Wednesday, August 31, 2022

Cockroaches and Cold-Callers - rhyming doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Cockroaches and Cold-Callers

 

We honor life as part of God’s creation

Its good is an objective reality

Cruelty to animals is an abomination

(Though a cockroach we flush with fiendish glee)

 

“Hi, this is Heather; we’re taking a survey…”

 

There are variations on this Leaden Rule

For if you haven’t sent a cockroach down the loo

(This practice should be taught in every school)

An telephone cold-caller will certainly do

 

“Good morning! We’re giving away free siding…”

 

Thus you may WOOOOSH! a swindler or a roach

Completely free of any self-reproach

 

“This isn’t a sales call; we only want to ask…”

Tuesday, August 30, 2022

As Neatly Packaged as a Letter-Bomb - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Brilliance of Propaganda

 

“Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it”

 

-Lady Macbeth

 

We have seen vituperation beautifully expressed

In the most elegant meter and rhyme

Wild shriekings crafted with an artist’s skill

And as neatly packaged as a letter-bomb

Sunday, August 28, 2022

Silencing Rooster Cogburn - weekly column, 28 August 2022

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Silencing Rooster Cogburn

 

True Grit appeared on the Orwellian telescreen the other night, and I found myself watching that wonderful film yet again.

 

The climax of the film comes when John Wayne as Marshal Rooster Cogburn confronts Robert Duvall’s Lucky Ned Pepper and his gang. After a few prefatory remarks of ritual verbal abuse, Ned sneeringly demands that Rooster state his intentions or get out of the way.

 

“I mean to kill you in one minute, Ned, or see you hanged in Fort smith at Judge Parker’s convenience,” replies Rooster. “Which’ll it be?”

 

After some wonderfully Snidely Whiplash laughter from the desperadoes, Ned taunts Rooster with, “I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!”

 

And then comes The Moment – The Moment, The Academy Award Moment - when Rooster challenges Ned and his entire gang with perhaps the most famous line in the history of cinema…

 

But the line was not spoken; The Moment never came.

 

The center, the axis, the climax of this great film was silenced for television by some officious busy-body.

 

While Rooster spins his rifle in a menacing manner and Ned and the lads are laughing at him, let us pause and consider the insensitivities that have preceded this moment in True Grit:

 

1.   Tom Chaney murders Mattie’s father with a gutshot.

2.   Three prisoners are hanged on the courthouse square before a mocking crowd which includes children

3.   A federal marshal repeatedly handles prisoners with inappropriate roughness and occasional brutality.

4.   A Chinese character is stereotyped, although we must admit that he gives the marshal a good what-fer when necessary.

5.   There is some casual stereotyping of American Indians.

6.   The body count in the film would require a statistician, and the deaths are gruesome.

7.   Several adults threaten the life of a child.

8.   A child shoots an adult.

9.   As for Mattie’s snide remarks about Texas senators and bird dogs, we should let them stand with some sympathy for bird dogs.

 

Dozens die in the film, but That Line, that Academy Award line without which the story would fail to be true to the vision of the book’s author and the artistry of the film’s professionals, must apparently not be spoken lest it give offense to the delicate among us.

 

Look, the metaphor Rooster uses in the uncut version is pretty rough, and on the lips of almost anyone else would come across as adolescent potty-mouth-ness. But in the context of this great film and as spoken by John Wayne, yep, it’s a work of art.

 

But what about the children who might hear it?

 

The prime duty in raising a child belongs to the parent.

 

Thus, the parent must guide his (the pronoun is gender-neutral) child’s cultural experiences.

 

After all, it is pointless and indeed hypocritical to give a child unrestricted access to a MePhone or the InterGossip and then demand that a cinema, an author, an artist, a public library, a museum, or other cultural milieux surrender their freedom of cultural exchanges with other adults.

 

In sum, know when to turn off the television in your own house. That’s your decision, not someone else’s

 

-30-

An Extended Warranty - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

An Extended Warranty

 

You buy something and the man behind the counter

Asks you if you want to pay extra for a warranty

And when you ask why, doesn’t the gadget work

He’s grumpily ready for you to move on

 

Most things in life don’t have extended warranties:

Love, Hershey bars, tree frogs on the window screen

The John Wayne movie machine that broke long ago

But memories of MeeMaw are always fresh

 

You live through pain, and He who is beyond the stars

Gives it meaning – that’s the warranty

Saturday, August 27, 2022

Trust the Official Texas State God - That's an Order

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Trust the Official Texas State God – That’s an Order

 

Some say

“All of us worship the same god, you know”

But what makes them think that this is so?





 Is ‘In God We Trust’ an assertion of Christian nationalism or of American history in public schools? – Baptist News Global


Texas schools hanging 'In God We Trust' signs after new state law requiring donated signs be posted | Fox News

Thoreau-ly August - doggerel about the heat

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Thoreau-ly August

 

“The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation,”

Protested Thoreau in hopeless exasperation.

One would not enter into disputation

With a famous writer of great reputation

 

But

 

Alas that here our lives are rank perspiration!

 

-      From The Road to Magdalena, 2012

(Available on amazon)

Friday, August 26, 2022

Allusions to DOCTOR ZHIVAGO, Patrick McGoohan's THE PRISONER, Kafka, Orwell, and Mordor

 

Dear Anonymous Google Accuser:

 

Thank you for your note, the contents of which sound much like the block warden’s caution (“Your attitude is noticed, comrade.”) to Yuri in the film version of Doctor Zhivago.

 

I have re-read the column, which I wrote nine years ago, and find nothing offensive in it (although it is rather puerile), nor do you detail exactly what is offensive in it and why I should be sanctioned. You are being Kafka-esque, and I say this as someone who has read Kafka: you do not tell me what offense I have purportedly committed nor do you face me with an accuser. You do not even face me with you, for you do not give your name. You employ the passive voice in referring to an “Adult Content policy” and to “Community Guidelines,” which sounds like something from an episode of Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner: “The Committee won’t like this, Number Six.”

 

Google (and one could find “google” offensive, with its history mocking someone’s physical characteristics) is a private company, and so is free to publish or not publish, as is only right.  And I am free to pity Google for moral, ethical, and literary cowardice.

 

I was raised in situational poverty, barely graduated from high school, and spent 18 months in Viet-Nam. Upon returning to the USA (with life-long skin cancer which the DVA denies) I worked straight nights (double shifts on weekends) as an ambulance driver and later an LVN to put myself through university. I taught for almost forty years in public school, community college, and university as an adjunct instructor of no status whatsoever. In retirement I volunteered with our local school’s reading program until the Covid ended that, and I still volunteer with the lads at the local prison. I volunteer in community cleanup after our hurricanes (tho’ I’m getting a little old for that). I’ve worked hard all my life, paid my taxes, paid off my house at age 70, receive only half of my Social Security because of some vague law, and never gamed the system. Indeed, I would say that the system has gamed me.

 

And was all of this so that some frightened committee of anonymous inquisitors staring at an Orwellian telescreen or a Mordor-ish Palantir could find an innocuous scribble insensitive?

 

Pffffft.

 

Sincerely,

 

Lawrence Hall

 

 

Thursday, August 25, 2022

Pontifex Minimus - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Pontifex Minimus

 

I met a man who once lived under a bridge

He said that was when he was happiest

But he found Jesus and civilization

So they put him in prison

He likes having a bed and three meals each day

But he misses his bridge

A Woman Hollering and a Train Passing By - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Woman Hollering and a Train Passing By

 

Next to the post office sags a trailer house

Where a fat old woman in a onesie

Was grilling something in her littered yard

Maybe some hot dogs, or just some dogs

 

A cigarette bounced about on her lip

As she screamed at me for driving by her life

Possibly she thought I was after her beer cans

Or her virtue, or her front-porch couch

 

A Santa Fe freight blew by, obscuring her words

And I accelerated, escaping her sorrows

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

The Prince-Poet-Cat of Gatineau, Quebec - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Prince-Poet-Cat of Gatineau, Quebec

 

For Pushkin, of Happy Memory

And His House Pets Abbie and Alexander

 

In an ice-cream summer in the long ago

I met a marvelous cat in Gatineau

 

Pushkin by name, a fastidious Russian

His shiny fur coat never needed brushin’

 

He purred in an elegant iambic tetrameter

Precisely in its orderly parameter

 

A cat, of course, needn’t meter his speech

For a cat is a poem whose motions teach:

 

Running

Leaping

Sleeping

Purring

pouncing

Growling

Yowling

Howling

Twitching

Lurking

Sneaking

Posing

Dreaming

Snuggling

 

While in all things giving his children delight

 

In an ice-cream summer in the long ago

I met a marvelous cat in Gatineau

Monday, August 22, 2022

if We Change Channels All the Pain Will Go Away - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

If We Change Channels All the Pain Will Go Away

 

Captors are shooting trembling prisoners of war

We can watch them writhing as they die

Screaming silently into our telescreens

American Idol is on 282

Saturday, August 20, 2022

Are We but Obscure Lines in Ezekiel? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Are We but Obscure Lines in Ezekiel?

 

Maybe we are doing time along the Chebar

But we are not in Babylonian captivity

Only in the captivity of our choices:

We fouled our own endeavors, our own lives

 

We banned and burned our books, our music, our art

Upon the orders of megaphone fuhrers

Sacrificing Truth on their altars of fear

We abandoned duty and found ourselves alone

 

Dry bones, dry bones in a desert of despair

But, shush – what is that Sound from over there…?

 

Friday, August 19, 2022

Whatever Happened to Clarence Eustace Scrubb? - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

 

Whatever Happened to Clarence Eustace Scrubb?

 

He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators

or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.

 

-C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

 

 

He was so good at banning ideas that later

They made him a Texas school administrator

 

 

Keller ISD to remove challenged books | The Texas Tribune


(You will of course remember that in Mr. Lewis' wonderful book Scrubb became a fine young man at the end. There is also hope for book banners, book banners, and censorious old biddies of both sexes - may their eyes open soon to the joys of 10,000 years of literature!)

Thursday, August 18, 2022

Strippers Bid to Unionize in Los Angeles - rhyming couplet

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Strippers Bid to Unionize in Los Angeles

 

-news item

 

To what enormity is this action owed –

Could there be an issue with the strict dress code?

Wednesday, August 17, 2022

Veterans' Cremation Benefits - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Veterans’ Cremation Benefits

 

-Ad on the InterGossip

 

AMTRACS with gas tanks beneath the floor

White phosphorus grenades gone bad, gone wrong

The Parrot’s Beak burning throughout the night

Napalm, burning flesh, screams, horror, death

 

A burnt man flailing about in agony

And where the hell is that dust-off now?

Copper sulphate, Sulfamylon, Kerlix, Telfa pads

We know about cremation well enough

 

But now tell us about our benefits

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

A Librarian is Your Fairy Godmother - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Librarian is Your Fairy Godmother

 

For Miss Kelly,

Who Captured the Castle

 

A librarian is your fairy godmother

Who blesses her children with the gift of books

Her magic wand is a date-due stamp

Which just for you she will then ignore

 

She lives with brave Cassie in Mississippi

And in the greenwood with bold Robin Hood

On Wildcat Island, in Narnia and Middle-Earth -

She sails you there on bean-bag pirate ships

 

And if you’re nice to others (so please don’t tickle)

There might be a gift of watermelon pickle!

After We Shoot the Traitors Let's Go for a Hamburger - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG

mhall4618@aol.com

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com


After We Shoot the Traitors Let’s Go for a Hamburger

 

Th’ devil’s in control; you could look it up

It’s right there in some righteous Christian podcasts

An’ we need to be armed against th’ Left

Like them pizza child molesters and stuff

 

I got me my AR-15 against them devils

DON’T CALL IT AN ASSAULT RIFLE!!!!!

It’ll blow uh liberal’s head right off

DON’T CALL IT AN ASSAULT RIFLE!!!!!

 

And this is a REPUBLIC, not a DEMOCRACY!

If they mess up my fry order I’m gonna shoot someone

Monday, August 15, 2022

Sunday, August 14, 2022

Hurricane Disaster Relief Kits - weekly column, 14 August 2022

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Hurricane Disaster Relief Kits

 

This summer the Bishop of Beaumont is promoting a good idea and the organizational skills to make it so throughout the diocese: small, easily transportable plastic bags of needful items for anyone displaced by hurricanes, fires, tornadoes, or other disasters.

 

And in this part of the world, all of us have been displaced, and will be again. Hurricanes and flooding have sent us on the road or onto the boats, sometimes without a known destination. Some of us have bank accounts and credit cards and places to go; many don’t. And the places we go or the places we where we are isolated might not have the systems in place or the supplies to accomplish transactions. You can’t buy a band-aid or a razor or a towel if alligators are swimming through the muck where the grocery store used to be.

 

Many churches and other service organizations provide food, cooked when possible and as boxes of field rations when not, portable shower units, tents, tarps, first-aid, and other necessities for life as refugees.

 

The bishop’s throw-and-go (No, don’t actually throw it; you’d hurt someone) bags of non-food (and thus non-perishable) items are adjuncts, something to be handed out through existing services or by themselves as necessary. He has asked every family in the diocese to package a standard but flexible list of items sealed in a waterproof plastic bag to contribute to disaster relief. These kits are then stored in spaces in churches and rectories, ready for immediate giveaway to those headed to safety. The list:

 

One bath towel

Two wash cloths

Three bars of bath soap

One hairbrush

Three disposable razors

One can of shaving cream

Two toothbrushes

One tube of toothpaste

One stick of deodorant

One container of skin lotion

One small general-purpose first-aid kit

One package of ball point pens

One container of multi-purpose anti-bacterial ointment

One small LED flashlight

 

Many of these items wouldn’t require a new purchase. Most of us have good old towels and wash clothes that can be freshly laundered and packed. After all, someone under a bridge trying to get the kid cleaned up while the storm is blowing isn’t going to be picky about a new label and a brand name.

 

If you haven’t got three bars of soap, one would do, or maybe a couple of those little plastic bottles of shampoo pinched from the Holiday Inn.

 

Some things, such as hairbrushes and toothbrushes, ought to be new. Sure you can boil the germs and boogers and cooties out of them, but, still, new is better.

 

I saw one of these throw-and-go kits stocked, but on the list the first-aid kit notation was lined out and replaced with a box of band-aids. That’s a practical substitution.

 

Tiny little flashlights can now be bought cheaply by the dozen and they are so useful. We have so many illuminated gadgets in our houses that not until a power failure do we realize how dark the night is for us diurnal creatures. A flashlight is not only something for helping us see, but to be seen by – in addition to our voices, difficult to locate in the darkness, the rescuers can also see a light for determining location.

 

What shoulda / coulda / woulda been on the list is certainly a topic for discussion, but a sine qua non is that the distribution and handling of any one throw-and-go kit shouldn’t require a crew or any strength.  Putting these together is something all of us can do through our churches, volunteer organizations, schools, youth groups, and businesses.

 

In a disaster even the best and strongest among us cannot accomplish all that needs to be done. The little throw-and-go kits are a small contribution that anyone can make, and make now, before they are needed.

 

Those who will use them – because there will be hurricanes and evacuations - won’t know your name, nor will the bishop, but God certainly will.

 

-30-

 

Afghanistan: A Steady Diet of Invaders - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Steady Diet of Invaders

 

“And the end of the fight is a tombstone white with the name of the late deceased,
 And the epitaph drear:  "A Fool lies here who tried to hustle the East”

 

-Kipling, “The Decline of the West”

 

This is the day, they say, that Kabul fell

A year ago - but Kabul did not fall

It’s still there: invaders come, invaders die

Pale British, Russians, and Americans

 

Afghanistan has eaten all of them

It even devours its own, and gnaws the bones

And all are dust along the Hindu Kush

Where lizards scuttle among imperial dreams

 

That land where caravans and mystics roam –

 

Let’s mind our own business and stay at home

Saturday, August 13, 2022

.553 / Free to Be / Dead, You See - doggerel


Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

.553 / Free to Be / Dead, You See


"Sheathe your sword, Morville, before you impale

your soul upon it."

-Richard Burton as Becket 


When this weapon blows a child’s head off

Don’t worry about that trifle

For the AR technically

Is not an assault rifle

Friday, August 12, 2022

Breakfast in Constantinople - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Breakfast in Constantinople

 

The waitress greeted us in Saint Petersburg

We drank strong coffee in Alexandria

Our omelets were served in Cambridgeshire

As we gossiped in the narthex of Hagia Sophia

 

We briefly sat in the halls of Congress and idled

And said good morning to Shelley and Keats

We admonished die Rheintochter to behave themselves

But they ignored us and flirted with some sailors

 

What fun in table-talk as the day begins -

There’s nothing more joyful than breakfast with friends!

Thursday, August 11, 2022

A Rosary of Childhood Summers - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Rosary of Childhood Summers

 

“And summer’s lease hath all too short a date”

 

-Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

 

Between infancy and adolescence

Ten summers form a crown of memories

An Eden of bare feet and ice cream bars

That inform the dreams of our after-years

 

Each day is its own rosary of life

Those works and books and thoughts and ordinary chores

That with their attendant offerings and prayers

Give meaning to the mysteries of life

 

But we tell best those holy beads of youth

Whose innocent joys began our search for Truth

Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Opposite the House of Sculptures - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Opposite the House of Sculptures

 

“…unchanging, shrill, crazy exclamations and demands, which became progressively more impractical, meaningless, and unfulfillable…”

 

-Doctor Zhivago, Part Two, Chapter 13, “Opposite the House of Sculptures”

 

O strong man, strong man, Supremo Alpha-Weenie

Please be our Putin, Hitler, or Mussolini

 

O strong man, strong man; tell us what to think

Pour us some Jim Jones; we’ll take a real deep drink

 

O strong man, strong man; tell us what to do

We’ll happily go to prison just for you

 

O strong man, strong man; clench your mighty fist

You put for us the “GO” in your “jingoist”

 

O strong man, strong man, you are our latest god

Please break us to obedience with your mighty rod

 

O strong man, strong man, you are our highest law

Whatever dribbles from your mouth we listen in awe

 

O strong man, strong man, we are your little elves

We promise to stow our history upon the shelves

And never, ever again think for ourselves

 

 

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

Getting the Cows Up for the Evening Milking - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Getting the Cows Up for the Evening Milking

 

My brother and I, barefootin’ down the lane

With an apple each, and a stick the cows ignore

A hot dry evening; sure wish there was some rain

I bonked Ol’ Bessie with an apple core

 

And if Dad saw that I’d sure get a switchin’

He taught us to treat animals fair and right

The late-summer grass gets my legs to itchin’

The milking follows, well into the August night

 

I’d give up my adventures, the places I’ve been

If I could get the cows up once again

Monday, August 8, 2022

A Prisoner's Modest Dream - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Prisoner’s Modest Dream

 

Some humorist on parade: “When the war is over…I’m going to buy a German and keep him the garden and count him.”

 

-Wodehouse in a German detention camp,

quoted in Frances Donaldson’s P. G. Wodehouse: A Biography

 

When this is all over I pray for us

To sit in in my yard in some cheap Wal-Mart chairs

Each of us with a beer and a cigar

We could talk about the joys of fresh air

 

We could talk about our families and our work

And air-conditioning, and our home addresses

No longer A-43-Upper or B-24-Lower

We could sing about the Day of Jubilee

 

And give our voices and our lives to God

And there wouldn’t ever be a head count

Sunday, August 7, 2022

Don't Follow the Science - weekly column, 7 August 2022

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Don’t Follow the Science

 

“Follow the science” is itself an unscientific expression, personifying science as a sort of cosmic Boy Scout troop leader or perhaps a soldier taking the point. It suggests that we should not follow our hearts (which is just as illogical), our music, our dreams, or anything else except science personified almost as a deity.

 

But science is an abstract concept, not a person. The word comes from “scientia,” Latin for knowledge of all sorts. In our time we have narrowed the term for the purpose of discovering and proving facts that can be demonstrated to be valid or invalid [6 Steps of the Scientific Method (thoughtco.com)]. 

 

As an example, we humans have designed instruments arbitrarily marked with numbers for measuring the air temperature for utility. Even so, a scientist would not say that today’s temperature is 60 degrees Fahrenheit; he or she would say that at a given time a given thermometer at a given location read 60 degrees Fahrenheit. He might go further and remind us that thermometers almost never agree with each other. So what is the temperature? Scientifically, we can’t really know, but even a caveman could tell us if the day feels warm or cold.

 

Unfortunately, many humans tend to accept uncritically almost any allegation to which the label “science” is attached, especially if that allegation is made via the Orwellian Telescreens seemingly superglued to our hands. If a piece of information is beamed to us through a little made-in-China box that lights up and make noises then it must be true, right?

 

We fancy we have in some way progressed because we believe in little boxes instead of the Delphic Oracle, but in the event they are only little boxes.

 

Even scientists aren’t always scientific; now they name storms and even attribute agency to them, a form of personification that reminds us of Greek paganism. 

 

This brings us to the French scientist who posted to the InterGossip (which is scientific) a photograph (also scientific) allegedly taken by the James Webb Space Telescope (yes, scientific) and promoted it as a super-golly-gee-whiz image (scientific) of Proxima Centauri, a far-off star.

 

After a month or so, the scientist admitted that the picture he promoted as a wonderful bit of science was in fact not a star but a cross section of a sausage. He said he was only joking [Scientist admits 'space telescope' photo is actually chorizo in tasty Twitter prank (msn.com)].

 

Follow the science, right?

 

When someone says “follow the science” what he almost always means is that he uncritically believes whatever babble he last read on the InterGossip. In his small world, “you could research it” means to access whatever conspiracies are floating around among Orwellian telescreens without ever once considering the possibility that they might be inaccurate or even impossible – “Q,” for instance, or Hillary Clinton dismembering children in a pizza parlor, or the reincarnation of John F. Kennedy Jr. on the Grassy Knoll.

 

Not so long ago anyone positing such absurdities would have been laughed out of the conversation; now that we have the science of the InterGossip beamed through the science of little glowing boxes there are people who now believe such nonsense and sometimes act on it to the harm of others.

 

Following the science seems mostly to be a matter of bellowing thought-denying chants through bullhorns and raising clenched fists at each other instead of thinking things through and considering all the possibilities with both clarity and charity.

 

The six steps of the scientific method constitute a valid means of examining only those facts which can be evaluated and measured. Science cannot examine love, flowers, sunsets, a father playing catch with his child, or old friends playing chess around a fire, and so science, while valid in its own orbit, is but an incomplete study of Creation. Science itself is not a god, and we dare not presume to treat it as one.

 

-30-

Saturday, August 6, 2022

The Nicest Funeral That Never Was - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Nicest Funeral That Never Was

 

The doors of the church of my long-ago youth

Were locked; I peeked through the glass and saw

Huge Peavey speakers dangling in holy silence

Above where the Altar used to be

 

When friends arrived we pondered the mystery

Of a man’s reported death and cremation

With obsequies scheduled for Saturday

Yes, said the passer-by we asked about it

 

A Saturday next month, and so we loosened our ties

And over fingers of Scotch we asked our whys

Friday, August 5, 2022

An Active School Meeting in Progress - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

An Active School Meeting in Progress

 

A motion to adjourn is always in order

 

This morning I drove by my old school

A staff meeting was being committed inside

Perpetrating crimes against intelligence

“HELLO MY NAME IS”

                                      10,000 years of civilization?

 

Doughnuts and foam cups of coffee

 

“IT’S A GREAT DAY TO BE A WILDCAT!”

Or a lion, a tiger, a platypus

The new superintendent loves Jesus

His family, children, and America

 

Doughnuts and foam cups of coffee

 

He introduces the motivational speaker

Who loves Jesus, his family, children

America, and unsourced parables

“MAKE THIS THE BEST YEAR EVER! HOO-AH!”

 

Doughnuts and foam cups of coffee

 

The coaches sit in the back reading the sports pages

And Campbell’s Texas Football – a point of privilege

English teachers count split infinitives in the program

“LET’S ALL HOLD HANDS AND SING OUR ALMA MATTER [sic]!”

 

Doughnuts and foam cups of coffee

 

Generally speaking I’m against the death penalty

I’d make an exception for motivational speakers

 

It’s for the children

Thursday, August 4, 2022

A Sad Old Man on the Witness Stand - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Sad Old Man on the Witness Stand

 

How easy it is to scorn the man we see

Bloated and loud-mouthed, insolent to all

A foul and loathsome tormentor of souls

A false accuser, a treacherous man

 

And now we see him brought low at last

Sweating and coughing and goggling his eyes

The tormentor now snarling in outrage and fear

His lies and greed and hate turned back on him

 

A curious thing about this squirming creature:

Maybe in him we see something of ourselves

Wednesday, August 3, 2022

Social Security Online FFTTT!

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Social Security Online

 

We have suspended electronic access

to your personal information we tried

three times to match the information you provided

with our records but were unable

to do so you may electronic information

again after 24 hours please verify

your personal information again

before trying to use this suspension

will not affect any Social Security benefits

you receive for further assistance please contact

EXIT My Social Security Request

a replacement social security card

we’re sorry we cannot accept online requests

at this time please try again later

you may begin a replacement social security

card request using another online social

may also contact your local office

for other replacement card options DONE

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

If I Win the Lottery - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

If I Win the Lottery

 

Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.

 

-Fr. Zosima in Book II, Chapter 2 of The Brothers Karamazov

 

If I win the lottery, which is unlikely

Because I never buy a ticket, you know

I’m going to have cases of the Modern Library edition

Of The Brothers Karamazov shipped to me.

 

For the rest of my life I will give copies

To everyone I meet: men in red plastic caps

Mensheviks, Bolsheviks, vegetarians

A lonely soul waiting at the bus stop

 

Dostoyevsky for everyone

If I win the lottery

Monday, August 1, 2022

Undocumented Gardening - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Undocumented Gardening

 

Last week I planted my autumn garden

          No permits were required

This evening I dragged hoses in this drought

          No reports were assigned

 

This morning I freshened the water for the bees

          There was no sign-in sheet

And then I used a machine for cutting weeds

          No evaluations

 

And then while resting in the leafy shade

I inventoried the grasses, blade by blade

The Mystery of the Lunar Month - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Mystery of the Lunar Month

 

The reality of the lunar month

A tiny bat jerking and jinking through the dusk

In pursuit of its evening mosquitoes

Beneath a far-up vapor trail

 

The mystery of the lunar month

Calculated by wise ones in the long ago

With night far gentler than the solar heat

And minds more subtle than the glare of day

 

Each a mathematical autocrat

(Smoking an after-dinner ziggurat?)