Saturday, January 25, 2020
Searching the Woods for an Old Cemetery - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The trail to the cemetery is mostly sand
Layered with leaves, debris, and memories
That fell upon the land, and were absorbed
Into the forest’s ancient unities
If a geologic catastrophe
Immortalizes the marks of our canes 1
In sedimentary rock, the future might wonder
What strange tripeds lived in the distant past
When a couple of ancients, you and I
Along this trail roamed under a winter sky
1 But surely not the Mark of Cain?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Searching the Woods for an Old Cemetery
For William Tod Mixson
The trail to the cemetery is mostly sand
Layered with leaves, debris, and memories
That fell upon the land, and were absorbed
Into the forest’s ancient unities
If a geologic catastrophe
Immortalizes the marks of our canes 1
In sedimentary rock, the future might wonder
What strange tripeds lived in the distant past
When a couple of ancients, you and I
Along this trail roamed under a winter sky
1 But surely not the Mark of Cain?
Friday, January 24, 2020
Mr. Peanut and the Doomsday Clock - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Doomsday Clock (shudder) is menacing us again, much like the monsters under Calvin’s bed in the much-missed Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip.
Children were first threatened with clockworkery around seventy years ago – if you don’t eat all your oatmeal the Doomsday Clock will get you.
Or something like that.
The American people were told that there was a metaphorical doomsday clock and that the hands were set at ten minutes until nuclear destruction and would tick-tock to our fiery end if we did not buy bonds and think pure thoughts.
As the decades have passed, the Doomsday Clock has been dusted off, oiled, and brought out like a fiery Moloch for every crisis that must not be wasted: Communism, the Russians, the Chinese, the military-industrial complex, pollution, global cooling, global warming, A.I.D.S., the Democrats, the Republicans, the Russians again, the Chinese again, Italians, Ukrainians, opioids (but pass me a legal joint, bro), robotics, autonomous cars – we’re ticking doomed, I tell you, dooooooooooooomed!
And, hey, maybe this time it’s true.
After all, Mr. Peanut has been disappeared by the Planters-Nabisco-Kraft-Heinz Continuum and their special operations squad of ticking vegan albino ninja monks.
Planters Peanuts was an American company was created by two Italian immigrants – hey, and you know what those Italians are like, and probably spying for Mussolini – and their mascot was Mr. Peanut Man, a dapper nut-about-town with a top hat, monocle, and cane. He cleverly dropped his Italian accent and became a symbol of all that is great in godly American legumes.
The Planters company, now absorbed by Nabisco-Kraft-Heinz, still makes all sorts of great foods and treats from the humble, nutritious, healthy peanut in the U.S.A., Canada, and the United Kingdom. This suggests the continuation of a nefarious Italian plot to take over the English-speaking world.
Why was Mr. Peanut offed in a purported car accident? Perhaps he knew too much. His death was convenient for someone, right? They say he was sipping on a New Coke while driving his Edsel past the exploding Jack-in-the-Box just before running into Elsie the Borden Cow, but that’s what they – They – would have us believe. And why weren’t the security cameras working?
Well, it was a quicker and more merciful end than that of Chuckles the Clown as Peter Peanut on The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
There are adults whose homes whose clocks and watches are all digital and who then complain that their children don’t know to tell time on a round-faced clock. Yeah, and why don’t they know how to plow behind a mule, hah?
How can our young be destroyed properly if they can’t tell time on a round-faced doomsday clock, hah? You answer me that, hah?
First they came for the tick-tock clocks, and then they came for Mr. Peanut.
It’s a pattern, I tell ya. We’re doomed.
Mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Mr. Peanut and the Doomsday Clock
…send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for Mr. Peanut
-as John Donne did not say
The Doomsday Clock (shudder) is menacing us again, much like the monsters under Calvin’s bed in the much-missed Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip.
Children were first threatened with clockworkery around seventy years ago – if you don’t eat all your oatmeal the Doomsday Clock will get you.
Or something like that.
The American people were told that there was a metaphorical doomsday clock and that the hands were set at ten minutes until nuclear destruction and would tick-tock to our fiery end if we did not buy bonds and think pure thoughts.
As the decades have passed, the Doomsday Clock has been dusted off, oiled, and brought out like a fiery Moloch for every crisis that must not be wasted: Communism, the Russians, the Chinese, the military-industrial complex, pollution, global cooling, global warming, A.I.D.S., the Democrats, the Republicans, the Russians again, the Chinese again, Italians, Ukrainians, opioids (but pass me a legal joint, bro), robotics, autonomous cars – we’re ticking doomed, I tell you, dooooooooooooomed!
And, hey, maybe this time it’s true.
After all, Mr. Peanut has been disappeared by the Planters-Nabisco-Kraft-Heinz Continuum and their special operations squad of ticking vegan albino ninja monks.
Planters Peanuts was an American company was created by two Italian immigrants – hey, and you know what those Italians are like, and probably spying for Mussolini – and their mascot was Mr. Peanut Man, a dapper nut-about-town with a top hat, monocle, and cane. He cleverly dropped his Italian accent and became a symbol of all that is great in godly American legumes.
The Planters company, now absorbed by Nabisco-Kraft-Heinz, still makes all sorts of great foods and treats from the humble, nutritious, healthy peanut in the U.S.A., Canada, and the United Kingdom. This suggests the continuation of a nefarious Italian plot to take over the English-speaking world.
Why was Mr. Peanut offed in a purported car accident? Perhaps he knew too much. His death was convenient for someone, right? They say he was sipping on a New Coke while driving his Edsel past the exploding Jack-in-the-Box just before running into Elsie the Borden Cow, but that’s what they – They – would have us believe. And why weren’t the security cameras working?
Well, it was a quicker and more merciful end than that of Chuckles the Clown as Peter Peanut on The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
There are adults whose homes whose clocks and watches are all digital and who then complain that their children don’t know to tell time on a round-faced clock. Yeah, and why don’t they know how to plow behind a mule, hah?
How can our young be destroyed properly if they can’t tell time on a round-faced doomsday clock, hah? You answer me that, hah?
First they came for the tick-tock clocks, and then they came for Mr. Peanut.
It’s a pattern, I tell ya. We’re doomed.
-30-
Ploughing Across the Gap - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Between old Monterey and Central Park
There must be other lands and other views
And different modes of discourse to be shared
Where surf and subway are not pillars of faith
Surely there are rough poets of the plough
Who speed it through the loam (and spell it “plow”)
Turning over words and ideas and love
And growing truth beyond the furrow’s end
A wheat field or an alligator slough -
Everyone is somewhere – so where are you?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ploughing Across the Gap
Between old Monterey and Central Park
There must be other lands and other views
And different modes of discourse to be shared
Where surf and subway are not pillars of faith
Surely there are rough poets of the plough
Who speed it through the loam (and spell it “plow”)
Turning over words and ideas and love
And growing truth beyond the furrow’s end
A wheat field or an alligator slough -
Everyone is somewhere – so where are you?
Thursday, January 23, 2020
The Green Meadow Through a Doorbell Camera - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Old Man Coyote and his comrades yip
And howl and bark out in the midnight fields
But closer by, images grey and green
Record the doings of the lesser folk:
Billy Possum ambles across the lawn
In hopes of carrot-ends and potato peels
Bobby Raccoon and Peter Cottontail
Each night stop and exchange the latest news
Timmy the Flying Squirrel is seldom seen
Young Flash the Deer on the edge of the screen
In shyness skitters away into the dark
And Bob Cat claims the whole world as his park
At dawn the little folk will slip away
But they’ll return tonight to browse and play
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Green Meadow Through a Doorbell Camera
For Thornton W. Burgess
And all the Little Folk of the Green Meadow
Old Man Coyote and his comrades yip
And howl and bark out in the midnight fields
But closer by, images grey and green
Record the doings of the lesser folk:
Billy Possum ambles across the lawn
In hopes of carrot-ends and potato peels
Bobby Raccoon and Peter Cottontail
Each night stop and exchange the latest news
Timmy the Flying Squirrel is seldom seen
Young Flash the Deer on the edge of the screen
In shyness skitters away into the dark
And Bob Cat claims the whole world as his park
At dawn the little folk will slip away
But they’ll return tonight to browse and play
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
Is He Woke? - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Yeah, every night about nine ****ed o’clock
To get himself ready for the night shift
Busting his knuckles on those worn-out valves
Up on a cracking tower at the refinery
Yeah, he’s woke.
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Is He Woke?
Yeah, every night about nine ****ed o’clock
To get himself ready for the night shift
Busting his knuckles on those worn-out valves
Up on a cracking tower at the refinery
Yeah, he’s woke.
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Re-Imagining the University Yet Again - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Federal financial aid cisgender nouns
Labor market outcomes program-level data
Trans-discipline accountability
Post-colonial tuition and fees
De-masculinize this inclusive space
A different business model admissions pool
Competency-based binary evaluations
(Let no one question the chancellor’s pay and perks)
No
If we want civilization among us
Let’s pour ourselves a drink and argue The Good
NB: I employed “chancellor” as a catch-all for administration and the layers of good ol’ boys / good ol’ girls on boards. A correspondent suggested:
As long as you're questioning the chancellor's pay and perks, please also look into the HEAD football coach's salary, housing allowance, automobile and other perks, AND each of the ever-increasing salaries of those many specialized ASSISTANT coaches ... for offensive coordinator, offensive line, quarterbacks, running backs, defensive coordinator, defensive line, linebackers, defensive backfield, special teams, scouting, ...just to name a few.
I reminded my correspondent of the house warden in Doctor Zhivago who resents the eponymous hero for telling the truth, and says, “Your attitude is noticed, you know!”
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Re-Imagining the University Yet Again
Federal financial aid cisgender nouns
Labor market outcomes program-level data
Trans-discipline accountability
Post-colonial tuition and fees
De-masculinize this inclusive space
A different business model admissions pool
Competency-based binary evaluations
(Let no one question the chancellor’s pay and perks)
No
If we want civilization among us
Let’s pour ourselves a drink and argue The Good
NB: I employed “chancellor” as a catch-all for administration and the layers of good ol’ boys / good ol’ girls on boards. A correspondent suggested:
As long as you're questioning the chancellor's pay and perks, please also look into the HEAD football coach's salary, housing allowance, automobile and other perks, AND each of the ever-increasing salaries of those many specialized ASSISTANT coaches ... for offensive coordinator, offensive line, quarterbacks, running backs, defensive coordinator, defensive line, linebackers, defensive backfield, special teams, scouting, ...just to name a few.
I reminded my correspondent of the house warden in Doctor Zhivago who resents the eponymous hero for telling the truth, and says, “Your attitude is noticed, you know!”
Monday, January 20, 2020
Teenagers in the Book Store - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
There were three, two of them flitting about
The third was sitting cross-legged on the floor
In a sweater and jeans, her shoes kicked off
Quite lost in a slender paperback of verse
The gum-chewer in charge, flying a toy dragon
An obedient girl following him
Approached and announced “We’re going.
“I said we’re going. Hey, I said we’re going - NOW.”
In camouflaged defiance the reader arose
And shelved her book,
and smiled,
and whispered to me
“Thank you”
And I don’t know why
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Teenagers in the Book Store
“Only the solitary seek the truth”
-Boris Pasternak
There were three, two of them flitting about
The third was sitting cross-legged on the floor
In a sweater and jeans, her shoes kicked off
Quite lost in a slender paperback of verse
The gum-chewer in charge, flying a toy dragon
An obedient girl following him
Approached and announced “We’re going.
“I said we’re going. Hey, I said we’re going - NOW.”
In camouflaged defiance the reader arose
And shelved her book,
and smiled,
and whispered to me
“Thank you”
And I don’t know why
Sunday, January 19, 2020
The Question Chernyshevsky and Lenin Asked - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
On Monday there will be marches and rioting
Comrades and Activists and Anti-Thats
Bombs with the right hand, selfies with the left -
(Will anyone stay home and milk the cows?)
The tattoos of the Second Amendmenters
Will bristle at those of the New Red Guard
As trash bins burn in holy sacrifice –
(But who will wash the streets tomorrow dawn?)
They all scream for a Revolution, you’ll note -
(But did any of them ever bother to vote?)
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The
Question Chernyshevsky and Lenin Asked
What is to be done?
Comrades and Activists and Anti-Thats
Bombs with the right hand, selfies with the left -
(Will anyone stay home and milk the cows?)
Will bristle at those of the New Red Guard
As trash bins burn in holy sacrifice –
(But who will wash the streets tomorrow dawn?)
(But did any of them ever bother to vote?)
Saturday, January 18, 2020
Socialist Capitalist Brutalist Health Care - a poem of protest
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Another bill for the CPAP today
This time from a collection agency
For an old machine paid for years ago
By Medicare, private insurance, and me
Contracts, receipts, copies of letters and notes
Are nothing to the computerized continuum
Along which elderly humans are abandoned
To drown in a miasma of incessant demands
Like the DVA they just seem to scoff:
Have the workers pay more and then
die off
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Socialist Capitalist Brutalist Health Care
“Health care was affordable before it became free”
-many attributions
For FamousNameBrand Healthcare, Medicare, and a collection agency
Another bill for the CPAP today
This time from a collection agency
For an old machine paid for years ago
By Medicare, private insurance, and me
Contracts, receipts, copies of letters and notes
Are nothing to the computerized continuum
Along which elderly humans are abandoned
To drown in a miasma of incessant demands
Like the DVA they just seem to scoff:
Have the workers pay more and then
die off
Friday, January 17, 2020
Saint Anthony, Abbot, Had a Rabbit - nonsense
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Saint Anthony, Abbot
Had a rabbit
Who
Chewed his shoe
(This bit of nonsense came to me in the pre-dawn several years ago while noting the date, 17 January, on the nice church calendar the funeral home gave me.)
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Saint Anthony, Abbot, Had a Rabbit
Saint Anthony, Abbot
Had a rabbit
Who
Chewed his shoe
(This bit of nonsense came to me in the pre-dawn several years ago while noting the date, 17 January, on the nice church calendar the funeral home gave me.)
Thursday, January 16, 2020
The House Speaker's Souvenir Pens - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Not that a wise American quite trusts any news report, especially via the InterGossip, but apparently Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi really did hand out as souvenirs the dozens of pens she used with all due solemnity (cough) to sign the articles of impeachment. Even CNN found this somewhat embarrassing (https://edition.cnn.com/politics/live-news/trump-impeachment-live-01-15-2020/index.html).
The pens, stamped on the barrels with “Nancy Pelosi” in gold ink, were said to have been borne into the ceremony on a silver platter, but the photograph on CNN suggests that there were three platters in proletarian stainless steel. Maybe someone found a bargain at Goodwill.
The choice of metals could be a matter of controlling the budget or appealing to The People: one imagines that after the seven impeachment managers danced for the House Speaker she might have cried (but probably didn’t), “Bring me, on a proletarian stainless steel platter, the dignity of the congress!”
It could have been worse; the Speaker might have chosen to reflect the gravitas of a formal accusation of crimes against the nation by handing out balloons, helium-filled balloons at that, so that our conscript fathers and mothers could all talk like Donald Duck.
A few of them talk like Donald Duck anyway.
I believe that district attorneys and grand juries prefer to distribute fun-filled goodie bags for felony indictments.
Anticipate rubber duckies at the next state funeral.
If you look carefully at John Trumbull’s 1817 painting of the Declaration of Independence you can see, behind Hillary Clinton’s foot, the cardboard boxes of souvenir kazoos.
It is curious that in our state and local elections we the people are almost always presented with worthy choices of candidates for office. In local elections we are often presented with an embarrassment of riches, good men and women on both party tickets.
Why, then, do our two dominant parties fail to present Americans with serious candidates, men and women of genuine gravitas, for the highest offices, instead of oddballs of the sort who show up on YouTube and on doorbell cameras?
Bias note: Dear Reader, Y’r ‘Umble and Non-Nobel-Prize Winning Scrivener doesn’t like ANY of the personalities mentioned above, and would rather vote for you.
Mhall46184@aol.com
The House Speaker’s Souvenir Pens
Not that a wise American quite trusts any news report, especially via the InterGossip, but apparently Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi really did hand out as souvenirs the dozens of pens she used with all due solemnity (cough) to sign the articles of impeachment. Even CNN found this somewhat embarrassing (https://edition.cnn.com/politics/live-news/trump-impeachment-live-01-15-2020/index.html).
The pens, stamped on the barrels with “Nancy Pelosi” in gold ink, were said to have been borne into the ceremony on a silver platter, but the photograph on CNN suggests that there were three platters in proletarian stainless steel. Maybe someone found a bargain at Goodwill.
The choice of metals could be a matter of controlling the budget or appealing to The People: one imagines that after the seven impeachment managers danced for the House Speaker she might have cried (but probably didn’t), “Bring me, on a proletarian stainless steel platter, the dignity of the congress!”
It could have been worse; the Speaker might have chosen to reflect the gravitas of a formal accusation of crimes against the nation by handing out balloons, helium-filled balloons at that, so that our conscript fathers and mothers could all talk like Donald Duck.
A few of them talk like Donald Duck anyway.
I believe that district attorneys and grand juries prefer to distribute fun-filled goodie bags for felony indictments.
Anticipate rubber duckies at the next state funeral.
If you look carefully at John Trumbull’s 1817 painting of the Declaration of Independence you can see, behind Hillary Clinton’s foot, the cardboard boxes of souvenir kazoos.
It is curious that in our state and local elections we the people are almost always presented with worthy choices of candidates for office. In local elections we are often presented with an embarrassment of riches, good men and women on both party tickets.
Why, then, do our two dominant parties fail to present Americans with serious candidates, men and women of genuine gravitas, for the highest offices, instead of oddballs of the sort who show up on YouTube and on doorbell cameras?
Bias note: Dear Reader, Y’r ‘Umble and Non-Nobel-Prize Winning Scrivener doesn’t like ANY of the personalities mentioned above, and would rather vote for you.
-30-
The House Speaker's Souvenir pens - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
On a stainless steel tray bring us the prize
The dignity of Congress, like a sightless head
Now as stacks of souvenir pens to be flung
Like elementary-school giveaway treats
And bring us the President’s latest twoots
Festooned with coarse slurs and obscenities
His feral howls to a republic in decay
Amid the plastic pillars of puffery
But let this be the theme of our closing hymn:
We truly have no respect for any of them
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The House Speaker’s Souvenir Pens
On a stainless steel tray bring us the prize
The dignity of Congress, like a sightless head
Now as stacks of souvenir pens to be flung
Like elementary-school giveaway treats
And bring us the President’s latest twoots
Festooned with coarse slurs and obscenities
His feral howls to a republic in decay
Amid the plastic pillars of puffery
But let this be the theme of our closing hymn:
We truly have no respect for any of them
Wednesday, January 15, 2020
"I Went to Vietnam to Understand America's Role..." - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A young writer for (Famous Travel Magazine)
Reports that she journeyed to Viet-Nam
And was blown away by what she learned there
Blown away
Sure
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“I Went to Vietnam to Understand America’s Role in Its History
and Was Blown Away by What I Learned”
A young writer for (Famous Travel Magazine)
Reports that she journeyed to Viet-Nam
And was blown away by what she learned there
Blown away
Sure
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Death and Dentistry - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
How easy it is to cry “Invictus!”
And babble about one’s unconquerable soul
or even
“Rage, rage, against the dying of the light!”
On those days when one hasn’t chipped a tooth
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Death and Dentistry
How easy it is to cry “Invictus!”
And babble about one’s unconquerable soul
or even
“Rage, rage, against the dying of the light!”
On those days when one hasn’t chipped a tooth
Monday, January 13, 2020
Bus Fare for the Common Man - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A set of civvies from the 4.0 Locker Club
Which fool no one; the hair is a sailor’s cut
That book of free verse everyone’s talking about
And a transfer to Mission Beach in hand
We rocket by stops down Lower Broadway
From Horton Square, palm trees and cigarettes
A KOGO radio ad on the back
Salesgirls on, sailors off, YMCA
I’m riding to Mission Beach to read and think –
We could have coffee. And talk. Will I see you there?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Bus Fare for the Uncommon Man
With a transfer to Mission Beach
A set of civvies from the 4.0 Locker Club
Which fool no one; the hair is a sailor’s cut
That book of free verse everyone’s talking about
And a transfer to Mission Beach in hand
We rocket by stops down Lower Broadway
From Horton Square, palm trees and cigarettes
A KOGO radio ad on the back
Salesgirls on, sailors off, YMCA
I’m riding to Mission Beach to read and think –
We could have coffee. And talk. Will I see you there?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
