No Students Were Ever in Danger at Any Time - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

No Students Were Ever in Danger at Any Time

This letter, is to inform you, about a
bomb threat
that we received this, morning. Name of a Name
Unified Consolidated ISD,
a State-Recognized School of Somethingness,
Where Kids Come First under the theme of
All The Kids All The Curriculum All The Time
is committed, to the safety and education
of all our students and We Are Number One,
Go #Thundercatbears!, ‘Cause We are #All-Hashtagged
in Unity and Oneness. We also, want
to clearly communicate with split infinitives
And crazy commas all over the place
to parents about safety issues when they
get found out arise.

This morning, a phone call, was received,
by the receptionist at

The-Latest-Name-Held-in-Place-with-Velcro-Until-the-Next-Name-Change
Elementary School and Essential Spirit
Dreams New Dawn Progress Learning and
Technology Center of the Future

stating a

bomb

was present, on the campus.
After conferring with the Threat Assessment Team,
The Standard Response Protocol team,
the Chinkypin-Lizard Lick Police Department parked in the handicapped spaces at Tia Jolene’s Goremay Eats ‘n’ Bokays out next to the Interstate,
the cheerleader sponsors,
Facebook,
Twitter,
our attorneys,
and Superintendent Dr. Hamestus Goodoleboy “Spike” Ponsonby III,
the students were rapidly, and efficiently evacuated
to a safe area up in the football bleachers
where they would be more obvious targets
and the school was professionally and thoroughly
swept for anything suspicious and untoward.
During this time,

when no students were in danger,

another call was received stating that gunshots
were fired in the school. There were no gunshots,
fired in the school and

no children were in danger at any time.

Currently, we’re are is allowing students,

who were never in any danger,

to return to school as usual

where there was never any danger at any time.

We will have extra counselors and therapists available
if students or parents needs supports are
counsolining in spelling ‘n’ sentence structure.

The students were never in any danger at any time.

All threats to our school where

their was never any danger

and students who were never in any danger

will be taken seriously immediately
and thoroughly and investigated
thoroughly and fully except for that call
last week that we managed to keep covered up.
We wanted to inform you of the correct facts
because our correct facts are the only facts
so you can discuss them with your child/ren
Of any race, sex, color, creed, religion,
or gender identification or not
and emphasize the seriousness of our facts,
which are the only facts. If you discover
Any facts untoward or out of place please contact us
At the district office at
xxx xxx xxxx ext xxx
or the Chinkypin - Lizard Lick Police Department
immediately and thoroughly.

No children were in, danger at any time.

I Miss my Northern Exposure Tee Shirt - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

I Miss my Northern Exposure Tee Shirt

We could drive into town for a beer at The Brick
Listening to the radio as Chris-in-the-Morning
Reads a chapter from Doctor Zhivago
Connects Yuri with Uncle Roy Bauer

We could drive into town for gas at Ruth-Anne’s
Marilyn and Ed will talk about movies; Maggie and Joel
Will argue some more on the sidewalk outside
While Maurice preens before his reflection in the glass

And then to The Brick: Shelley behind the bar
Holling and Dave-the-Cook wrestling the grease trap -
I think I left my Northern Exposure tee shirt
In the laundromat in Cicely, Alaska

We could drive into town and look for it

Polysyllable va Exclamation Marks and Bellowing All-Caps and Ball-Cap - ripped (only metaphorically) from the InterGossip

Lawrence Hall, HSG, LT, P,M & S
mhall46184@aol.com

Polysyllables

vs

Exclamation Marks and Bellowing All-Caps and Ball-Caps

Genderqueer contesting histories climate apocalypse social activist make a tax-deductible donation today starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity Rawlsian diagnosis basic earth cooperative existential Marxism for our times starting at the advocate level inextricably to reexamine his legacy linked black gender-ambiguous social and political struggles behavioral economics Afro-futurist vision of decolonize this text white boy spear-heading queerphobic witch-hunt singular surrealities queer Shabbat dinners dialogue this trope diversity

BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BOOM! THUD! SNAP! BURN! FACT! S.T.E.M.! CRUSH! SNORT! SCHOOLED! WHAM! OWNED! BAM! BOOM! THUD!

Enlighten Me, O Brave Little Princeling - a rebuke to Young Mr. Trump

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Enlighten Me, O Brave Little Princeling

“...you don’t have to be indoctrinated by these loser teachers

that are trying to sell you on socialism from birth.”

- Donald Trump, Junior

Have at it, little prince - I was called worse
When I came home from Viet-Nam; I’m sure
Your father could tell you about the pain

And now

A usage lesson follows my poor verse:


The relative pronoun following “teachers” should be “who,” not “that.”




I am at your service, your highness.

Writing in Our Stray Dog Cafes' - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Writing in Our Stray Dog Cafes

The

Authorities will shut them down again
Each in its turn: The Brick, the Stray Dog Cafe,
Foxy John’s (Beer Wine Good Food Low Prices),
Cafe’ Zanzibar, Joe’s Eats down by the piers

And Denny’s past, before the blood-crazed purge
Exiled us scribbling hippies to the street
To search again and build again a space
Where verbs and nouns and smoke are flung about

Because we are colonialists of the heart
Who build up empires of beauty and truth



http://www.visit-petersburg.ru/en/restaurant/196278/

When my Father was a Police Officer in Marseilles - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

When my Father was a Police Officer in Marseilles

In 1945 The War was over
The survivors were trying to make life work
And occupation forces here and there were set
To guard the roads, the rails, the city streets

And so it was that Master Sergeant Hall -
Normandy, the Moselle, Belgium and the Bulge,
Munich, Dachau, Thuringen, and Zwickau -
Was sent to old Marseilles to be a cop

A watch commander, assigning patrols
And sending men to their various posts
Even to directing traffic in the streets
There was a complaint from a traffic hub:

The American soldier in charge there -
Sometimes he chose to block all traffic there
And swagger about and cuss ‘em out
Then laugh, and all at once turn ‘em loose again

And then one day there came an alarm:
Machine guns shooting at that intersection
A soldier from the colonies gone wild
And murdering people in the street

They sped to the scene, the scene of horror
And helped - but they could not find their soldier
Posted there at the beginning of the watch
Was he among the dead? The wounded? Where?

And they didn’t know until the end of the day
After the soldier returned, alive and well:
“When the shooting started, I ran down the street,
Found another spot, and directed traffic there.”




Note: As remembered, which makes this a secondary source, and adapted loosely to iambs.  The quote from the soldier on traffic control, whose name I don't remember, was something like, "Well, Sergeant, when all that shooting started I ran like H*** down the street a few blocks, found me another intersection, and started directing traffic there."

I do not know if this soldier was the one whom on another occasion my father found blocking all the traffic at an intersection (I infer that it was a hub and possibly a traffic roundabout, with five or more streets meeting), striding around cussing everyone, then standing off out of the way and blowing his whistle for ALL the traffic to resume, and laughing at the chaos.

Squeaking Truth to Glower - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Squeaking Truth to Glower

Her stern eyes gaze a four years’ distance
But let this fact be duly noted
She claims to be of The Resistance -
But has she ever, ever voted?

Black Rifle I'm a Real Man Testosterone Compensation Fantasy for Studly Studs Who Never Made the First Day of Recruit Training

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Black Rifle I'm a Real Man Testosterone Compensation Fantasy
for Studly Studs Who Never Made the First Day of Recruit Training 

Not worth a d**n
In Viet-Nam -
Fire once and jam

But now

They’ve fixed that mother
It’s like no other -
Go shoot your brother

A Baton, But No Orchestra - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

A Baton, But No Orchestra

Majestic in their yellow-painted shields
Imperious trumping traffic lights command
Through glares of green and red, and garish orange
Obedience in all the traffic below

How sad - there is no traffic to command
Though once there was, before the lordly lights
Were lifted up: a little town was here
With pharmacies, feed stores, hardware, and cafes

And a movin’-picture show. All gone now.
And then the state put up the traffic lights

Be Strong in Your Pixies - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Be Strong in Your Pixies

For a Young Artist, Musician, Scientist, Poet, and Philosopher

Be strong in your Pixies, for some will say
That you are wasting your time on fantasy
When you should be laboring hard all day
As servant to some old master’s machinery

Be strong in your Pixies, yes, even when
You are all grown up, and have a great career
Dream still again each magic forest and glen
And keep your Pixie-knowledge close and clear

Be strong in your Pixies, and sometimes glance
Back to that moonlit realm, where Pixies dance

Singing a Poem into Being - well, a poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Singing a Poem into Being

          The cold told a tale to me
          the rain suggested poems
                    another tale the winds brought
                    the sea’s billows drove;
                    the birds added words
                    the treetops phrases

-The Kalevala, I, “In the Beginning” 1

We’re born to light and water and earth and air
Yet most of my life I cared little for verse,
But somehow words have become wonderful,
Even beloved because poetry -

- Poetry takes the chaos (or apparent chaos?)
Of life, and gently sings it into meaning
Through line, stanza, meter, and metaphor,
Shapes it, loves it, and makes it beautiful.

Poetry is like baptism, perhaps,
Or painting, sculpting, drawing, making music,
Or digging and setting a post-hole just right,
Helping set one’s perceptions of reality just right

And it is beautiful




1 The Kalevala. Elias Lonnrot. Trans. Keith Bosley. An Oxford World’s Classics Paperback. OUP. New York. 1989.

Impaired Walking in the Turning Lane - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Impaired Walking in the Turning Lane

A tall old woman, still vigorous and strong
Striding along in the center lane at dawn
Talking to some people who weren’t there
And they who were not there were talking to her

And the police came; they talked to her too
While gently and politely seating her
In the most comfortable chair they could offer
“Please mind your hands and feet, ma’am,” they said

Upon us all she smiled, a lady that day,
Who commanded those young men to drive her away

Capturing Your Authentic Voice - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Capturing Your Authentic Voice

I tried to capture my authentic voice
My inner voice, my true-something-me-ness
But the little booger is elusive
And free it remains, wild and free, to this night

So I deploy an inauthentic voice
An outer voice, only maybe it’s not;
Perhaps it’s an Hegelian dialectic
A voice cobbled together from castoffs

On a sale-table down at Goodwill, I found
A gently-used voice – so how do I sound?

This Little Town, Where Nothin' Ever Happens - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

This Little Town, Where Nothin’ Ever Happens

So Bubby said that on graduation night
He and Jamby was gonna leave the gym
Toss their rented caps and gowns to some friends
Rev up their Harleys, and leave forever

This little town, where nothin’ ever happens

They had made their plans, you see, real good plans
They’d pack what they needed in their saddle bags
And thunder night and day to Florida
Because there was good jobs waitin’ in Florida

Away from this town, where nothin’ ever happens

They wasn’t gonna stop except for gas
Gas and eats and beer and the American road!

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

They wasn’t gonna really stop until
Their front wheels touched the cold Atlantic

Not like in this town, where nothin’ ever happens

                                                     But they didn’t.

And next year Bubba rolled
His pickup on that curve next to the school

This little town, where nothin’ ever happens

O Kaypro II, Where Have You Gone? - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

O Kaypro II, Where Have You Gone?

Articles on how to write always feature
Pictures of old Underwoods, and maybe
A cup of pencils to the side, and some flowers
In a vase, wilting symbolically

One longs to sees images of an Apple II
Or maybe a TI994A
A battered Radio Shack TRS80
Cursors flickering in defiance

A Magnavox Videowriter, loading slow -
The 80s had their Nobel dreams too, you know

Dear Famous Name Brand Software: - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Dear Famous Name Brand Software:

I regret to inform you that I am terminating
Your employment with my computer.
Several months ago you began failing
In your duties; your performance was poor
And sometimes you left work without notice.
Last week you didn’t show up at all.
You refused to be repaired and you refused
To be re-installed, and so I am letting you go.

This week you have taken to sending me notes
That you are the default program and wish
To resume your duties. I must tell you
That I have hired a Mr. Freeware, who
Shows up every day and does the work well.
Not only does he work, he works for free.
I would not have met him had you not failed,
And so, you see, it’s really your own fault.

You need not ask for a reference.

Sincerely,

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Our Catholic Soup Kitchen - poem (of sorts) (With an Explanatory Note)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Our Catholic Soup Kitchen

a HOME credible THE BISHOP accusation ADMINISTRATION is PARISHES one MINISTRIES that, SCHOOLS after RESOURCES review SAFE ENVIRONMENT of EMPLOYEES reasonably CAREERS available, CONTACT US relevant MAKE A GIFT information BISHOP’S FAITH APPEAL in LOVE AND JUSTICE consultation AFRICAN AMERICAN MINISTRY with CATHOLIC CHARITIES the PLANNED GIVING Diocesan CHANCELLOR Review OFFICE OF CONSTRUCTION Board HISPANIC MINISTRY or CAMPUS MINISTRY other CRIMINAL JUSTICE MINISTRY professionals, STEWARDSHIP AND COMMUNICATIONS there YOUTH MINISTRY is FINANCIAL SERVICES reason MODERATOR OF THE CURIA to MAKE A GIFT TO THE CAPITAL CAMPAIGN believe SOCIAL MEDIA POLICY is FAMILY LIFE MINISTRY true VOCATIONS

The soup today is not what it could be;
We’d better search out the old recipe



An Explanatory Note:

The poem as written fails, which is my fault (perhaps I have lapsed into fuzziness from reading too much Leonard Cohen), so here is a bit of exposition:

The words in small print are a quote from the Bishops of Texas (long may they wave), generated by some in-house scrivener, about what constitutes a "credible accusation." "Credible accusation" is not a title in civil, criminal, or canon law, and it appears to be some sort of Article 58 (cf. Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago), a means whereby anyone is guilty because he has been accused. It stinks.

Also stinky is the behavior of some few priests and religious.

Anyway, I pulled the quote from a diocesan web site, and scattered among it in LARGE TYPE categories from that site. I stirred 'em all up in a soup because the matter of paedophilia and the bishops' responses seem to be a soup, making it difficult for a "good simpleton" (cf A Canticle for Leibowitz) like me to understand

May God have mercy on us all.

Super-Servile Sunday - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Super-Servile Sunday

O sink not down in that corrosive couch,
Docile before the Orwellian screen
That regulates the lives of the servile,
Dictating dress and drink, demeanor, dreams

Declare your independence from the sludge
Of vague obedientiaries who drowse
Away their empty lives in submission
To harsh, diagonal inches of rule

Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped,
While costumed in their masters’ liveries,
And feeling little while thinking even less,
The very model of the State’s non-men

Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded in cosmic cattle chutes,
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness

But you, O you, be not of them, but be
A wanderer in the moonlight, one known
To God, there in His holy solitude

Little Schlomo and His Life Jacket - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Little Schlomo and His Life Jacket

No one ever figured out how Schlomo
Got off the ship with his life jacket

But there he was on the pier among the crowd
Sitting sadly on his little brown suitcase

And wearing a life jacket from the ship
With "Orinoco" stenciled across it

A sailor in a white uniform wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off

A policeman in a blue uniform wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off

Schlomo's father told him he wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off

And on the bus ride through the city
Schlomo would not let go of it

And for weeks Schlomo wore his life jacket

In the park
In the dark

In his schule
In his school

Until one day in the park on the little river's bank
He took it off
He threw it in
It promptly sank

Then said to himself, our little Schlomo,
"I knew some how - it was time to let go."



Note: I disapprove of exposition, but I will violate my own rule in the matter: 1. I am not Jewish. 2. I have not recently thought about the tragedies of the refugee ships in the 1930s. 3. Little Schlomo, with his paperboy's cap, his dark coat, his shorts, his scuffed shoes, and his lifejacket appeared in a dream last night and I don't know why, but here he is. I hope he will return.

A Famous Cleaning Lady Will Retire at the End of the Month - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Breaking News:

A Famous Cleaning Lady Will Retire at the End of the Month

I hope I have been an inspiration
To the masses, to the humble people
Who go each day from their humble condos
To their humble jobs on the ski slopes of America

The humble artisans who humbly toil
On the balance beams and the practice fields
The humble laborers in the swimming pools
Who sacrifice so much for the rest of us

The humble commons who want my autograph
And little girls who want to be like me, me, me