The End of the World - There are Crumbs all Over Your Shirt

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

There are Crumbs all Over Your Shirt

For a friend who must remain anonymous

A man in silences sniffs the air and notes
That wolves are lurking in the nearby copse

And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”

A man in grief meditates a tragedy
And weigh its pain between scripture and prayer

And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”

A man observes a burning house; alarmed,
He rushes in to save an endangered child

And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”

A man has trouble opening the door:
“Dear Wife, there is a corpse upon the mat.”

And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”

The missiles fall, the skies and moon turn red
The tides run high, are littered with the dead
The air is poisoned (which is always odd)
A man says “We must give our lives to God.”



And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.
And wipe your feet; I just mopped the
floor.”

Even the Frogs are Plotting Against Us

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Shhhhh…Even the Frogs
are Plotting Against Us

Little green frog upon the window screen
What are your intentions? What do you mean?
No Yankee Doodle Frog lurks in the night
Devouring bugs with its reptilian bite
Perhaps you are the newest Vatican drone
Programmed to spy out this domestic zone
Reporting to your masters in Peking
Your victim’s times for sleeping and waking
And sending secret codes from ice cream trucks
Unmarked UN chickens whose lying clucks
Are beamed from behind those closed big-box
stores
Political prisoners locked behind their doors -
But we with our emails will overwhelm
The NATO conspiracy of Jade Helm!