Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
When Alliteration Goes Bad
Peter
Piper
Picked
a
Peck
of
Pickled
Hamsters
Saturday, August 23, 2025
When Alliteration and Peter Piper Go Bad - nonsense
Friday, August 22, 2025
To a True Believer: When I.C.E. Runs Out of Immigrants - quatrain
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
To a True Believer: When I.C.E. Runs out of Immigrants
Many genuine Bolsheviks who were arrested at that time utterly refused to believe that this had happened with (Stalin’s) knowledge, still less on his personal instructions.
-Yevtushenko, A Precocious Autobiography, p. 17
When your steel sleeping shelf is next to mine
Three or four racks high under lock and key
You will cry out again in your petulant whine:
“But I voted for him!
This was not supposed to happen to ME!”
Thursday, August 21, 2025
“I Pray You, Remember the Porter” - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“I Pray You, Remember
the Porter”
-Macbeth
II.ii.20-21
When I was a young husband and father
I served: on the parish council, taught CCD
Chaperoned bake sales, CYO, and youth trips
Eucharistic minister, lector, and greeter
(No one else could hand out a leaflet with such grace, such elegance, such panache)
But with age, and one by one, I let them go
This morning I asked to be recused at last
From thirty years on the lector duty list
“God’s benison go with you…”
As lector
I lost confidence in sorting out the new ways of doing
things
Of being where I’m supposed to be
And moving when I’m supposed to do so
And moving where I’m supposed to do so
Carrying the lectionary without dropping it
Mounting the Altar steps without tripping
Standing in one place for more than a few minutes
Seeing the words clearly (why is
the print so small?)
Wreathing the verbs without thripping over my thongue
But I’m still a greeter – I can open the door
‘Tis my appointed skill level, but ‘tis one
As Macduff did not say
No leaflets, though; that stuff’s now on the InterGossip
I smile and open the door, admire babies, help with coats
Show visitors the way to the euphemism
Tell the kids how tall they’ve grown
(You’re a senior!? Why, I remember when…)
And it’s okay.
I am blessed with honour, love, and troops of friends
(as Macbeth
could not say)
Honour, love, and troops of friends
All good.
Deo gratias
America Inspires the Free World - couplet
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
America Inspires the Free World
Americans are a people who, when threatened by a tyrant
Watch TV to applaud someone for cooking an omelet
An Exercise in Alliteration Cut Short by the August Heat - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
An Exercise in Alliteration
Cut Short by the August Heat
Even summer seems weary with summer:
Withering weeds wish woefully for winter
High heat hangs heavily upon the heath
While garden groundlings gasp across the grass
Resettlement to the East on Kristi's Personal Prisoner Airline - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“Resettlement to the East”
Kristi Noem is pushing for ICE to buy and operate a fleet of deportation planes, sources say
Drain the swamp for a better America
On Qatari Boeings detailed in gold
With interiors by Hugo Boss
Saturday, August 16, 2025
Dust Devils on a Sunday Morning in August - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Dust Devils on a Sunday Morning in
August
The Road to Emmaus is asphalt now
Instead of dust devils spinning in the heat
The stench of curious chemicals flow
In shimmerings among the hovering oaks
Above the crisping-brown fields circling vultures
Seem focused on me – do they sense a decaying soul?
My great-grandfather drove a wagon to church
I have air-conditioning, and Chopin on the radio
The Road to Emmaus is asphalt now
But you still might meet a Stranger along the way
A Bronze Plaque Commemorating the Trump-Putin Summit at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Bronze Plaque
Commemorating the Trump-Putin Summit
at Joint Base
Elmendorf-Richardson
On this spot on the
15th of August 2025
Nothing happened
The Shroud of Turin is True Again Today! Or Maybe Not! - doggerel having fun with the U. K. DAILY MAIL
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The Shroud of Turin is True Again
Today! Or Maybe Not!
The ghost of Amelia
Earhart speaks
The U.K.
Daily Mail examined the Shroud of Turin
And found
Amelia Earhart wrapped up inside:
“Hey! This is
my shroud for private buryin’!
So don’t just
stand there, all goofy and bug-eyed!”
“You keep
changing the place where you found my plane
And yesterday
you said the Shroud of Turin is bogus
Today you say
it’s real – you babble in vain
The ghost of
me wishes you would find a focus”
The U.K.
Daily Mail found Amelia Earhart’s plane –
Tomorrow
they’ll be sure to lose it again
Thursday, August 14, 2025
Our Little Universities - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Our Little Universities
From an idea by Nivek
Many books are little universities
Complete with faculties and study halls
Grassy lawns on which to argue ideas
Syllabi written from your heart and mind
Laboratories of the mind for distilling wisdom
A concert hall of happy voices in song
“Pomes All Sizes” spoken from the heart
And maybe a Rain Tree on your walk to class
The Brothers Karamazov as a prayer book
300 Tang Poems with the wisdom of China
The Oxford Book of English Verse, edited by Q
(Not THAT Q!)
Doctor Zhivago in squabbling translations
And some have spoken most eloquently
for Goodnight Moon
And now what university of yours helps sing
the world in tune?
Wednesday, August 13, 2025
Let’s All Meet in Cicely - sonnet
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Let’s All Meet in
Cicely
From an idea flown all the way from Thailand
Let’s all meet in Cicely before the snow
You can find me sitting outside The Brick
At peace as the gentle autumn breezes blow
Having put aside my hiking stick
Fleischmann joins us on that old wooden bench
Chris-in-the-Morning stops by for a beer
Hollings gives Shelly a husbandly pinch
She takes his broom and with it smacks his rear
Maurice and Maggie, Ruth-Anne, Marilyn, and Ed
Drop in with stories of love and life and history
And news brought in by plane and road and sled
To this Brigadoon of happy mystery
Let’s all meet in Cicely before the snow
And share in its peace before we go
Never Begin a Poem with “I” - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Never Begin a Poem with “I”
I suppose I have been commanded to write
These fragile words in attempted iambs
Which few will ever read or ever want to read
But then – you are reading them
Thank you
You've Read Your Last Free Article - not exactly a poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
You’ve Read Your Last
Free Article
Yes, I have.
(Click. Delete.)
Monday, August 11, 2025
Leave It To Beaver - The Shakespearean I.C.E. Episode - pastiche and doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Leave it to Beaver – The Shakespearean I.C.E. Episode
Dramatis Personae:
Ward, a husband and father
Wally, Ward’s teenaged son
June, Ward’s wife, accomplishing hussefery in a dress and pearls
Beaver, Ward and June’s younger son
Ward:
Wally, I knowest thou hath merry plans for the morrow
But I must tell thee, to thy woe and sorrow
That thou’rt to stay home, and mow the lawn
Wally:
Oh, golly, gee, seest thou my face turn wan?
Beloved father, I cannot with thy orders comport
For I cannot find my comradely passport
Nor, in addition to that paperwork dearth,
Yea, verily, my certificate of birth!
Without which workers are subject to arrest
By I.C.E., as the news and warnings attest
June:
‘Tis true – I.C.E. feareth every gangbanger and yob
But they will imprison some kid at his job
And Superman might get thee; I.C.E. hired him today
That is his new truth, justice, and th’American way
Beaver:
Gee, Wally, if thou’rt carried to Alcatraz
Can I have thy room?
Voice Off:
We needeth no stinkin’ warrants!
Exeunt omnes, pursued by Dogberries with guns
Sunday, August 10, 2025
Disturbances in Church - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Disturbances in Church
The more I am
disturbed by liturgical novelties
The less I am
disturbed by God
The less I am
disturbed by liturgical novelties
The more I am
disturbed by God
All of which
is logical, not odd
Saturday, August 9, 2025
Stopping by Literary Interpretations on a Snowy Evening - shallow rhyming doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Stopping by Literary Interpretations on a Snowy Evening
From an idea by a friend in Thailand
Whose Deconstructionist Narrative this is I think I know
Their (because we mustn’t say “her” or “his”)
New Criticism is on their podcast, though
They will not see me applying Phenomenology here
To help fill up their woods with Neo-Post-Colonialist blow
My little solar car must think it other-gendered
To pause while I Conceptualize without a Starbuck’s near
Between Foucault and Derrida here
Next to the Sapir-Whorf Theory, and without a beer
They give their location transponder a Derrida shake
To demand a formal apology for this cultural mistake
The only other sound’s the Existential creep
Of Masonic Catholic Nazi Zionism on the take
Judgmental stereotypes are flying, shallow and cheap
But I have an Inner Reality to keep
And an Intertextual Analysis of Post-Structuralism to steep
And an Aesthetic Objectification of Dialectics to steep
Friday, August 8, 2025
As You Sometimes Remind Me - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
As You Sometimes Remind Me
One day I'll suddenly
recall:
The sun exists!
-Pasternak, “About
These Poems”1
When the
world focuses on a sheet of paper
In a little
room where hopes have come to die
The pen can’t
write out a prescription for life
Or limn the
remedies for a fallen world
We begin our
days as did Pasternak
A cup of tea against
the fear, the fear
Unsure of the
conflicting daily edicts
The babblings
about ballrooms, tariffs, and arrests
Pasternak
opened a window to light and fair
And to the
children playing in the snow he cried,
“My dears, what
century is it outside?”
1Translations vary
Thursday, July 31, 2025
I Am Spartacus! (Okay, Maybe Not) - doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
I Am Spartacus! (Okay,
Maybe Not)
I am not Spartacus!
I don’t wanna die!
No, really, let’s discuss
The death of some other guy!
A Variation on the Privacy Tour - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Variation on the Privacy Tour
We Ask
Everyone to Respect Our Family’s Privacy
Except for
the Go Fund Me everyone will see
And the
reception at the Something Hall, date and time
And the Go
Fund Me everyone will see
And the
visitation, date and time
And the Go
Fund Me everyone will see
And the
services at Our Lady of Something, date and time
And the Go
Fund Me everyone will see
And the
interment at Something Cemetery, date and time
And the Go
Fund Me everyone will see
And the
scholarship fundraiser
And the Go
Fund Me everyone will see
The Strange Adventure of Tarzan, the Epsteinian Files, and The Burn-Bags of Opar - perfectly awful doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The Strange Adventure
of Tarzan, the Epsteinian Files,
and The Burn-Bags of
Opar
I am not at liberty to lay before the inquiring minds of an
objective public the manner in which the curious document and chilling testimony
below came into my possession except that this was through the offices of a mysterious
midnight visitor on business from Porlock with a wooden leg and an ivory eye of
curious and antique design – or was that an ivory leg and a wooden eye? – and I
must assure the reader that it was the visitor from Porlock who made do with a
tapping ivory eye and a sightless wooden leg or sightless eye and tapping artificial
leg, not the pleasant village of Porlock, because English villages are
possessed of streets and lanes, not eyes and legs, on a stormy night at the
time of the equinoctial gales when ships put to sea knowing that they (the
crews, not the ships) must place their lives into the hands of our merciful and
loving God who knoweth all things and disposeth all things and so now pray take
a seat and light your pipe while I set my spectacles aright and read to you
this strange narrative entrusted to my discretion and, like, stuff:
The Strange Adventure
of Tarzan, The Epsteinian Files,
and The Burn-Bags of Opar
In search of The Lost Epsteinian Files
Tarzan slipped into a city ruinous and far
And in a secret tunnel that ran for miles
Stumbled onto The Burn-Bags of Opar
Queen Kristi of Opar, long in love with Tarzan
Sacrificed to her gods a dog and a goat
Then in an armored golf cart chased him as far as she can
(Okay, then, you
try to rhyme “Tarzan”)
To the edge of the Alligator Alcatraz moat
Tarzan, exhausted, thought he was a doomer
Kristi was sharpening her sacrificial knife
(or loading
her thirty-thirty; the records are unclear)
But she was death-whispered by Laura Loomer
Thus saving the burn-bags and our hero’s life
And The Epsteinian Files? The mystery no longer abodes -
The scripts for Gilligan’s Island, the lost episodes
Wednesday, July 30, 2025
"Just One More Thing" - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“Just One More Thing”
His shabby raincoat
His rumply old suit and tie
His “Just one more thing…”
Tuesday, July 29, 2025
Minefield and Altar - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Minefield and Altar
Approaching the Truth should be simple enough
But you can expect to lose a lot of pals
The maps you were given are unreliable
Because the chain of command keeps changing them
No matter what choices you make in the bush
Someone in authority will tell you you’re wrong
If you show initiative you will be wrong
If you follow orders you will still be wrong
If you survive you will be too late for chow
And the leaders steal your medals anyhow
A Point-and-Won't-Shoot Camera - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Point-and-Won’t-Shoot Camera
The concept of the point-and-shoot camera obtains
But a Me-‘Phone camera doesn’t see it that way
I stopped to watch a bug-grazing bird
Who approached me as if she wanted to visit
I took out my Me-‘Phone for a photograph
And it didn’t recognize my handsome face
And I had to tap a four-digit code
And the bird grew suspicious and flew away
O Egret, in your beautiful brown and white -
I truly understand your need for flight
Monday, July 28, 2025
High-Pressure Dome in a Coffee Cup - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
High-Pressure Dome in a Coffee Cup
Blue light - an illusion of comfort at dawn
The streaky windows frame a winter day
Illusions and delusions lying to us
For this is July, when hopes wither and die
The sun’s tentacles ripple across the fields
One of them slithers to your window and leers
Mocking the fantasies of your air-conditioned sleep
Beckoning you outside: come and be fried
The sun’s hot streakings, mortals seeking, they roam
As summer’s slithering death: a high-pressure dome
Sunday, July 27, 2025
A Three-Character-Group Code for Advancing Civilization
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Three-Character-Group Code for Advancing
Civilization
Learn. To. Dostoyevsky.
Saturday, July 26, 2025
They. Learned. To. Code. - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
They. Learned. To. Code.
14-year-old boy identified as victim in University of New Mexico dorm shooting
I call, therefore, a complete and generous education, that which fits a man to perform, justly, skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war.
-John Milton, “Of Education,” 1644
Learn. To. Code. is the fashionable chant
Staccato’d in every callow response
Make. America. Great. through cliché’ and cant
To force a lath-and-plaster renaissance
The Great Conversation of books and thoughts
The Great Dialectic of civilization
Are now toys, guns, and video games, all for nought
Ferality within a generation
Within a generation, within a blink
They. Learned. To. Code.
They did not learn to think
Friday, July 25, 2025
The Apex Predator - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The
Apex Predator
They…
Have watched me rise from the darkness of war
Dripping with my enemies’ blood
-Beowulf,
trans. Raffel, lines 151-153
The apex predator feeds upon the flesh
Of those who wanted desperately to
live
To hew and chew and gnaw and digest
and mesh
With those who died with no desire
to forgive
The apex predator feeds while
others starve
The sentient flee from him in grievous
fear
But he always wins, his victims then
to carve
In bloody fields and haunted forests
drear
War ends violently in drang und
sturm
And the apex predator is obviously
The
Worm
Wednesday, July 23, 2025
We Ask Everyone to Respect Our Family Privacy at This Time - a poem about the guy who bit the head off the bat
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
We Ask Everyone to Respect Our Family Privacy at This Time
“Our family privacy” – people keep saying that
A friend came over and mowed my rankling lawn
Because finding a lawnmower mechanic these days
Is like searching for a unicorn in a shopping mall
Their family privacy – I’m blessed with friends
But lawnmower mechanics seem to be extinct
The temp today was 98 at noon
Nobody chants “Learn. To. Code.” anymore
Their family privacy – chicken pot pies
Are on sale at Brookshire’s for 88 cents
I’ll mail all those bills this afternoon
That’s a really nice shirt you’re wearing today
Their family privacy – a middle-aged woman
Sheds tears upon an altar of VHS tapes
In privacy
Tuesday, July 22, 2025
A 5-7-5 About Listening to Your Body - yes, a 5-7-5 unworthy of a senryu
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A 5-7-5 About Listening to Your Body
I listen to my body
All day, all night (Mary Ann)
If I eat too much
Piso Mojado Sounds Somewhat Vulgar - rhyming doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Piso Mojado Sounds Somewhat Vulgar
Piso mojado en Tejas y Colorado
Does not exactly trip from my English tongue
Cuidado that floor in El Dorado
For piso sounds slippily close to dung!
Monday, July 21, 2025
Loose Vowels - not really a poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Loose Vowels
A, E, I, O, U, and sometimes
Y – why?
(Asking for a dipthong)
The New Pastor Threatens the Congregation with Guitars - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The New Pastor Threatens the Congregation with Guitars
Our new pastor has visions, dreams beyond the stars
At Mass last week he informally presented
This suggestion: a choir. And guitars
But peace will still obtain, tho’ that twanging jars -
Guitars in church are why ear plugs were invented
Sunday, July 20, 2025
Betrayed With a Kiss-Cam - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Betrayed With a Kiss-Cam
And the sunlight clasps
the earth
And the moonbeams kiss
the sea:
What is all this sweet
work worth
If thou kiss not me?
-Shelly, “Love’s Philosophy”
A kiss is just a kiss, as
Dooley Wilson sang
In a Casablanca that never
was
A kiss to give one’s life a
bit of tang
A kiss to set a lonely heart
abuzz
But great unwashed mobs stacked
in their masses
Close-looped in a failed sub-culture
of dust
Metal in their noses and tattoos
on their asses
Can never find truth without
a trace of trust
For love can never depend
upon
The vigilante cruelty of a
jumbo-tron
Tech company Astronomer launches investigation into
'kiss cam' moment at Coldplay concert - ABC News
The Crown of Rachel - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The Crown of Rachel
From an idea inspired by Nat Lipstadt while we discussing something else
A dream about our teacher Akiva of Yavna
When the Romans took a respite from murdering us:
In our youth we approached a little house
Though we were tired from following the goats all day
Akiva was tired from tending his beans
And from Jacob-wrestling with great ideas
But he smiled and asked what he could do
Do for us little children bubbling with questions
“I am inventing the synagogue,” he might have said
“What is a synagogue? A new kind of Temple?”
“It is a machine for learning, a temple of the mind
A school, an altar upon we sacrifice our ignorance”
“But the Romans won’t let us sacrifice anything”
“Sometimes” said Akiva wryly, “they sacrifice us
But in the synagogue we will have a little light
Light and Torah and learning, always learning”
“We want to learn.”
“Oh? And what do you want to learn?” he asked of us
“We want to learn.”
He smiled and sat us at a table under his vines
“I learned to read when I was forty,” he said
As he took out a tablet and a stylus
One of us said, “I can’t imagine being that old!”
Our teacher smiled, smoothed the day from the wax
And instructed us to attend to the Word
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”
That is what he said, not what he wrote in the wax
Akiva prayed, he prayed for us, and wrote
And in the wax the letters formed as fire
As gold and fire:
“Bereshit Bara Elohim…”
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