, let us celebrate these mighty ones, And how strong they make us look! We take pride they’re on our side… Whadda ya mean they’re just from books?   Cliff Lake 5/14/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Rogues   They gather secluded, To plot and end, Tyranny they had hand in enacting, Now too grievous, Too pervasive, And becoming bloody. Rogues they are, But valiant enough, When the wolves are howling, Too close to the fences. Little trust is found among them, Or might be in wholesome times, But ravers are in the Ministry, And the maniac holds court, So, enmity is put aside: Comrades in desperation. Now they speak on dangerous things, Plans and contingencies, Tactics and strategies, Proposals, schemes, methods, Tricks, if needed. All the while, Hoping tenuous trust, Is not prelude to treachery. For these times have taught, That fear may turn any acquaintance, Into a rat bent on survival, Or a viper intent on advancement. So here is the uneasy tryst, Where there is hope, That no one gets screwed. The conclave ends, No handshakes here, The steady eye is more secure. They slip into the night, So that they may sav

  Conspire Required   No one really knows just how I feel inside. Half my information is twisted and cockeyed. My psyche evaluation I think I can confide: Tried to feed my brain worm but it’s gone and died.   I’m feeling so much better since I quit sniffing glue. I’m feeling so much smarter since I joined the queue. I feel my understanding has now really grew, After I quit bothering to think things through and through.   What I really need is conspiracy! I’ll never know that ignorance is feeding me. Can’t understand what you say to me, Government control and my gun makes three, What we need in here is conspiracy.   If I don’t understand it, then there is some big plan, By the men in black; it’s so goddam underhand. Which new products should be secretly banned, And do I still need to keep my testicles tanned?   So much information that I need to ignore, So many covert pamphlets in my underwear drawer. Am I the only one that really knows

  Wormy   Bobby Junior does not try to hide, Gleefully he does confide, About the worm that got inside, Where it starved and then it died.   O Bobby K, will you eat some more? Will into your brain they bore? What tales will you have in store? These yarns you spin we just adore!   Bobby K, sounding so wormy. Conspiracies going all squirmy. Might be due for taxidermy. Bobby K has gotten wormy.   Marjorie stances so infirm: Cannot see beyond the short-term. Speaker Johnson reconfirmed, Marjorie is just a worm.   The House moves on appliances, In support of their oil alliances. Never mind the warning of sciences, The energy worms squirming defiances.   House Gop, acting so wormy. Conspiracies going all squirmy. Might be due for taxidermy. The House GOP has gotten wormy.   Cliff Lake 5/9/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  The Venomist   She seethes. A poisoned flower, Her homage lures the unsuspecting. Yet she seethes. Sly eyed beneath the adulation, The plotting roils, A simmer of ego long damaged. The royal “We” injected, She brooks no challenge, To assumed authority. An elevation appropriated, Rising on the warmest airs. And she seethes. Conflated argument proposed, The double-down follows quickly. A verification errored often, The miscued validation, Volume is a requisite, Restate, rehash, replay: Irritation on offense. Insecurity sharpens her fangs, Venoms carefully curated, Delivered, Then the outraged retreat, Princess of victimization. No flower then, but viper, The ambush attack dependent on camouflage, On the disarming word. Litigant-in-waiting, Making pretty noises, And coiling for the strike. She seethes… Watch your ass.   Cliff Lake 5/8/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Quid Pro No   Hello Mr. Johnson, we hear from you again, We wondered where you might have been. And what really what went on when, You visited the Palm Beach playpen.   It really looked like you did not stoop low, That you would not simply cave and follow. But it seems like all the rest you’re a domino, You got yourself involved in a quid pro quo.   Down to Dimlyworld did you go, For some give and take we shouldn’t know, Grant a little bill just for show, Then close ranks: the quid pro quo.   Holding the defendant on high, We see now how you comply. To usher in Church and State you try, And knowingly watch democracy die.   So now your hand you early show, Your chips are thrown, all in you go. You claim the light, but choose shadow, Is this just for spite, your quid pro quo?   Down to Dimlyworld did you go, For some give and take we shouldn’t know, Grant a little bill just for show, Then close ranks: the quid pro quo.   C

  Shiny   He did not often wonder, At the sum of his life, There was no need, He accumulated. Once, he collected friends, But promises are cheap, Or are not meant to be kept, Or are simply forgotten, And circumstance intervenes. His friends grew less, or, Grew away, or, Were less than friendly. Such is life, Such is time, And who can explain either? So, He accumulated. He acquired things. Many were of value, Others were of memory redolent, Unmarketable, And yet dear. Uncatalogued, They suffered permanent arrangement, Suffuse with subjective situation, Patterned for only one recognition, Yet not disorderly. Crowded collection, It was tended. His days became a shuffle of cleaning, A dustman in dotage. There were moments. Memories lit by a sunbeam, Times of a deepening past illuminated. Then, On a day, He let go, Passing into the long sleep. Not many days after, He was found among his clutter. Everything w

  Kristi Clear   Keep on stirring up the wrath, Keep muddying information. Traveling down the psycho path, Wanting to infect a nation. Push the vote down the wrong track, Keep up the agitation. Put your people on the psycho path, Insuring our damnation.   Governing the low riffraff, So many below your station. The written word; such a gaffe, Writing of a retaliation. Publishing your epitaph, So full of implication. Run full tilt on the psycho path, Away from that dogged fixation.   “Conserving freedom”, what a laugh, The people’s rights your predation. Only working on your behalf, Leaving voters in frustration. Treating lives like they’re chaff, Surprised at our indignation. You’re too far down the psycho path, Look at your career’s cessation.   Cliff Lake 4/30/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Garden of the Queen's Pleasure   The Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, Where the tapestries are spread, Here you may take your leisure, Or a man may lose his head.   In the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, Many questions will be asked. And tea is served that loosens tongue, Many truths are then unmasked.   In the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, The courtiers eyes are hard. They act instant on her whim, You must be on your guard.   From the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, You may not make it through, A dozen men had entered once, But came out only two.   In the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, Your loyalty is dear. One misstep or the wrong word, Will be met with tip of spear.   In the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, Many men there do swing. Survive the Queen altogether, You may be brought before the King.   In the Garden of the Queen's Pleasure, Many tapestries are spread. Here is taken you

  Pieces of Blue   Two paths that both lead away, One is light, the other gray. But in the moment, Who can say? Wandering off to be astray.   Taking too long one way to choose. A series of sad and bad miscues. But in the moment, Obscured views, Wandering off to gradually lose.   Pieces of another time, Pieces that were left behind. A peace perhaps I never knew, I fall to pieces when I think of you…   A life of memories amassed, Some best left long in the past. But in this moment, A dark contrast, The peace I left has now long passed.   Pieces of another time, Pieces that were left behind. A peace perhaps I never knew, I fall to pieces when I think of you…   Cliff Lake 4/28/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Almost    When the dark descends, And he can blend in, That’s when you’ll find him wanderin’. Just slightly off-pace, One step out of place, He’s okay, he’s just wanderin’.   He’s not quite fashionable, Or following trends, He has his ways, And he doesn’t unbend. He listens a lot, And tells less than he knows. A friend and a stranger, Both more and less than you suppose.   When the dark descends, And he can blend in, That’s when you’ll find him wanderin’. Just slightly off-pace, One step out of place, He’s okay, he’s just wanderin’.   Who is this wanderin’ in? He was here and gone. A face from another when, Who wandered in, then on. Someone that you almost touched, But slipped away like mist. A faded memory, That somehow still persists.   When the dark descends, And he can blend in, That’s when you’ll find him wanderin’. Just slightly off-pace, One step out of place, He’s okay, he’s just wanderin’.   He

  The Wood   His feet carry him into the wood, As they had yesterday, As they had so often and again. He did not know what had been lost, He did not know if it would be found again. Fairie glamour, or dream, or both, That guide his steps, To carry him Into the wood. Here he may catch a passing scent, Or a glimmer just past the eye, And faint laughter mischievous, Though something less than petty. Here he had found… Something… Someone… For a day perhaps, Or many nights, So unclear why he drifts Into the wood.   Daily she watches, He wanders these days, Lost to her, Or to himself. Once she caught his eye, And still he catches hers, Most days at least, When she sees him, When he remains in town, And has not yet stumbled Into the wood. She knows not what he seeks, As he does not know, But her heart is certain He will find more than he needs, In her eyes, In her arms, In a life that is theirs, Where she is now

  The Cargo   The captains’ burden plagued him, Though much silver had crossed the palm, A cargo unspoke betrayed him, Yet they must be sailing on.   His thought oft turned to that below, And heroic rescue schemes. But captain was his duty so, He turned away from these dreams.   But nightly did his mission need, To serve in obligation, For more than pay must he now heed, Or be doomed to his damnation.   For in the secret hold below, A temptation far too sweet. And in her eyes her sorrow too, That this way they should meet.   For she was of the royal sort, And promised to a king. And must be borne to foreign court, To stave off war’s red sting.   But here they’d found on open sea, Their hearts would speak to each. But promises made for the peace: A gulf too far to breach.   The captain’s burden flayed him, He hoped the wind may die, Just one more day of sailing, And gaze in her loving eye.   The harbor lies before

  The Reading   The solemn company rides, The distance between villages, Grows greater with every passing year, Though none can say why. They carry the records, The great tome, Though only one among them, Has the skill to discern its meaning, For though highly esteemed, What use have hunters and herdsmen, For that arcane art? Still, some with the aptitude are found, Fostered, For some writings are survived, And new ones made, If slowly, and only by a few. The scribe among them, Is closely guarded, His letters young yet, And his sword but newly held. Tomorrow marks his first Reading, And he practices from his slate, Scratching the marks over and again, The low murmur of his art their only sound, For their beasts feet are muffled. They dare not announce their presence, As the Sheriffs are busy elsewhere, And bandits have been reported near to here. But they will dare this passage, Though dark has descended on the world, And

  This House is a Mess   Hey there House MAGA, Are you feelin’ far-right? Why do your enemies, Nazi the light?   We know you’re just proud, boys, Fighting the good fight, Aryan’t you just trying, To keep America white?   Hey they there House MAGA, Why are you Russian around? Don’t let these Dems keep, Putin you down.   Why K, K, Kant They leave you in peace? Don’t know why they think, They’re the Fascism police…   So proud you’re able to Keep your Patriot Front. Even if you have to Follow some miserable… person.   Seems like so many, Want to replace you, So, my House MAGA, What Klan you do?   What Klan you do? Can’t fly the coup, Woke just won’t do, What Klan you do?   Cliff Lake 4/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Secret Dance   Garishly plumed and conveniently bulging, They advance upon the wallets in attendance, The promise of fleshy delights unspoken, Served up in three-minute intervals. This is a street corner named “Politics”, Where the pimps have names like “Senator” and “CEO”. The venue is cleaner, But the rules are the same. Outside, alligators prowl the golf course, With names like “Bob from Sales” and “VP”, Intent on sloppy seconds, Or maybe a video from a bathroom stall. In the main room, A prince wanders through, Or perhaps he’s a sheik, It matters not, Tonight the choices are his to make, Honored guest, And bankroll. His ears are on high alert, Listening for insult, That he may pluck the fruit, And pay nothing. But the wallets smile graciously, And the dresses writhe invitingly, And he may need To make agreement after all, But the rewards could be great, If the pigs can deliver. It is an old game, And he has won man

Mistakes   Running around with a dangerous crowd, The delirious, the destructive, the loud. Nabbed up, grabbed up, shut in the clink, Time for a change, whadda ya think?   Now on the stand your voice will quake, “Sorry your Honor, my mistake.” And then you get out and back to your boys, But a mistake made more than once is a choice.   A mistake made all the time is a choice, Don’t give me that fake apology noise. Do it again and your virtue voids, A mistake made more than once is a choice.   Man, human, building as fast as you can, Making lots of things later banned. But you keep making ever more dangerous toys, The mistakes you’ve made have been a choice.   A mistake made all the time is a choice, Don’t give me that fake apology noise. The sorrows of earth we sing just annoys, A mistake made more than once is a choice.   Why must we be so very competitive? The burning and churning gets more repetitive, A spiral we dance ever fa

  A Vile Sat   What trials you at the last? What examination comes? What analysis of deeds unwanted, What probe may make you undone?   Just take your seat now, you vile! This is the reward well deserved. Watch as you are now revealed, Your unmasking is now well observed.   This payment conceived in denial, Avenues closed one by one, Which abandoned are invited against you? You must pay the final sum.   A stripping away of the layers, Unseemly deeds are now spoke. The record of your violations, Are exposed from the mirrors and smoke.   Where will you find your salvation, Some glove that will not fit, What miracle revelation, Will keep justice from being submit?   You cry foul! to the heavens, But who will hear your refrain? Your chorus is only static now, Few minions to hear still remain.   This is the end now, pimple, Carbuncle, cancer and wart, And end to your suffered leeching, No more will you justice thwart.  

  The Three Toe Stumble   Here comes Marge, motion in hand, No real support, but she will grandstand. They once followed but now they bail, Poor widdle Marjorie, doomed to fail.   Hear her yellin’ about space lasers, She ain’t satisfied with Texas razors. She hates it when you’re behind Ukraine, She won’t be happy until nuclear rain.   Marjorie, Marjorie, talk that jumble! Marjorie, don’t you see, you should be humble! Marjorie, all your plans do crumble, You’re tryin’ to dance, but you Three-Toe Stumble!   Now which amendment do we throw out? The ones you want just make me doubt, That you have any clue what you talk about, And face it Marge, you got no clout.   Marjorie will bitch, whine, and scream, Cuz she can’t further Putin’s scheme. She says Johnson’s on the street, Marjorie, just accept defeat!   Marjorie, Marjorie, talk that jumble! Marjorie, don’t you see, you should be humble! Marjorie, all your plans do crumble, You

  A Juncture   You have arrived to this moment, Involuntary enrollment. Life brings you here without your leave, An hour you did not conceive.   A time that’s never been before, You cannot know what is in store. A chance to reconfigure dreams, To move beyond generic themes.   Or you may remain in stasis, Comfortability’s oasis. Stay behind the closed door, Never the sky to soar.   Fall into a routine’s trance, Thinking nothing left to chance. Until you are changed radic’ly, Brought on by calamity.   A left turn come all unforeseen, No more is life that evergreen, Darkness on you may descend, None of us may see all ends.   Life will always play its trick, Though you are walled in by brick. So why not take the step unknown, Throw off the boredom so ingrown.   You have arrived to this moment, Involuntary enrollment. Life brings you here without your leave, It’s up to you what you achieve.   Cliff Lake 4/21/2024 Co

  Mr. Void   Looking out the window, Watching the children laugh, But not hearing, Separated and excluded, Through studious disaffection, The color drains, And leaves an empty. Click on the TV, To dispel the nothing, With noise, And forced hues, Vapid humor, Retold drama, And motion and, The ads come on, To sell you something empty. Something to fill a corner, But inanimate, Cold, Soulless and dead, Empty. Turn to the device, Full of words, And easy pictures, Loud and loud, And loudly proclaimed, Promising everything, Producing nothing, Coming up empty. Now you join the frantic chorus, Repeat the phrases, March the marches, Wave the signs, Affect nothing, No need for thought, Being empty. Someone logics you, They make their point, They have their thoughts, They have the facts, And point to proof, And you screech and moan, To try to make them appear empty. But they have thoughts, That are their o

  Bye, Guy   Who sneaks into the DMs, Who is stalking the profile? Who hasn’t got a single friend, Who’s only posting bile?   Vitriol and garbage, Spilling from its sty, Introducing you to: The ugly reply guy.   Reply guy, the spy guy, Thinking he’s a sly guy. It’s just your “Help me!” cry, guy. Deny guy, bone-dry guy, Lonelier with every try, guy.   Jumping conversations, Shouts words that don’t apply. Has no invitations, He muscles in, but why?   Everyone has seen one, Sometimes in a drive-by, Please don’t ever be one, Don’t be that reply guy.   Reply guy, missed try guy, Never gonna fly guy. It’s just your “Help me!” cry guy. Imply guy, all lie guy, Lonelier with every try, guy Reply guy, too high guy, Meme response supply guy, It’s just your “Help me!” cry, guy. Defy guy, French fry guy, Lonelier with every try guy.   Cliff Lake 4/20/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Likes and the Like   Where is your validation? Do you find yourself warmed, By the accolades earned From your performance on the stage, Or that of your social media account? Is that flashy automobile, Reflective of your inner being, Your bank account, Your parents doting, Or their dotage? Is the sum of your investments, The sum of your investment In the pursuit of achievement, Or simply numbers on a page, Shared with yourself. What is your validation? A certificate hung behind glass, Or digitally reproduced. A mortgaged home that supports both jobs, Containing the children, Your mother asked for. Is your pride then held, By having been productive, Or is it found in a gap-toothed smile, Lit by your entry into a room? Where is your validation? Is it found in what you have collected That is inert and inanimate? Is it in the reply you wait for, Good or bad, Found on the device consuming you? Or is it in the wagging tail,