Upon Finding the flattened, Desiccated Corpse of a Frog
Under my Subaru
Flat Frog
Floogie
The silent carport
A frog croaks under a tire
Then silence resumes
Pinched from
Basho’s famous pond poem
Music: “Flat
Foot Floogie,” 1938
Sunday, April 12, 2026
Upon Finding the flattened, Desiccated Corpse of a Frog Under my Subaru - poem
Tuesday, April 7, 2026
About the Book You Write - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
About the Book You Write
Introibo ad altare Dei
A book is as an altar upon which
Our imperfect dreams are transubstantiated
Through parallel orbital shifts where we
Together realize eternity
Ad Deum qui laetificat juvenetutem meam
A book is as a golden chalice of words
Blessing with silent words our sacrifice
Of self to eternal Truth and eternal Art
Wherein we all work out a needful part
Judica Me
A book –
But this one is yours, I believe
Monday, March 30, 2026
No Reichskirche Here - very short poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the
Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
No
Reichskirche Here
Direct us to the Peace that must endure
-Hugh Lofting, Victory for the Slain, p. 60 in the
Walmer Poetry edition
The god of the
Secretary for War is his god -
We do not
concern ourselves with either of them
The Book on Your Bedside Table - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
The Book on Your Bedside Table
(not to mention the cat at your feet)
When you went to bed last night
Before you switched off the light
And pillow-settled your sleepy head -
What were the last five words you read?
Wednesday, March 25, 2026
That Which was Mandatory is Now Forbidden - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the
Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
That
Which was Mandatory is Now Forbidden
Let no images
Be hung with
Caesar’s trophies
-Flavius in Julius Caesar I.i.73-74
Now hidden are the statues of
Cesar Chavez
His name, his fame, once
celebrated everywhere
Were furtively cleansed in the
dark of night
Lest any of his works live after
him
He is closeted now in the
basement of some museum
Playing poker with Abraham
Lincoln and Columbus
While Mother Theresa and Winston
Churchill
Exchange Shakespearean bon
mots
The famous of the past are
irrelevant, you see
Because
No one is as perfect as you and
me
(Takeaway –
from year to year I understand less and less)
If We Have to Evacuate Tonight - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
If We Have to Evacuate Tonight
If we have to evacuate tonight
Take to the roads in fear of an enemy
Take to the shelter in fear of bombs
What book would you stuff into your jump-bag?
(Along with your Tylenol,
toothbrush, and cat)
The Oxford Book of English Verse for me -
Tho’ I would miss Mary Oliver and Pasternak
Hammarskjold, Li Bai, Cavafy, and Cohen
Akhmatova and vain Yevtushenko
(What book for you
among your socks and thoughts?)
But all of us with our own cultures’ poets
In some new land beyond faraway hills
We will plant our verse and grow bright daffodils
Scorn not the Haiku (as Wordsworth did not say) - two amateurish haikus
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Scorn
not the Haiku
Scorn not the Haiku
In simplicity - complex
Basho teaches us
We are Basho’s friends
Leaping into that old pond
The sound of laughter
Cf:
“The Old
Pond,” Basho
“Scorn not
the Sonnet,” Wordsworth
Monday, March 23, 2026
War Metaphor Guy - poem
This is a variant on an old poem and so possibly a re-post
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
War Metaphor Guy
Does keyboard-war-guy truly mean that he
Will shoulder rifle, pack, and spares, and range
On blistered, bleeding feet into dead hell,
Obedient to an ill-considered oath
That calls upon his soul to deny itself?
How noble is his war -- upon the screen.
Does he intend to suffer sin-stained years
Of deprivation, lowest-bidder tins
Of surplus slime stored since some previous war,
Of murky water gassed with chemicals,
Of gasping, breathless, sodden, rotting heat?
How easy is his war -- upon the screen.
So does he really want a poor man’s soul
Ripped screaming, sh*tting, bleeding from his life,
Intestines flyblown in the devil’s sun?
Will he be satisfied with an eyeless corpse
Bloat-floating down another Vam Co Tay?
How glorious is his war -- upon the screen.
Now, keyboard war guy, march away, away
And how God wills, dispose the video games.
Sunday, March 22, 2026
Arnold Raced Out the Door - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the
Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Arnold
Raced Out the Door
“The typewriter is holy…”
-Allen Ginsberg
As the opening credits appeared
each week
Jessica Fletcher typed on her old
machine
“Arnold raced out the door” - but
we don’t suppose
That we will ever learn who
Arnold was
And why he was racing out a door
(Angela, we miss you!)
He Simply Won't Do - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
He Simply Won’t Do
Second of all, his name is Markwayne
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
That Which was Mandatory is Now Forbidden - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
That
Which was Mandatory is Now Forbidden
Let no images
Be hung with
Caesar’s trophies
-Flavius in Julius Caesar I.i.73-74
Now hidden are the statues of
Cesar Chavez
His name, his fame, once
celebrated everywhere
Were furtively cleansed in the
dark of night
Lest any of his works live after
him
He is closeted now in the
basement of some museum
Playing poker with Abraham
Lincoln and Columbus
While Mother Theresa and Winston
Churchill
Exchange Shakespearean bon
mots
The famous of the past are
irrelevant, you see
Because
No one is as perfect as you and
me
(Takeaway –
from year to year I understand less and less)
The First Casualty of War - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
The First Casualty of War
Is a 19-year-old PFC
Thinking Outside the Box, Bag, or Other Sustainable Rain-Forest Ethically-Sourced Container - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Thinking
Outside the Box, Bag, or Other
Sustainable
Rain-Forest Ethically-Sourced Container
If
Everyone is Thinking Just Alike
They are
Trump’s cabinet
Now let’s all go get tattoos
Tuesday, March 17, 2026
Oscars 2026 - Specimens in a Glass Cage
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Oscars 2026 – Specimens in a Glass Cage
After watching for a few minutes of given time
Their clumsy humor and predictable set-pieces
Subsuming souls into their toxic clime
One realizes
That these unhappy creatures are not our species
"Just for Fun" - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
“Just for Fun”
Now someday when those demented old men
Are guided each to his courtroom seat
To account again for terror and sin
And face the judgements the magistrates may mete
Smoke, vultures, and lies will still stain the skies
Over rotting blood shed from the shallow-buried dead
While unseeing eyes echo stricken Rachel’s cries
(“An excursion,” and “just for fun,” one of them pled)
But we will share the shame in that docket too
When the Almighty asks of each of us
“What did YOU
do?”
Napoleon Surveys His Split-Screen Image of Moscow and Teheran - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Napoleon Surveys His Split-Screen Image of Moscow and Teheran
I.
Operation Roar of the lion Epic Fury
Little Excursion Art of the Dignified Transfer
II.
The war is very complete beginning, middle, or end
Four to five weeks unconditional surrender
Four to six weeks very soon short term short term
We’re winning the war by a lot pretty much
It’s not protracted this is not endless
Some time to achieve whatever the time is
Substantially ahead of our time projections
III.
I will receive the surrender delegation now
Whaddaya mean there’s no surrender delegation?
Someone’s smoking. Someone’s smoking. Stop it!
Is there a little touch of frost in the air?
I Admire You - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
I Admire You
I admire you – because, you see, you argue with me
Because
You give your neighbors cookies instead
of suspicion
You nudge verbs against nouns and find
truth
You listen for music I can never hear
I admire you – because you play in the
garden with words
Because
You’re
having a love affair with the world
You
help people who will never like you
You
make the sun rise each day with your song
I admire you – because you, see, you argue with me
(Even though you
know I am soooooooooo right!)
Dignified Transfer - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Dignified Transfer
Home / Collection
Lines / Golden Trump
Products
White
Save America With Gold Donald Trump
Signature
Hat Show your support for Donald Trump’s
mission with the “White Save America
With Gold Donald Trump Signature
Hat,” featuring
a pristine white background, bold
“Save America”
slogan, and Trump’s gold signature.
Crafted
from 100% cotton with an adjustable
strap,
this stylish and durable hat is
perfect
for rallies, outdoor activities, and
everyday wear.
$24.99
Except for the line breaks, verbatim from:
White Save America With Gold Donald Trump Signature Hat |
Trump Superstore
Unknown Saint - 25 Cents: poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Unknown Saint – 25 Cents
A little plastic statue of a saint
(In context, am I permitted to say “tchotchke?”)
A woman in white with a flowered crown
And a tiny crucifix in her tiny hand
She stood between a broken-bladed pocketknife
And an HO gauge caboose without wheels
There was a Barbie with her arms ripped off
And an I LIKE IKE button from 1952
The little saint now stands upon my shelf
Gently to remind me of my better self
The Unnatural Abhor a Vacuum - poem
Lawrence
Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's
Journal of Life, Literature and Love
The Unnatural Abhor a
Vacuum
What Happens Now to Kristi Noem’s Warehouse Jails? - The
Atlantic
With their chatelaine gone all those warehouses
Sheeted in corrugated iron under the summer sun
And encircled, festooned, with razor wire
Stand empty in the desert, waiting for – you?
Their industrial disassembly lines
Scientifically designed to rip away lives
And lest they rust away from neglect and disuse
There must be bodies to feed into them
Starving on thin soup from stainless steel bowls
And pity the guards – who are starving their own
souls
He Could Have Bench-Pressed a Honda - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
He Could Have Bench-Pressed a Honda
In his youth he could have bench-pressed a Honda
He posed with cheerleaders whom he was quite fond of
One seated on each arm, his muscles to flout
In photographs their grandchildren now wonder about
On the field of sport he could do it all –
His forward passes like lightning would fall
Many a massive lineman fell to his block
And many a quarterback to his gentle knock
He was the class stud; I was the class fool
He’s now a janitor at our old school
(And I’m still a fool…)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
