Donald J. Trump's Draft Notice - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Donald J. Trump’s Draft Notice

A Citizen of the United States

To: Donald J. Trump

Greeting:

You are reluctant to go to the wars
And I do understand – I went to one
And you missed out. I was sorry to hear
Of your physical disabilities

You are reluctant to go to the wars
And I do understand – but why are you
Eager to send the daughters and sons
Of other fathers off to die for - what?

You are reluctant to go to the wars
And I do understand -

Now get off your *** and go see those kids

And bring them home

The Pocket Knife of Damocles - doggerel

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall45184@aol.com

The Pocket Knife of Damocles

Every morning good Damocles wakes up
And after breakfast from a drive-through bag
Salutes the time-clock with a merry ding
From a little card that records his time

He drives his forklift or his cubby-desk
And sorts each pallet or computer code
Into their places in the secular scheme
The minor chain of being more-or-less

Until a meeting when, and with great sorrow,
A Suit tells all, “we’re shutting down tomorrow.
Oh, the company still exists (and what could be finer?),
But we’re sending all your jobs away to China.”

Community PEAVEY Wide PEAVEY Thanksgiving PEAVEY Service - a poem with booms and bangs

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Community PEAVEY Wide PEAVEY

Thanksgiving PEAVEY Service

Prelude PEAVEY you give PEAVEY the splendor
Of the PEAVEY CAN I HAVE AN ‘AMEN’!?
How great is our PEAVEY WOOOOOO! The lion and
The PEAVEY name above all YEAH!!!!!

Age to PEAVEY chorus PEAVEY bridge PEAVEY
You are PEAVEY touching my PEAVEY these
Bones will PEAVEY shout your PEAVEY OH YEAH!!!!
We pour out our PEAVEY WOOOOO!!!!! YEAHHHH!!! An’ Lord

We just wanna PEAVEY you YEAH! And WOOOOO!!!
REPEAT 4X PEAVEY YEAH! WOOOOO!!!! We are
God’s PEAVEY AMEN!!!! CAN I HEAR AN ‘AMEN!?’
Food drive PEAVEY outreach ministries PEAVEY

Love offering PEAVEY I worship PEAVEY
Outreach WOOOOO! And Lord we just offer up our
PEAVEY…!!!!!


(You can always walk away – and I did)

Premediated Amnesia - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Premeditated Amnesia 1

For nothing here is old, save for deep layers
Of moss and muck and mouldering remains
Civilisations lit by visions and fire
Now lost beneath a Wal-Mart Parking lot

Incuriously the tentacles of Now
Slither more deeply into the pale past
And churn up yet another housing estate
At the corner of Kingsford Lane and Heather Way

Near the Motorcycle Church, for piston prayers:
For nothing here is old, save for deep layers



1 "The U.S. is probably the contemporary world’s purest example of a society which is perpetually trying to abolish history, to avoid thinking in historical terms, to associate dynamism with premeditated amnesia.” -Alexander Woodside quoted by Susan Sontag:

https://bostonreview.net/susan-sontag-interview-geoffrey-movius?utm_source=Boston+Review+Email+Subscribers&utm_campaign=b581739691-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2018_08_17_04_17_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_2cb428c5ad-b581739691-41080789

Don't You Dare Judge Me While I'm Judging You! - a poem (of sorts)

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Don’t You Dare Judge Me While I’m Judging You!

Don’t you judge me while I am judging you
For judging me when I was judging you
For judging me since I was judging you
For judging me ‘cause I was judging you

Don’t interrupt while I am interrupting you
For interrupting when I was interrupting
For interrupting since I was interrupting
For interrupting ‘cause I was interrupting

What’s that? You say you didn’t hear or see?
How dare you not focus your life on me!?

Three Chords and a Meth Lab - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Three Chords and a Meth Lab

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me”
Embroidered on the back of his letterman jacket
Hanging from the kitchen chair where he sits
Practicing chords while the meth cooks to crank

In the trailer back of his momma’s house
Where she lets him live while he looks for work
They didn’t treat him right at the truck stop
His uncle might get him on at the mill

A crankster wankster twanging out his art
Unless the Cossaks find out about…


                                                                   “Who’s there…?”

Self-Government is not a Video Game - column

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Self-Government is not a Video Game

In a poorly-written article featuring cluttered sentence structure, botched parallelisms, unnecessary and inappropriately-placed adverbs, and inadequately sourced quotations, a scrivener alleges that a physical education teacher in Florida was punished for refusing to watch a girl change clothes in the boys’ locker room.

The article appears in numerous InterGossip outlets but given that there appears to be only one source recycled over and over and that the InterGossip is unreliable we must first consider the possibility that the article might not be true, or if true that the narrative is not accurate – remember the story about the purportedly homeless man who was said to have given a stalled driver his last twenty dollars so that she could drive safely home. Yes, cue the tears and the $400,000 dollars given through a Go Loot Me site on the InterGossip. In the end, the narrative was demonstrated to be a money-grubbing hoax and the perps’ next teary-eyed story will be to a judge.

But let us say, for the sake of an argument, that the narrative, one of those tiresome LGQBT-and-a-buzzard-in-a-peach-tree things, is in substance correct. If – IF - a school board in Florida hired an LTBGQ-something liaison (whatever that is), and if – IF – the school board gave the liaison-person authority over restrooms, locker rooms, and the duties of teachers, then who should the people be mad at?

Yes, I know that should read “with whom should the people be angry,” but let it stand.

If – IF – these inappropriate things happened, the people of that school can only be mad at / angry with themselves, for the people are the school.

Governance of a public school district is both democratic-with-a-small-d and republican-with-a-small-r – that is, through open elections (that’s the democratic-with-a-small-d part) the people wisely and prayerfully choose the trustees of their local school board. The elected school board then controls (that’s the republican-with-a-small-r-part) the school district’s properties, sets policies, and hires and fires all of the people’s servants, from the superintendent to the nice folks who tidy up late into the night. Depending on state and local laws, the school board also establishes the assessment and collection of taxes, lots of taxes, on private property.

And yet Americans tend not to bother with the most important elections of all, those for their local school board.

Some of those who won’t vote for their trustees will, if the gossip is salacious enough, herd up and appear at a school board meeting with signs and petitions and protestations of outrage at the purported enormities of a board they didn’t bother to elect.

Yelling at the school board is not democracy; voting is. Twootering on the InterGossip is not democracy; voting is.

We don’t know what happened at a school in Florida, but we can know what decisions our own trustees make by showing up at our school board meetings or by reading about them in the local newspaper.

Democracy is not a spectator sport, nor is it a video game; it is the exercise of the rights of a free people by free people voting.

Don’t complain; vote.

-30-

Outside McDonald's: Sweeper, Man Your Broom - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Outside McDonald’s: Sweeper, Man Your Broom

And so he sweeps, against the blustery winds
That blow his efforts back into the cold
Cigarette ends and plastic straws adrift
Across the parking lot and far away

His hoody hides his face against the world
And shabby gloves protect his trembling hands
His body bends against November’s winds
Before the great American fast-food dream

We sweep inside, for coffee, breakfast, and warmth
The sweeper sweeps, against the blustery winds

Simon and Schuster and Their Explosive Brit - a frivolity featuring awkward rhymes

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Simon & Schuster and Their Explosive Brit

“Catherine Coulter and J.T. Ellison’s explosive Brit

in the FBI thriller The Sixth Day is now in paperback!”

One wouldn’t like to see an exploding Brit
Who would ruin one’s tweed country suit
Splattering English gore all over it –
That exploding galloping major brute!

But

Before the man went CRACK!
How did they ever fit
That pyrotechnic Brit
into a paperback?

A Trochee Christmas and its Several Anapests - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

A Trochee Christmas and its Several Interchangeable Anapests

 

Brought to You in some Desperation

By your Local Chamber of Commerce

(Second Trailer Past the Stoplight)

Christmas in the Park
Christmas on the Main
Christmas on the Lake
Christmas on the Strand
Christmas on the Square
Christmas on the Farm
Christmas on the Beach
Christmas on the Mall
Christmas in the Mall
Christmas on the Block
Christmas on the Coast
Christmas on the Gulf
Christmas on the Hill
Christmas in the Keys
Christmas on the Quay
Christmas on the Quad
Christmas on the Range
Christmas on the Ranch
Christmas in the Vale
And this year, Christmas at the 'Gras!

But no Christmas without anapests, ‘kay?

Gravitas in the White House Press Briefing Room - doggerel

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Gravitas in the White House Press Briefing Room

The wind that blows is all that anyone knows

-Thoreau

“She hit me!” “She did not!” “He hit her first!”
“You can ask anyone – I hit the mike!”
“No, no, she hit me!” “No, he is the worst!”
“No, not at all, that’s not what it was like!”

“The president’s a meany!” “The press is rude!”
“This is unprecedented!” “You’re a fake!”
“Take away his pass; I’m not in the mood!”
“It’s unacceptable!” “Well, you’re a snake!”

As the nation crumbles in violence and smoke
The press and president are one bad joke

Under the Shadow-Tree - a poem on Remembrance Day

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Under the Shadow-Tree

For David Jones, 1895-1974

Poet, Artist

Pte., Royal Welch Fusiliers

One can go back to one's own home…

and everything is so changed that one is a stranger.

― Graham Greene, The Ministry of Fear

I went away, a young and foolish lad
Imagining I would go home someday
Made manly in the war, someone to respect
Admired by all in the old, familiar scenes

There was only exile. Echoes and screams
Fumbling through the flashbacks for charger clips
And stepping carefully lest the lawn explode
In dreams lit only by parachute flares

While waiting for the order for volley fire
And is the safety on? Or am I off?

Ecclesiastical Frequent Flyer Miles - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Ecclesiastical Frequent Flyer Miles

1.

(Our bishops in synod in Rome respond to a crisis)

Ombudsman, ombudsperson, om, om, om
As pressing as that issue is enhanced
Mediation roles for the whistleblowers
Accountable to the norms of canon law

Refashion the role of a promoter
Of justice creating a climate of
Having legal tools available for a
Strategic partnership the bottom line

And somewhere yet again a line or two
About the ‘way cool spirit of Vatican II

2.

(A populist priest posts about his of-the-people-ness

as he stands up to rascally bishops)

There wasn’t Fox News in the first-class lounge
But only CNN my plane was late
The merlot in first class was mediocre
And here’s a picture of my first-class lunch

Oh, such a long flight all the way to Rome
Where I’m fighting for you and for the Faith
In the cutest little sidewalk cafes’
And here’s a picture of my cappuccino

Travelling for your prayers is such a slog
So send me money to support my ‘blog

3.

(In a poor parish scheduled by the bishop for closure)

Father is on perpetual holiday
The abandoned faithful are left to say
Introibo ad altare Dei
Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam

And what is an ombudsperson?

The Geriatric Cosmic Casino Bus in a McDonald's Parking Lot - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

The Geriatric Cosmic Casino Bus in a McDonald’s Parking Lot

A space casino painted on its sides
Its airbrakes hissing and spitting against the wheels
The charter bus clanks to a potty stop
Its hatches open to discharge aliens

Optimistically rattling their walkers
And dragging their oxygen machines along
Spongy shoes challenged by the parking lot
Knobby white knees all rattling through the dawn

The moustache in his cool gas-station shades
Admires himself in his big West Coast mirror



(Casino gambling is illegal in Texas, thus the fleets of charter busses zooming to the Louisiana border.)

The Great American Dream Ballot - column

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Great American Dream Ballot

After our nation’s recent fratricidal dust-up, and in anticipation of the next, I propose that we consider a return to paper ballots for all elections.

Mr. Mueller’s investigation of purported hanky-panky-Pokemon™® between Mr. Trump and the pesky Russians has being going on for two years now. While Thanksgiving dinner with that uncle who insists on sharing over the turkey all the details of his latest gastrointestinal adventures might seem longer than two years, it only seems that way.

That Vladimir Putin was sitting at his glorious desk in the Moscow Kremlin and manipulating your auntie’s vote via his Official Danger Man®™ Snoopocontrolloscope (the collectible model comes with a certificate of authenticity signed by the late Patrick McGoohan) seems unlikely, but the allegations of electronic tonkering have cost all of us millions of dollars in order to pay the alligator-shoe-boys to share tittle-tattle.

Further, the reports of hardware failures, computer failures, printout failures, power failures, and in at least one Houston location a shortage of extension cords – yes, extension cords – delayed last week’s voting in many locations.

How much do the various brands and models of gollygeewhizpinball voting machines cost us? How reliable are they? How much do the various brands and models of tabulating machines, printers, scanners cost us? How much do the legions of IT functionaries, electricians, operating crews, programmers, software developers, software sales people, and the bidding and acquisition processes cost us?

And, yeah, the extension cords – the glories of our mighty Republic had to be put on hold while someone found a hardware store still open late at night.

And, in the end, how many Americans trust a jumped-up video game to have been programmed honestly and to record accurately even one vote?

The honest, effective, rational, and cost-saving approach to fair elections is to vote on paper ballots, and then for each ballot in its turn counted, checked, and verified by small committees of thoughtful people who don’t quite trust each other. If a ballot is approved by all it is counted; if there are disagreements then the ballot is carried by a messenger to another room where another small committee of thoughtful people who don’t quite trust each other resolve the problem.

Make the ballots big. Make them clear. Make the choices obvious through plain language free of weak verbs, the passive voice, and euphemisms.

The useless pachinko voting machines could be broken up for scrap metal or sunk along the coast as artificial reefs for the little fishes.

Paper ballots – good for America, good for the little fishes, bad for the Chinese manufacturers of videogaming toys, and really bad for the comrades in Broward County, Florida.

-30-

Why Did He Shoot People He Did Not Know? - poem (speculation only)

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Why Did He Shoot People He Did Not Know?

Why did he shoot people he did not know?
Maybe he did not know what else to do

He was told all his life he could do anything
But he couldn’t
He was told all his life how special he was
But he wasn’t

He was told all his life to follow his dreams
But what are dreams?
And the success and the money would follow
But they didn’t

He was told all his life to be himself
But what was he?
He was given noises all his life, but when
The silence fell…

He had no poetry, no prayer, no art
He looked inside himself, and nothing was there

Why did he shoot people he did not know?
Maybe he did not know what else to do

Simon and Schuster and the Construction Trades - doggerel

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Simon and Schuster and the Construction Trades

“…you’ll love this riveting memoir.”

One longs to see a memoir riveting,
Setting in place with tongs the hot red steel,
Bucking the tail, and quickly pivoting
For another – a worker’s life is real

Election Day: Executive Inaction with Moderate Prejudice in Fits of Absent-Mindedness - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Election Day:

Executive Inaction with Moderate Prejudice

in Fits of Absent-Mindedness

The old order changeth, yielding place to new

-Tennyson, Idylls of the King

Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there

If you vote they give you a sticker

The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees

If you vote they give you a sticker

The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.

If you vote they give you a sticker

Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps

If you vote they give you a sticker

Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The meth lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math

If you vote they give you a sticker

An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather

If you vote they give you a sticker

And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence

If you vote they give you a sticker

While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world

If you vote they give you a sticker

And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists

(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)

“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)

But if you vote they give you a sticker

Guy Fawkes Forgot to Set His Smart Phone on Silent - not nearly a poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Guy Fawkes Forgot to Set His Smart Phone on Silent

Remember, remember the Fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason, and plot!
I see no reason
Why gunpowder treason…
Wait – dude, is there an app for that?

Western Civilization and Radio Static - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Western Civilization and Radio Static

…These men are worth your tears:

You are not worth their merriment.

-Wilfred Owen, “Apologia Pro Poemate Meo”

When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean? Paradise Lost? Probably not
Nor Saint Paul speaking on the Field of Mars

The Kalevala, Hagia Sophia
With its pendentives lifting up our prayers
Horatius fighting to defend his bridge
And Wilfred Owen dying bravely on his

Lord Tennyson and Idylls of the King
Chapultepec, Henry V, Becket
The paratroops at Arnhem, Saint Thomas More,
His King’s loyal servant, but God’s first

The Stray Dog poets of Saint Petersburg
The brave last stand of Roland at Roncesvalles
Lewis and Tolkien and glasses of beer
Montcalm and Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham

Hildegard von Bingen, Siegfried and the Rhine
Magna Carta, HMS Hood, the Thames
The Grove of Daphne, “The Old Rugged Cross”
Beatrix Potter and her little pet rabbit

El Cid, Anne Frank, John Keats, Saint Benedict
“I Have a Dream,” Dostoyevsky, and Greene
Viktor Frankl, Dag Hammarkskjold, and Proust
Good Chaucer’s naughty pilgrims telling tales

The Gettysburg Address, Willie and Joe
Stern Saint Augustine of North Africa
Wodehouse writing a jolly bit of fun
Saint Corbinian and Bavaria

The ancient glories of Byzantium
Pius XII contra the bombs and lies
The 602nd TD Battalion
Saint Joan, the Prado, and Robert Frost

And far, far more.

When that loudmouth on the wireless machine
Alludes to Western Civilization
What does he mean?



Of your mercy please pray for the repose of the soul of Wilfred Owen who was killed in action on 4 November 1918, one week before the Armistice.