CliffSongs

Ride of the 40 Thieves   40 thieves taking measure, 40 thieves taking treasure. 40 thieves riding forth, 40 thieves riding north.   The legend had been spoken many times, In beggar's tales and minstrel rhymes. A hoard fantastic and grand, A hoard not meant for mortal man.   To the Guild came the wizard man, To them he brought map and plan. To the northern hills they should go, If riches unfathomed they would know.   40 thieves taking measure, 40 thieves seeking treasure. 40 thieves riding forth, 40 thieves headed north.   The wizard was a being of caution, Nightly he rode them to exhaustion. And kept the map most safely hid, And slept with a half-open lid.   But the thieves had their own design, And made plan through secret sign. Studied the map two-by-two One to read and cohort tattoo.   40 thieves taking glances 40 thieves making chances. 40 thieves riding forth, 40 thieves faring north.   They came at last

  Shadows   It is a long road back To places that I have been. The river of time does not flow back, To the person I was then. The years have swiftly passed, Can life be lived too fast? Memory is seen through a foggy glass, And here I am at last.   Treasures I did not find, And things I did not see. Lessons that I did not mind And things that could not be. There he is behind, The shadow of me. Following down the years, The shadows of me.   I remember a different me, Was I always too young? Come tomorrow, who will I be? My full tale yet unsung. The yesterdays stretch unending, Their story incomplete. Are they that worth remembering Do I write another sheet?   Treasures I did not find, And things I did not see. Lessons that I did not mind And things that could not be. There he is behind, The shadow of me. Following down the years, The shadows of me.   Cliff Lake 8/2/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Phillips Gets Results   Creating a monster, We were creating a monster, That’s what the professor would have said. But genetics is the future, Even Phillips said that. Crazy old Phillips. We ran into trouble with the code early. On paper it should have worked. In the lab it died. We needed a different approach. We needed inspiration. We needed Phillips. Crazy old Phillips. He’d been fired some years ago. Fired for disregarding guidelines. Fired for disregarding Federal guidelines. Fired for disregarding Federal sanctions. “The rules need to be bent”, he said. “Without deviation from the norm, Progress is not possible.”, he quoted. Nobody listens to Zappa… Crazy old Phillips. Smith brought him in. Showed him the work. Showed him the results, Showed him the lack of results. Phillips laughed. Of course he did. Crazy old Phillips. It took him two days. Viable results in two days. We lost contain in four. Oh yeah, The r

  Young Hayes Knows His Business   From the West they came, Just the two, but capable. It was seen in their easy surety, It was seen in their carriage, It was seen in the wear of their weapons. Sheriffs they were, or something like, Though they bore no sigil, They felt of Law, And it seemed like they could deal it. So went the talk in the tavern, Though not in their presence.   Old Man Hayes was seen speaking to them, No one questioned, He was as close to an authority as they had, And his horses were well kept. The next morning grand-nephew Hayes went riding, With him the men from the West. Out toward the causeway it seemed, Where ruffians had been encamped some months, Using the narrow canyon that led for defense. Their work was to harry the town and its folk, And they worked it often.   As the sun moved to its bed, The three came riding, Two men and the boy, With jests passed between, And camaraderie evident. That night th

  Machine You   The machine is ravenous. It feeds on itself. And you are in it. You are it. Every dollar you earn Feeds the machine. Every dollar you spend Feeds the machine. Every dollar you save Is the machine.   Be the right shape, That way you can fit in. You are the building block Of our economic foundation – Which puts you on the bottom. So, be the right shape.   The machine is breaking. It has been feeding on itself. It consumes the assets it creates. You are an asset. The machine has eaten you. The machine requires you to produce So that it may feed. So that it may continue to consume you. The machine is ravenous. The machine is breaking.   Be the right shape, That way you can fit in. You are the building block Of our economic foundation – Which puts you on the bottom. So, be the right shape.   The machine is insupportable. The machine is ravenous. The machine is eating itself. The machine is brea

  The “W” Word   Hey weirdo, where the hell’s your shaman hat? Here in the GOP, weird is where it’s at! Get yerself an ear diaper, and a gold shoe or two, Got yer talking Trump doll and yer lower back tattoo?   How about investing in a two-dollar bill? Only 19.95 but you can’t spend that swill. Make yerself a new flag to pledge allegiance to, And wear a Trump diaper, like they told you to .   And do you have twenty Trump signs out on your lawn? You only have 18? What is going on? And paint your truck all up with his holy name, And buy every goddam NFT until you go insane.   And call everyone without a Trump tattoo a damn pedophile, And watch your pastor in jail for sex abuse all the while. And run away from windmills – there ain’t no cancer cure! And end your prayers in Hannibal’s name, you know, to be sure.   Don’t you never get in no boat that has a battery, Yer guaranteed to meet that shark when you’re lost at sea. So line up MAGA, you

  Nobody   When the memos stopped arriving He began to suspect he was nobody, An inconvenience for his credit score. On the third day, He was certain that he had become Unnoticeable, And forgotten. He thought about going to HR, But if he had become nobody, Or at least unnoticeable, They might close his files and Take him off payroll. Also inconvenient for credit scoring… On the elevator, They didn’t speak to him, He did not remember if they ever had – Maybe he had always been Nobody. That might explain his Lack of advancement. Because he was unnoticeable and Not anybody. On the way home he realized that If he was nobody, He could probably do anything And get away with it. He bought a gun. It was easy. He was nobody And had no priors. He went to a liquor store. The shopkeeper ducked. He had no bullets. They don’t sell those To just anybody. The camera didn’t know he was nobody, And the police didn’t either. Wh

  Nature Rhyme   Listen as the firefly wings, A story old as time. Listen as the meadows sing, Your heart completes the rhyme.   Disconnect from the urban sprawl Do you answer Mother’s call? Disconnect from the rat race crawl, Nature waits in the golden hall.   Has the fox winked at you? She has her lesson to tell. The eagle’s call says what to do, Acknowledge the forest knell.   Disconnect from the urban sprawl Do you answer Mother’s call? Disconnect from the rat race crawl, Nature waits in the golden hall.   See the ripples on the pond: Sacred geometry. In every nodding reed’s frond, An answer plain to see.   The question of our sin gone on too long, Mankind’s quest to be too strong, We ask at length where we went wrong, The answer has been here all along…   A secret to which we turn blind, A wildness we need not fear. Nature may leave us far behind, Why don’t we hold her near?   Disconnect from the urban spraw

  To Open   The open door Leading to a strange countryside. The dark beneath the trees. The time it takes to decide, If you believe what you see.   A parable that is whispered by The wings of the passing jay, Visions in an open sky, Will this be your discovery day?   Have you come to an open mind, What have you missed before? Why is it we are so blind, To what the world holds in store?   A music played upon the breeze, The hum of a world still sane. A melody played all your life, You hear it now again.   What clean scent wafts beneath the oil, What song springs from your tongue? What confusion is uncoiled, What damages undone?   Have you come to an open mind, What have you missed before? Why is it we are so blind, To what the world holds in store?   An open door leads to behind The tapestry gone mad. How many of us have always pined For the world we should have had.   The shine that lies beneath the grime, Th

  Sweet Affliction   Life can be a poor excuse for existence. But we continue without much resistance. Climbing and falling in the same direction. Never a moment for reflection.   Counting all the value you are given, Never counting all the time you’ve been driven: Understand that this is an infliction, Money is the sweetest addiction.   Buy a dream with an idea, Arbitrary value unclear. Now’s the time to get in gear, Before you can’t get there from here.   Buy a dream, there’s no contradiction, Just a concept, an immersive fiction. Watch us line up without conscription – Money is the heaviest addiction.   Buy a dream with an idea, Arbitrary value unclear. Now’s the time to get in gear, Before you can’t get there from here.   Where is it you think you’re going? Can’t get there without some coin. Want to eat? Or gird your loins? This scheme has got you by the groin.   Buy a dream with an idea, Arbitrary value unclear. N

  Projectors   They tell you to Get in line They tell you to Do as you’re told They tell you to Close your eyes That way you can’t see They aren’t as big as they say. They want you to Knuckle under They want you to Kneel down They want you to Bend over That way you can’t see What they are taking away.   It’s a project meant to deprive, Listen to them lie and connive. They say it’s the church they revive, But they just want to rule in 2025.   They tell themselves They have the right They tell themselves They have the might They tell themselves That it’s all white That way we can’t say, That’s it’s gotten dark as night.   It’s a project meant to deprive, Listen to them lie and connive. They say it’s the church they revive, But they just want to rule in 2025.   It doesn’t s-s-scan. They think they are the M-M-Man It’s the Master P-P-Plan And they think they K-K-Kan.   It’s a project meant to deprive, L

  Another Time   We were poor, no funds for fun, Often through the park we’d run. “Mother, can I ride the ride?” “Another time.” she’d say, and I died.   Long ago in another world, I found myself the only girl. But when I asked her, “Be by my side.” “Another time”, she said, and I died.   “Another time.” she said, She said, “Another time.” I’d carry these words to my bed, But don’t believe that I was crying… Maybe it was all in my head, It was another time.   Many years have come and gone, And often I have longed For a second chance to try Another time, maybe this time I will fly.   Now it’s late, I seem to hear How many times the clocks have chimed. In all the years the passing sigh, “Another time”, they say, and I die.   “Another time.” I said, I said, “Another time.” I carry these words to my bed, But don’t believe that I am crying… Maybe it was all in my head, It was another time.   Cliff Lake 7/27/2024 Copyr

  A Cuppa   When I am bleary-eyed and can barely stand, When I get up earlier than I planned. When my head feels like one sore throbbing gland, Coffee understands me like no one else can.   When my keys are nowhere I can find, When I need to wake my mind, When it’s time for work and I’m behind, Coffee is the best part of the daily grind.   So it’s Hi Ho! A cuppa Joe! So much help when ya gotta go! Gimme a cup! Gimme three! Please shut up! Where’s the coffee?   I’ll need one at least for the workflow, Hot, dark, and large just so you know! Nothing like coffee for gusto, I’ll have one here and one to go!   So it’s Hi Ho! A cuppa Joe! So much help when ya gotta go! Gimme a cup! Gimme three! Please shut up! Where’s the coffee?   Cliff Lake 7/26/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Whisper of the Rose   A rose’s whisper hails the moon’s glow, Twilight’s venture calling. An unlooked-for journey into wavering dusk, Mysterious and enthralling. Shadowed forms accompanying, The shared experience. Vapors carrying honeyed scent, An extra helping of existence. Gliding procession at eventide, A promenade beneath the moon. Woodland creatures move alongside, This wild earthy commune. The music wells from another sphere, Listen to the trees song. How will you ever leave here, The moment is too strong. The moon climbs high in her arc, Breezes caress your hair, The edges of the grass alight, Absorbing your every care. Moonset at last must be again, Now you greet the dawn. The renewal you’ve taken from this night, Allows you to carry on. A rose’s whisper hails the moon’s glow, The twilight venture calling. A few more steps before you go, And leave the moondance enthralling.   Cliff Lake 7/26/2024 Copyright © Clif

  Woodland   I found the living faerie ring, There in the wild woodland. Though it looked empty to my eyes, It was anything but unmanned.   Though the sun was overhead, The light began to fail. Then the faerie came to me, All clad in lightning mail.   She told the tales of another earth, Though she never spoke a word. Then it seemed that the whole forest laughed That was the last sound that I heard.   I was buried there, Faeried there, And carried off to the mystical land. Where I had to lose myself To find out who I am.   I was a fortnight and a day gone   And then another day. And who or what I encountered there, I find it too beautiful to say.   Suffice to say I came away From the land beyond the veil. The other side of here, where the water’s clear, And the air does not taste stale.   Faerie queen bade me goodbye, Her smile gentle as soft rain. And though the ring exists no more, In my dreams it’s found again.

  Them Old Red Blues   You made the Secret Servers stop, To get the secret photo op. You made your injury unclear, Wearing a diaper on your ear.   You got them Old Red Blues, Look at Kamala light the fuse! Looks like it’s time to pay your dues, Look out boy, it’s time to lose.   For VP you picked JD Vance, Another super shady man. Then Good Ol’ Joe gives up his chair, Hear you cryin’ “It isn’t fair!”   You got them Old Red Blues, Dark Brandon gave you a bruise! You bought into the easy ruse, Look out boy it’s time to lose.   What is the platform, what will you do? Your only platform is in your shoes. Can you say anything but bitchin? If the heat’s too high, get out the kitchen!   You got them Old Red Blues, Look at Kamala light the fuse! Looks like it’s time to pay your dues, Look out boy, it’s time to lose.   Cliff Lake 7/25/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  The Emissary   The Emissary was carefully chosen and prepared: Sent to the conqueror’s homeland, He was to appear affable, Conciliatory, Helpful, And welcoming of the overlords. A traitor. What benefit could such a one provide? How to help the land of his birth? Certainly, he could placate the tyrant, For a time perhaps. Would that were enough. For a despot soon tires of the toadying, The simpering and groveling, The obeisance and scraping, And knowing a man To have foresworn his birthright, For a chance at his own comfort, Even for the shortest time, Would insure soon that man’s time, Was indeed short. Therefore, the Emissary was carefully chosen and prepared, For it was known He would break bread with the captor, And drink of their wine, And visit their markets, And lay with their women, And be among them as freely as allowed, And be one with them. An Emissary friendly to them, Craven and weak, Fawning and flattering

  ALL ABOARD!!   Standing in the station, The last train out of town. No matter the frustration, We saw the thing go down. But pulling to the platform, Something big, something new – Something like a firestorm: The ride we call Big Blue.   Big Blue Train is ridin’ the rails, Big Blue Train is hittin’ the trails! No time for blame, no turnin’ back, Big Blue is rollin’ down the track! Movin’ on now To somewhere new. Do you dare do, What’s best for you? All of life’s moments Run far too brief, Why hang onto Some petty beef? Don’t wait in the station, For a ride that’s gone, There’s a faster train You should be getting on.   Big Blue is rollin’ down the track, No time for blame, no turnin’ back. Big Blue Train is rollin’ through! Big Blue Train will be carrying you!   Big Blue Train is ridin’ the rails, Big Blue Train is hittin’ the trails! No time for blame, no turnin’ back, Big Blue is rollin’ down the track!   Cliff L

  Hollow Moon   Hollow Moon, Who are you And why are you here? Singing like a bell. Who do you sound for, What music is this, Who will play you again? Hollow Moon…   Hollow Moon, you called me, Deep in my walking dream. Hollow Moon, you followed me, Are you more than you seem?   Hollow Moon, Why are you? Who steers your path, Circling me ever. Why go round like this, What madness is this, Your mystery unsolved. Hollow Moon…   In the night you float there, Pale and slim and high… And yet it seems you don’t care, Still in my dreams you fly…   Hollow Moon, Who are you And why are you here? Singing like a bell. Who do you sound for, What music is this, Who will play you again? Hollow Moon…   Hollow Moon, Why are you? Who steers your path, Circling me ever. Why go round like this, What madness is this, Your mystery unsolved. Hollow Moon…   Hollow Moon… Hollow Moon… Hollow Moon…   Cliff La

  Secret Stones   Too long ago – They lived too long ago, Leaving puzzles, That cannot be hidden, And won’t be explained. Secret stones. Which overmaster, Or corporate titan, Or mystic majesties, Have read their mysteries? Pyramids scattered across the globe, Monoliths and megaliths on every continent, And none to know why. Why? How can such knowledge remain so dark, So hidden, On structures so large? See the sun! The winter solstice marked! The summer celebrated! The equinox noted and manifest! Cairns constructed, Quartz arrangements, Water guided, And walls erected to no purpose? Or purpose concealed? What knowledge needs sequestered? What arcane proficiency disturbs? Have mystic wisdoms been shrouded? What powers could be so shaken, Unless their power Rests solidly on clay, on sand, On whispers and innuendo, On occult nonsense dictated to slaves? What knowledge is stored in these giants, Too large to be ignore

  Governance   Paying the tax, what do you acquire? You have a voice, If you do not wish in fact To be a voice. Does your government work for you? Or do you work for them? How can you tell, Paying the tax.   Do you pay the tax? Are you paying your government? Who else may be? Who gets the value of their dollar spent? Who pays the government? Did you pay your tax?   Where is the governance? Who is that governance? Is it a paid position? Or is it purchased In the closeted room? Do you have access? Did you pay the tax?   Isn’t everyone taxed? Did they pay their tax? Did they pay in full? Did they pay less than is fair? Did they pay at all? Or did they pay a man? Where is that governance? And who are the governed? Did they pay a tax?     What is the governance? Where is the governance? Is it in the battered halls? Is it in the hands Of an old guard beleaguered? Is it in the hands Of officials of little in

Strain   Hawker was out of control. The breeding protocol. The aggressor strain. The risk had been known, It had been Factored In, Some had even suggested a full-scale release, Now they had it, Now, we all had it. Full engagement of the dominant code - It was mingling. Control was attempted, The pathogen release. The restraint was unrestrained, Not a mistake, Just a correction requiring… Correction… Losses were taken. They had been Factored In. Hawker continued little abated. Aggression mounted, Evolved, Continued and Consumed. Other strains were adopted, Adapted, Annihilated. The decision was made: Allow the strain to run its course: The strain would attack itself Once targets were fled, Learned defenses, Or destroyed. The strain was too capable, Therefore, self-destruction was allowable, Even preferred. Once eradication was accomplished, They could start over. They would start over… The funding had been F

    A Constancy   Under the moonless night he wandered, As lost as you or me, Until at last he foundered, By the edge of the incessant sea.   An ancient treasure he found there, Though he did not know what it could be. Still, he closely attended the sound there, At the shore of the insistent sea.   A troubled mind he had with him, Though once he had been carefree. Now he lost himself in the rhythm, Of the infinite sea.   His shoulders too long bent with care, And the drains of inhumanity, He didn’t know what he would find there, On this beach of the inviting sea.   So, he sat in silent contemplation, Until he finally forgot all that could be, And only observed the sound of his station, Here on the shore of the incomparable sea.   There he sat in silent selfdom, Wondering at empty efficacy. And just who or what had now helped him, Sitting there by the efficient sea.   Then he let the world rhythm soothe him, Learning to l

  The Winds   When did it all get so warm? Are we heading into the storm? Can you look out at the summer’s day, Without wond’ring what has gone astray?   And the winds of change blow hot, Bringing us into the unknown. And do we know what change is brought? Or even that the wind has blown?   We are blown along all together, Heading into stormier weather. All of us against the rising tide. With nowhere left to run or hide.   And the winds ever blow the changes, And we must go as we are blown. Into danger or simple rearranges, Our destination is always unknown.   It’s not as if we weren’t warned… Some choose to remain uninformed. Read to us chapter and verse, Listen as the gales blow ever worse.   And the winds of change blow hot, Bringing us into the unknown. And do we know what change is brought? Or even that the wind has blown?   The winds of change blow again, Will the changes ever end? The winds of change will blow a

  Some Time   It was a different time. Always a different time. He had no control. He had the apparatus, But had no control. Perhaps that had always been his problem: No control. He had taken the device, But taken no instruction, He should have taken the time, He had taken the Time –   And now…   ………………………………..   When was now? Was it before? Or long after? Would he stay long enough to know? Would he stay long enough this time? He could not know at this time, He could not know this Time. If only he had taken the time… If only he hadn’t taken the Time…   Time. He had Time. He had taken the Time. Time had become a problem, Time was THE problem, Time was HIS problem, He was running out of time. He was running out of Time.   If only he could get back in time, Maybe he wouldn’t take it next time, Or maybe he would have been instructed in time. Maybe he would have been instructed in Time. Maybe he would have taken

  Sins   My sin is lugged behind me, Counterweight to innocence, I am only what I am, And have no lofty confession. One only need to see my track, To know what scars I may have collected, To guess at ones I’ve left. My sin ever follows, Though it be unspoken, A testament in time Of the dual nature of humanity, Or of the weakness of one man. Tomorrow will not unburden me, True cleansing comes only with finality. My sin is drawn after me, A reminder of borne imperfection, Or an inability to learn in time That lessons can be had from any, Though I may have judged them as lesser, And could not hear What they had to tell. My sin is all the memories Of the things I should have done, The things I might have done, And the things I did instead. My sin is having left behind The person I should have been And not being that person To the people that needed me most. My sin is not learning fast enough To be the person I want to be now

  Missed Message   When the shouting is over, who will take cover, What will have been gained or lost? When the shooting is over, what will we discover? Who remains to count the cost? When the prayers have been spoken, whose eyes will be woken? Who is it that has been blessed? Is the thought just a token, and promises broken, Has anything real been addressed? Will there be real discourse, from verified source, Or are certain matters to be silent? Will we shout ‘til we’re hoarse, sanity endorse, Or is life to become much more violent? How much longer to wait, to set the thing straight, Or do we learn to be quick on the draw? Live by the sword, death is the reward, Don’t you know what it is you just saw? All the bully talk, do you walk the walk, Will you stand up against aggression? The violence must cease, don’t you know peace? Will you learn a little discretion? Will you not try, do you hasten to die? The truth cannot be more plain - It’s

Reflections   A bent back, And gnarled knees, These I saw first, Old clothes, Carefully mended and clean, And a hat Perhaps older than he, Shading clear Too-knowing eyes, And a mouth Etched in that permanent Sardonic grin, That many wondered at, Without knowing why. He greeted me by name, As though we had ever met. He sat too easily for his age, And spoke too clearly for mine. He told my life, In accomplishment, In mistake, In a moment, And said not a word. All my deeds laid bare, In the tale of this familiar stranger. I had no answer to give, He was my past, And knew me too well. I turned from the lake then, Knowing when I return, He will be there yet, And may judge me as thoroughly as now, Though we’d spoken not, And said everything.   Cliff Lake 7/13/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Crisis For Sale   Crisis for sale! Get it while it’s hot! It’s monumental scale! And even if it’s not, We’re working for scale, We gotta take this shot. Yesterday is so stale, So have some brain rot – Crisis for sale!   Crisis for sale! It’s brand new today! Check your email, Open and pray! They’re hot on the trail, Of the new cliché, And lurid detail, And the opinion ballet – Crisis for sale!   We know what the facts are, We’ll use one or two. To make it more bizarre, To entertain you. You see from afar, You see how we do, You got what you came for, Your subscription is due.   Crisis for sale! We’re going all in! No time to exhale, It’s gotten too grim! It’s a full-on gale, The shock is buit-in. Hear this twisted tale, And then hear the spin. Crisis for sale!   Cliff Lake 7/12/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  On Defense   The old one sat down next to me, He did not ask my name. He told me of a history, That sounded much the same, As matters I was studying, Which left me much confused, People spent time muddying, What they said are their views. The old man spoke of marching, And loyalty to the state. And blame laid overarching, And whom to choose to hate. He told of holding sessions To catch the public ear, And how to use regression, And jealousy and fear. And organizing bully squads To wreak havoc in the night, And maintain victim façade, And ready the viper’s bite. He laid it all out for me, So that I might understand, How fragile is our liberty, How dangerous one man. It’s all been played for us before, We know how it will end. It’s time to stand strong once more, And all our rights defend.   Cliff Lake 7/11/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

  Bad Paper   I read the news today to learn what I should think. But from the trusted paper there rose a horrid stink. The words I read were all a backwards view, How could mere common sense go so wildly askew?   A spiraling storyline was in front of me, A desperate attempt to quell choice would be. A machination cold and cruel, A backroom barter resulting in one man’s rule.   Couched in convo’s pleading sense, A thinly disguised corporate pretense. And on the TV, those talking heads, Repeated same and not a tear was shed.   Not a shot was fired, no bell tolled out, As the media the republic sold out. And then talked sports, the matter rested, But I say our resolve remains untested.   Let them talk, and convince themselves. For in my heart and yours, fierce spirit dwells. For my part, this try seems feeble, This land is governed of and by its people!   Let them try this odd foolish plan, Let them try to force the hand! Let them

  Near Madman   What is this, just this side of too much? What is this momentary strife? What is this he can almost touch? It’s the glass box of his life.   It’s just an observation post, Is it real? It’s too real. The day is over Before the next one begins again.   He hears all they say, does he understand? He hears the things they don’t say. He reaches out as far as he can, He sees but cannot join in the play…   It’s just an observation post, Is it real? It’s too real. The day is over Before the next one begins again.   Too many doors close When he tells all he knows He’s heard secrets that were never said. Tricky knots will unwind, Does he see your mind, Can find the dark paths you have tread.   He sits back and watches, unnerving at times, But there’s little more he can do. He’s not fully here, madman and seer, It’s just life and he’s trying to get through.   It’s just an observation post, Is it real? It’s

  Bellman   Once he stood without the gates, This warrior with pointed pen. Now against the keeper throws his weight, Now his pocket he defends.   And the people cry:   You, bellman, Whom do you abandon? There your sister is, Crying beneath her veil. You, pressman, Turned your back on your brother, And allowing rescue to fail.   A jester now, a simpering minion, The public emotion toying. A marionette flaying opinion, Falsely proclaiming to the accompaniment of coin.   Hear the people cry:   You, bellman, Have you forgotten now, Your sister weeps beneath her cowl. You, pressman, Back to your post, Why with the wolves you howl?   Why do you fan the flame, The world has too long burned! What virtue can you claim? Take back the honor you once earned.   And my people cry:   You, bellman, Whom do you abandon? There your sister is, Crying beneath her veil. You, pressman, Turned your back on your brother,

  The Noisies   Noisy, noisy. Chatterbugs buzzing the media, Gnats in service to themselves. Side-swiping the news cycle, They are the scratch and dent, Leaving the vehicle intact, And looking clumsy. Opinions baked in the Easy, Lots of pepper and too salty, But the meat is missing. Still, this is their bread and butter, Meant to feed the masses thinly. Noisy, noisy. Hear their incoming whine, High-pitched and distracting, They would sting you with doubts, Then wing their way weightless, And with less meaning To the next issue Nattering on about the one fact, They may have gotten right this time. This time. Noisy, noisy, and impolite, impetuous, And in the end unimportant, impotent, And impressing each other, They overcrowd the questions With possibilities carved from air and earwax, Molded special for the hit and run, Or argued into spiraling death, The topic tortured into obscurity, And left unresolved. Leaving the car

  And After Them   Here we stand again upon the brink – To choose darkness or choose light, Into degradation to sink, Or to keep kindness in our sight.   What emergency is constantly drawn? What calamity dozes waiting? What knife-edge must we live on? Must we be always anticipating?   Are we to be always manipulated? Moved like pawns upon the board. Why is there always something to be hated? Must we again take up the sword?   Through our masses runs a dark vein, An imperative that thirsts for blood. Will we allow this madness to reign, And be swept up in an angry flood?   Can we at last have some surcease, Deny all with the heart of stone. Can we find within us peace, Allow the raver to consume its own.   Turn your back to anger’s ill! Is raging how you would spend your day? The madmen will go on hating still, Let them on each other prey.   We can outlast them as they seek death, It will not evade them long. Let them w