Saturday, May 16, 2020
The Crucifix on the Wall has no Sount Effects - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A crucifix
A crucifix offers no sound effects
Perhaps a tiny electronic box
Could be hidden within it, programmed to speak
the words of Us – just pull the little string
A crucifix
God nailed to the Cross, then nailed to the wall
“That’s ever so nice; where did you get it?”
Hecho en China by way of Amazon
You can track our Lord’s delivery date
A crucifix
It can’t project the noise, the jeers, the boos -
It doesn’t drip Blood on your Sunday shoes
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Crucifix on the Wall has no Sound Effects
A crucifix
A crucifix offers no sound effects
Perhaps a tiny electronic box
Could be hidden within it, programmed to speak
the words of Us – just pull the little string
A crucifix
God nailed to the Cross, then nailed to the wall
“That’s ever so nice; where did you get it?”
Hecho en China by way of Amazon
You can track our Lord’s delivery date
A crucifix
It can’t project the noise, the jeers, the boos -
It doesn’t drip Blood on your Sunday shoes
Friday, May 15, 2020
An Up-to-Date Darwinian Squeaks, Speaks, Thunders, and Harrumphs - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Well, they were old; they needed to die, okay?
The children are immune, well, mostly immune
We won’t lose many of them, and we’ve got more
Let herd immunity sort them all out
Follow the science
Follow the science - we’ve got this new vaccine
We’ll try it out on the bedridden first
And old malarial pills for the veterans
Take another bullet for your country, guys
Follow the science
As for me
I sold my stocks early at an awesome rate
And now I Zoom™ science from my country estate
Obey The Science
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
An Up-to-Date Darwinian Squeaks, Speaks, Thunders, and Harrumphs
“…we’re going to get science applied to social problems and backed by the whole power of the state…”
-Mark Studdock in C. S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength
Well, they were old; they needed to die, okay?
The children are immune, well, mostly immune
We won’t lose many of them, and we’ve got more
Let herd immunity sort them all out
Follow the science
Follow the science - we’ve got this new vaccine
We’ll try it out on the bedridden first
And old malarial pills for the veterans
Take another bullet for your country, guys
Follow the science
As for me
I sold my stocks early at an awesome rate
And now I Zoom™ science from my country estate
Obey The Science
Thursday, May 14, 2020
In Isolation on Beer Can Road - weekly column
Lawrence (Mack) Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
As Garrison Keillor might have said, before he got all Lefty and petty, it has been a quiet week here along Beer Can Road and County Dump Extension.
The economic situation has been cruel to many businesses, but obviously not to the beer industry, whose cast-off cans sparkle in the spring sunshine up and down the road past my rustic rural retreat. And then there’s that old couch someone dumped weeks ago. I don’t suppose there’s a dead body in it, but I’m not going to look.
The guy speeding in the hot red sedan seems to be trying to make it launch, and that is possible, but without wings and controls the car would land in a tree – or tree in a tree – and that would be an unhappy ending. But maybe all the beer cans would cushion the impact.
This spring’s weather has been unusually pleasant. Soon enough the withering heat and humidity of summer will fall upon us, but for now sitting under an oak tree in the late afternoon with a refreshing beverage and the poems of Robert Frost is a joy.
Joining in the merriment are woodpeckers, cardinals, mourning doves, one tiny Carolina or black-capped chickadee, and a few insolent squirrels. They all gather at the water dish and the feeder to feast on chicken scratch from the feed store. Clouds of humming bees monopolize the water dish but will permit the birds and squirrels to take a sip if they act nicely and behave themselves. These are perfect occasions for reading Robert Frost, and the critters don’t seem to mind either him or me.
The setting sun permits a visual display of the bees as they speed between the water dish and their hives a few hundred yards away. Without those late sunbeams a human could not see them in transit and marvel at their speed and navigation. That they don’t hit each other head-on is a great mystery.
Without bees we would have very little to eat; their transfer of pollens from and to all sorts of trees, crops, grasses, and other plants makes possible the generation of fruits, grains, and vegetables season after season.
Thus, providing water for the little fellows and avoiding dusting the garden against pests until after dark is, as the old farmers always remind us, an essential in life.
As the sun sets the book must be closed and the seat cushions brought inside. After dark the raccoons, flying squirrels, ‘possums, feral cats, and an occasional deer will begin their night patrols in the front yard. Flying squirrels are so tiny that all the security camera catches of them are their bright eyes. If a bit of kitchen scrap has been tossed out then sometimes the Darwinian struggle – well, okay, more of a Darwinian hissy-fit – is played out as ‘possum vs. ‘possum, raccoon vs. racoon, and even raccoon vs. possum. The big raccoon always wins the supper against the ‘possum, but the ‘possum makes a good show of belligerence.
In the mornings there is a scent of skunk lately, but this creature hasn’t yet shown up on the video feed. And I understand; if we smelled like that we wouldn’t want to be out in public either.
Mhall46184@aol.com
In Isolation on Beer Can Road
As Garrison Keillor might have said, before he got all Lefty and petty, it has been a quiet week here along Beer Can Road and County Dump Extension.
The economic situation has been cruel to many businesses, but obviously not to the beer industry, whose cast-off cans sparkle in the spring sunshine up and down the road past my rustic rural retreat. And then there’s that old couch someone dumped weeks ago. I don’t suppose there’s a dead body in it, but I’m not going to look.
The guy speeding in the hot red sedan seems to be trying to make it launch, and that is possible, but without wings and controls the car would land in a tree – or tree in a tree – and that would be an unhappy ending. But maybe all the beer cans would cushion the impact.
This spring’s weather has been unusually pleasant. Soon enough the withering heat and humidity of summer will fall upon us, but for now sitting under an oak tree in the late afternoon with a refreshing beverage and the poems of Robert Frost is a joy.
Joining in the merriment are woodpeckers, cardinals, mourning doves, one tiny Carolina or black-capped chickadee, and a few insolent squirrels. They all gather at the water dish and the feeder to feast on chicken scratch from the feed store. Clouds of humming bees monopolize the water dish but will permit the birds and squirrels to take a sip if they act nicely and behave themselves. These are perfect occasions for reading Robert Frost, and the critters don’t seem to mind either him or me.
The setting sun permits a visual display of the bees as they speed between the water dish and their hives a few hundred yards away. Without those late sunbeams a human could not see them in transit and marvel at their speed and navigation. That they don’t hit each other head-on is a great mystery.
Without bees we would have very little to eat; their transfer of pollens from and to all sorts of trees, crops, grasses, and other plants makes possible the generation of fruits, grains, and vegetables season after season.
Thus, providing water for the little fellows and avoiding dusting the garden against pests until after dark is, as the old farmers always remind us, an essential in life.
As the sun sets the book must be closed and the seat cushions brought inside. After dark the raccoons, flying squirrels, ‘possums, feral cats, and an occasional deer will begin their night patrols in the front yard. Flying squirrels are so tiny that all the security camera catches of them are their bright eyes. If a bit of kitchen scrap has been tossed out then sometimes the Darwinian struggle – well, okay, more of a Darwinian hissy-fit – is played out as ‘possum vs. ‘possum, raccoon vs. racoon, and even raccoon vs. possum. The big raccoon always wins the supper against the ‘possum, but the ‘possum makes a good show of belligerence.
In the mornings there is a scent of skunk lately, but this creature hasn’t yet shown up on the video feed. And I understand; if we smelled like that we wouldn’t want to be out in public either.
-30-
The Darwinian Tomato and a Dead Ant - MePhone Photograph
Just before the rains I plucked this tomato because, although not quite ripe, it was on the ground and I feared it would rot. On the bottom of the tomato I observed a dead ant, somehow crushed by the tomato in the Samsara of my little garden.
Elephant Ears - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Summer's small children in shorts and bare feet
Scamper about in the dewy morning lawns
Among the elephant ears, chasing and laughing
Looking for the rest of the elephant
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Elephant Ears
Summer's small children in shorts and bare feet
Scamper about in the dewy morning lawns
Among the elephant ears, chasing and laughing
Looking for the rest of the elephant
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Death to War Metaphors - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
No soldier nervously checking his magazines at dawn
Whispered that it was just like catching pneumonia
No soldier collapsing over his dying pals
Cried that it was as bad as working in a grocery
No soldier on that thousand-mile front in Russia
Thought that it was like missing graduation
No soldier drowning when his landing craft sank
Screamed that it was just like having to self-isolate
No soldier dying in his own blood and vomit
Agreed that it was like wearing a surgical mask
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Death to War Metaphors
No soldier nervously checking his magazines at dawn
Whispered that it was just like catching pneumonia
No soldier collapsing over his dying pals
Cried that it was as bad as working in a grocery
No soldier on that thousand-mile front in Russia
Thought that it was like missing graduation
No soldier drowning when his landing craft sank
Screamed that it was just like having to self-isolate
No soldier dying in his own blood and vomit
Agreed that it was like wearing a surgical mask
Tuesday, May 12, 2020
An Incomplete Guide to Magnolia Trees - poem and MePhone photograph
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The poor magnolia now is weaponized
Objectified through puerile jokes and scorn
A coarse cliché, a forlorn stereotype
An easy laugh or a malignant sneer
But before man fell with slavery and axe
Its moonlight blossoms blessed the wilderness
With their gifts of beauty and sweet incense
This Eden tree of truth and innocence
There is no evil in anything given
Unless foul man chooses to twist it so
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
An Incomplete Guide to Magnolia Trees
The poor magnolia now is weaponized
Objectified through puerile jokes and scorn
A coarse cliché, a forlorn stereotype
An easy laugh or a malignant sneer
But before man fell with slavery and axe
Its moonlight blossoms blessed the wilderness
With their gifts of beauty and sweet incense
This Eden tree of truth and innocence
There is no evil in anything given
Unless foul man chooses to twist it so
Monday, May 11, 2020
On Transcendent Poetry - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
That which is modern can only decay
Locked within the prison of transience
Ossification as a death sentence
Always refusing to roll the stone away
That which is modern is immediately lost
But springtime, flowers, pilgrimages, lovers
The darling, dancing hummingbird that hovers
Are ever young, not dead eternal frost
That which is modern is fast-rotting flesh
That which is transcendent is always fresh
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
On Transcendent Poetry
Contra Wallace Stevens
That which is modern can only decay
Locked within the prison of transience
Ossification as a death sentence
Always refusing to roll the stone away
That which is modern is immediately lost
But springtime, flowers, pilgrimages, lovers
The darling, dancing hummingbird that hovers
Are ever young, not dead eternal frost
That which is modern is fast-rotting flesh
That which is transcendent is always fresh
Sunday, May 10, 2020
A Virus-Free Haircut in Honor of the Governor of Texas - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A haircut today – my wolfman look is shorn
The virus-time follicles set to rights
Follies and follicles, the locks of lockdown
A-tumbling down in coarse, unseemly waves
The haircut lady continues a narrative
Begun two months before, a local scandal
Unmasked (as are we) to the buzz of the shears
“And I’d tell the governor where he can go…!”
My hair…
In isolation so long embedded -
But suddenly, now, I feel light-headed!
(A shortcoming of lady barbers is that their shops do not feature pictures of poker-playing dogs.)
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Virus-Free Haircut in Honor of the Governor of Texas
And in memory of Harry and Shorty Driskill,
Our little town’s barbers in the long-ago
A haircut today – my wolfman look is shorn
The virus-time follicles set to rights
Follies and follicles, the locks of lockdown
A-tumbling down in coarse, unseemly waves
The haircut lady continues a narrative
Begun two months before, a local scandal
Unmasked (as are we) to the buzz of the shears
“And I’d tell the governor where he can go…!”
My hair…
In isolation so long embedded -
But suddenly, now, I feel light-headed!
(A shortcoming of lady barbers is that their shops do not feature pictures of poker-playing dogs.)
Saturday, May 9, 2020
The Unwilling Suspension of Belief - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Prelates, preachers, premiers, princes, and presidents
Now publish proclamations at the speed of lies
And just as rapidly retract them again
Regretting only their subjects’ lack of wit:
Obey The Science, whatever it is today
For it will be something else tomorrow
And so we need not fear our punishments
For the mistakes that our leaders never made
But, shhhhhhhhhhh…
If everything they teach is proven to be bluff
Then we must be the truth –
and we are enough
The reader will remember the concept of willing suspension of disbelief from drama, such as when the Prologue in Henry V urges the audience to imagine the “The vasty fields of France… / Within this wooden O...”
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Unwilling Suspension of Belief
Prelates, preachers, premiers, princes, and presidents
Now publish proclamations at the speed of lies
And just as rapidly retract them again
Regretting only their subjects’ lack of wit:
Obey The Science, whatever it is today
For it will be something else tomorrow
And so we need not fear our punishments
For the mistakes that our leaders never made
But, shhhhhhhhhhh…
If everything they teach is proven to be bluff
Then we must be the truth –
and we are enough
The reader will remember the concept of willing suspension of disbelief from drama, such as when the Prologue in Henry V urges the audience to imagine the “The vasty fields of France… / Within this wooden O...”
Friday, May 8, 2020
Like Far-Out Totally Drug Trippin', Man - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A pill or two, inhaling funny stuff
Green stripes floating before and through my eyes
Oh, wow, dude, and maybe behind my eyes
The sixties regrooved in day-glow colored lights
Floating above this alien planet, I was
A dream aloft, or lofting up a dream
Shankaring that zitaring ups we go
That falls like moonbeams on a blue-slept sea
For an hour disharmony seemed resolved -
Oh, why does there have to be dentistry involved?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Like Far-Out Totally Drug Trippin’, Man
A pill or two, inhaling funny stuff
Green stripes floating before and through my eyes
Oh, wow, dude, and maybe behind my eyes
The sixties regrooved in day-glow colored lights
Floating above this alien planet, I was
A dream aloft, or lofting up a dream
Shankaring that zitaring ups we go
That falls like moonbeams on a blue-slept sea
For an hour disharmony seemed resolved -
Oh, why does there have to be dentistry involved?
Thursday, May 7, 2020
So That's Why Texas Jails Beauticians - weekly column
Lawrence (Mack) Hall, HSG
So That’s Why Texas
Jails Beauticians
The concept of essential jobs and nonessential jobs
eludes many of us. If you have a job it’s an essential job because food,
clothing, and shelter are essential. Who
is it who sits enthroned on high with the authority from some planetary
overlord to determine whether your job is essential?
Beauticians, whose daily practices and spaces have always
been required to meet strict education, re-education, safety, health, and
hygiene requirements, have of late been shut down, shut out, and shut up, and when
several of them got all uppity about needing to work – work – have been
investigated and sometimes jailed (https://reason.com/2020/05/07/texas-governor-greg-abbott-will-not-jail-people-shelley-luther-for-violating-coronavirus-social-distancing/).
And we the people understand: law-abiding citizens must
be protected from wild-eyed barbers and beauticians wielding semi-automatic
assault scissors with 30-round banana magazines. No one knows the horrible
death rate inflicted on innocents by those out-of-control clipper-crazies.
Why can’t beauticians and barbers be more like, oh,
hot-air balloon pilots who charge people for flights?
According to the FAA (http://www.pilotfriend.com/training/flight_training/faa_bal.htm),
requirements to fly as a commercial balloon pilot begin with:
Subpart
E -- Commercial Pilots
·
The
age requirement for a commercial pilot certificate is 18 years.
·
Read,
speak and understand the English language.
·
No
medical certificate required. Same as paragraph 3 above.
·
The
applicant must pass a more advanced written test on the subject matter listed
in paragraph 4 above, additional operating procedures relating to commercial
operations, and those duties required of a flight instructor.
·
Advanced
training must be received from an authorized instructor including those items
listed in paragraph 5 above plus emergency recovery from a terminal velocity
descent.
·
The
applicant for a commercial certificate must have at least 35 hours of flight
time as a pilot, of which 20 hours must be in balloons, 6 under the supervision
of an instructor, 2 solo flights, 2 flights of at least one duration, and one
flight to 5000 feet above the take-off point.
The holder of a commercial
pilot's certificate may operate a balloon for hire and may give flight
instruction.
Want to go for a balloon ride?
According to the State of Texas, requirements to work as
a cosmetologist or barber (https://www.tdlr.texas.gov/cosmet/cosmetlaw.htm)
(pour yourself a cup of coffee; this is going to take a while) begin with:
OCCUPATIONS CODE
TITLE 9. REGULATION OF BARBERS, COSMETOLOGISTS, AND RELATED OCCUPATIONS
CHAPTER 1602. COSMETOLOGISTS
(Effective date September 1, 2019)
Table of Contents
These strict requirements wisely keep beauticians and
barbers from killing people by flying them into power lines or by dropping them
thousands of feet to their deaths when the balloon catches fire.
So, yeah, that’s why Texas jails beauticians.
-30-
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