Tuesday, September 7, 2021

If This Were Kabul We’d Call It Nation Building - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

If This Were Kabul We’d Call It Nation Building

 

At Least 6 Killed, 56 Wounded In Chicago Labor Day Weekend Gun Violence

 

-CBS 2 Chicago

 

Maybe one of the civilized nations

Will send us aid: food packages, nylons

Chocolate for the children, used clothing

Cigarettes for the old men, can openers

 

Maybe one of the civilized nations

Will send their young soldiers to guard our streets

And missionaries to teach us the Bible

And volunteer nurses to teach us hygiene

 

Maybe one of the civilized nations

Will pity us, and make us a protectorate

 

 

(From a reminder by Anthony Germain)

Monday, September 6, 2021

Cognitive Dissonance by Order of Higher Authority - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Cognitive Dissonance by Order of Higher Authority

 

The greatest evil is…conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried,

and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed and well-lighted offices…

 

-C. S Lewis, Preface to The Screwtape Letters

 

It is illogical to determine

That a class of humans must not be human

And so not only may this class be destroyed

But must be destroyed for some sort of cause

 

It is illogical to determine

That some should be ashes or specimens in jars

Quivering bloody lumps flung into fires

Or into bags labeled “Medical Waste”

 

It is illogical to determine

Who may live, and who must be

                                                    medically served

Sunday, September 5, 2021

A Wristwatch Named Karen - weekly column, 5 September 2021

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A Wristwatch Named Karen

 

Okay, that’s really not fair. Every Karen I have every known is a joy to be around. Let’s just say that I have a wristwatch with a bossy ‘tude.

 

This summer someone near and dear to me gave me one of those clever computerized watches to replace my classic (old) $8 Timex.

 

Karen-the-Watch features a big screen onto which I can easily sweep dozens of different faces. I picked the one most like my minimalist (old) Timex with sweep hands and plain numbers that light up all the time, the day, the date, and, as a tribute to our ancestors who followed lunar calendars, a moon phase image.

 

When I sweep the face up a dashboard with six features appears: wi-fi signal strength meter, a find-the-dumb-phone tap-thing, a battery indicator, an on-off for sounds, a switch to kill the watch’s lights while in a theatre, and a walkie-talkie gadget I haven’t yet figured out.

 

If I receive a message from Dick Tracy or anyone else, or some other notification (they bounce from the MePhone), I sweep the face down to read it.

 

Tapping the stem calls up a list of some 47 (I counted) features, including all the applications on my MePhone made available on Karen-the-Watch, only somewhat modified. On a news app, for instance, you see the headlines and maybe a part of the story. If you have more apps on your MePhone you will have more apps on your Karen-the-Watch

 

Others on the list include pulse, blood oxygen levels (ask your grandpa about femoral sticks for that purpose), ‘phone, pulse, wake-up alarm (soft Viennese music that slowly becomes rather Germanically noisy if you don’t respond), calendar, calculator, compass, and lots of things I’ve yet to figure out.

 

One of the coolest is an EKG.  I can’t read an EKG, but I can see it on the screen and on the MePhone. All those squiggly lines probably mean something. Maybe it’s a coded message from R (or P – some consonant, anyway).

 

Karen-the-Watch tracks the number of steps I take and the distance I make. I’m shooting for 6,000 steps and three miles every 24 hours and usually accomplish them. There are little bars for each hour which light up in sequence when you stand up and do something. Sitting at a desk or in front of a legacy (old) television set doesn’t count. If you are sedentary for too long Karen-the-Watch sends you a message suggesting (sort of like a drill sergeant’s suggestions) that you should get up and move about for a minute or so.

 

My Karen-the-Watch came with an ugly and uncomfortable rubber strap (what was someone not thinking?) which I quickly replaced with several inexpensive after-market cloth and leather straps from Volga.com (or is it Danube.com – some river, anyway). To change a strap doesn’t require fiddling with spring-loaded pins; you just slide-and-click the straps out and in as necessary.

 

Karen-the-Watch synchronizes with the MePhone for most purposes, but when they are far away from each other Karen shows the time and tracks fitness but won’t send or receive messages.

 

The only complaint (first-world problems, right?) is that Karen-the-Phone holds its charge for only about 24 hours. If you’re going on a trip you’ll have to bring along her special little magnetic charger.

 

Beyond that…but wait…Karen-the-Watch speaks:

 

“You need to get to the treadmill now. The nice people have better things to do than listen to you babble.”

 

“Yes, dear.”

 

-30-

 

A Meditation on Caspar David Friedrich’s “Wanderer above the Mist” - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Meditation on Caspar David Friedrich’s

“Wanderer above the Mist”

 

For victory alone he chooses to exist

He takes a triumphant and well-earned breath

But what if that wanderer above the mist

Slips on a banana peel to his death!

Saturday, September 4, 2021

No Surrender to Viruses or Fools - poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

No Surrender to Viruses or Fools

 

My head is bloody, but unbowed

 

-Henley, “Invictus”

 

We planned to build in peace a better world

With hands and tools and minds and arts and sweat

A home and bed for every little child

With love and peace around each family’s hearth

 

But now we daily read the deaths of friends

 

Futility is wormed into our hopes

By fatal vapors coursing through the air

Adrift on breathy particles, scornful

Of everything we’ve worked for all out lives

 

For still we daily read the deaths of friends

 

Some of us blame each other, or just give up

And wallow in despair, but not you and I

                                                         

Let’s help each other - we’ve got a world to build

 

 

 


 

("Invictus" is something of a cliche' now, and flawed in some ways, but its attitude of defiance and stoicism is still admirable.)

Friday, September 3, 2021

The© Happy™ Home© Akku-Rite™ OTC Covid-1 Test© - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The© Happy™ Home© Akku-Rite™ OTC Covid-1 Test©

 

The picture on the box features a couple

Cuddling cutely in domestic bliss

As they poke the swabs way up each other’s nose

(Oh, don’t be scandalized; they’re married, of course!)

 

These and other fine products are distributed by

Consolidated HelthKare Medical, Inc.

Makers of the Kut-Kut© Home Vasectomy Kit

And

Ol’ Doc Zeke’s™ Happy Mule© Diarrhea Remedy

 

Ol’ Doc Zeke’s™ Happy Mule© Diarrhea Remedy™

Is not approved for use in humans (wink, wink)

Thursday, September 2, 2021

Liberation Begins with our Minds - Poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Liberation Begins with our Minds

 

At lunch today, or during a coffee break

We could switch the break room radio on

To the voices of someone else’s America

Demagogues yelling at us what to think

 

Or we could open that ancient paperback

Held together with tape and rubber bands

And continue Saint Augustine’s Confessions

Which we began in our younger, happier days

 

Eternal words, and not some Leader’s noise

Because you and I are not trapped in time

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

Communities - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Communities

 

We often read about communities:

 

The intelligence community

The black community

The LGBT community

The arts community

 

Communities

 

The Hispanic community

The white community

The evangelical community

The educational community

 

Communities

 

One imagines a community:

Volunteer fire department, VFW

Parks, shops, a Methodist church across the street

From Our Lady of Guadalupe

 

Communities

 

But communities seem mostly to be

Lonely people stereotyping others

On the InterGossip with big ol’ words

Tuesday, August 31, 2021

"I Guess You Saw a Lot of Action, Huh?" - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

“I Guess You Saw a Lot of Action, Huh?”

 

Don’t

 

You and I weren’t there; it’s none of our business

They will talk about it among themselves

Politely excluding us, as they should

Mostly each will grapple with it in the dark

 

Alone

 

You and I weren’t there; it’s none of our business

They might become more open when they are old

When God speaks to them from the desert and plain

But the decision is theirs; it is their pain

 

Theirs

 

You and I weren’t there; it’s none of our business

Don’t ask

Don’t even speak

Just leave it alone

Monday, August 30, 2021

A Remembrance - weekly column 29 August 2021

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A Remembrance

 

Last week more of this nation’s finest young men and women were killed by a depraved suicide bomber.

 

Along with our young Marines, a Navy Hospital Corpsman (“Doc”), and a Soldier, hundreds of civilian men, women, and children were blown apart because they wanted to be free.

 

Our young American men and women were serving our nation and helping refugees because they were always encouraged to be the best.

 

Other young men and women are sometimes commanded by their perverse elders to be the worst.

 

There is a difference.

 

We have all seen our young men and women tend to the babies, the sick, and the elderly, giving them water and food and comfort. These are not propaganda images; every soldier, sailor, airman, and Marine who has seen the elephant can tell you of the generosity and kindness of American grunts toward displaced civilians. The notorious exceptions are just that, exceptions, a failure to meet the standards expected of every G.I.

 

Our wonderful young men and women, hardly out of their teens, died on their feet doing good, bravely and in the open.

 

Their murderer was a skulking wretch who could only cling to his hatred and his bomb.

 

There is a difference.

 

The young men and women who were murdered last week did not go to The Right Schools, did not wear custom-made uniforms with lots of shiny stars and gew-gaws, and did not sip single-malt in oak-paneled rooms with wealthy arms dealers I mean government contractors.  They carried rifles and aid-bags and the burden of duty, not briefcases, and they busted a sweat in the field, not on the golf course. The concept of summering in the Hamptons was unknown to them; they summered on the rifle range and in technical school

 

There is a difference.

 

They probably didn’t execute a salute as precisely and as prettily as some of our political leaders who never made the first day of recruit training, but their salutes meant something.

 

There is a difference.

 

These young men and women found a purpose.

 

They made a righteous difference.

 

They did good.

 

 

 

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: 

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

 

-Laurence Binyon, “For the Fallen”

 

-30-

 

By God, The President Can Execute a Snappy Salute - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Man Can Execute a Snappy Salute

 

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute

Though he never made the first day of boot camp

Maybe he learned to salute from watching Patton

Or John Wayne movies, over and over

 

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute

Even while propped up by his briefcase boys

Showing off his practiced thousand-yard stare

While thirteen flag-covered coffins are carried by

 

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute -

And the brave young people who trusted him

 

Sunday, August 29, 2021

Why Does Saint Augustine Have Two Feast Days? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Why Does Saint Augustine Have Two Feast Days?

 

“Take it and read, take it and read.”

 

-Saint Augustine, Confessions

 

Trans. R. S. Pine-Coffin, Penguin Classics

 

Why does Saint Augustine have two feast days?

Because he speaks to both the East and West

A little child still says it to us twice

“Take it and read, take it and read.”

                                                         We should listen

Saturday, August 28, 2021

We All Dream of Our Own Library Someday - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

We All Dream of Our Own Library Someday

 

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.

 

-attributed to Marcus Tullius Cicero

Ad Familiares, Letter IV to Varro

 

 

We all dream of our own library someday

Shelf after shelf of finely bound editions

An oak-paneled room with a stone fireplace

And French windows that open to the sea

 

We all dream of our own library someday

A handsome wooden table instead of a desk

Lamplight and candlelight that fall upon

The open pages of a Russian poet

 

We all dream of our own library someday -

For now, a back-pack paperback must do



(My dream library is in a wood or a wooded park, but “sea” set itself into place and refused to move. Perhaps I saw your dream library for a moment.)


Friday, August 27, 2021

An Old Man Clinging to a Microphone - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

 

An Old Man Clinging to a Microphone

 

Those he commands move only in command,

Nothing in love…

 

-Macbeth V.ii.19-20

 

An old man bowed his head, maybe in prayer

Asking forgiveness for the massacre of innocents

Or maybe he was sorry only for himself

Because no one liked him anymore

 

His speech was as fragmented as the dead

He gobbled out words, poor scripted cliches’

Those in attendance felt little for him -

Pity, yes, and surely something of fear

 

For no one dared ask him, as he shuffled away,

“Mr. President, will you please resign today?”

Thursday, August 26, 2021

Gifted - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

“Gifted” is not a Verb

 

“Stop it. Just stop it.”

 

-Bob Newhart

 

A gift is given, not gifted

“Give” is the given action verb

Let not your strong usage be shifted -

Just dump the fashions at the curb

Wednesday, August 25, 2021

Noah Sends out Another Dove Today - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Noah Sends out Another Dove Today

 

Some other land, some other sea

 

-Cavafy, “The City”

 

If Noah were to release that dove today

It would fall along with the olive branch

Along with all hope, blasted out of the sky

Its bloody feathers fluttering to earth

 

Among refugees who haven’t the right papers

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Boxes are for FedEx - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Boxes are for FedEx

 

You don’t want to hear about my boxes

I don’t much care much about your boxes

Boxes are for FedEx. And birthday gifts

Good Comrades check boxes;

                                                poets create

Beauty among the chaos

Monday, August 23, 2021

"Hell in a Very Small Place" - weekly column, 22 August 2021

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

“Hell in a Very Small Place”

 

Note: Events in Kabul could make this column obsolete before its publication, or even before it is finished.

 

There are only ten, maybe fifteen Americans – I am one of them - who do not know how to evacuate from Kabul the thousands of Americans, allies, and the many people now on a Taliban death list because they worked as receptionists or cleaners or area supervisors for any of the many nations who had charities, businesses, investments, or military services in Afghanistan.

 

A comparison is never exact; if it were it would be the thing itself and not a comparison. That said, the airport in Kabul appears to be a Dien Bien Phu, meeting the Bernard Fall standard of “Hell in a very small place.”

 

The airport is a small area, surrounded by an army of evil men and crowded with thousands of desperate civilians who need lots of food, water, shelter, and protection. It is garrisoned by British, American, Italian, French, Turkish and German soldiers who need lots of food, water, ammunition, and the other necessities of war. The only way in or out is by aircraft, and those can be downed on approach or takeoff even by light weapons (which our government so thoughtfully provided to the wrong people). The electricity and water can be cut at any time and the backups shelled, and then the Taliban will have our people and our friends in a position that cannot be held for more than a few hours.

 

A question is why the Taliban are waiting. Are they secretly negotiating with London and Washington for huge payoffs? Presumably they are also putting their armor and artillery (again, which our government so thoughtfully gave them) into position along with assault formations, possibly coordinated by efficient, ruthless Chinese Red Army liaison officers.

 

But maybe the Chinese aren’t involved – the fellows from the hills who were dismissed by our leaders as disorganized seventh-century tribal warriors turned out to be pretty darned organized after all. Many of them can’t read, write, or think critically, but they are excellent with electronics and the best and latest weapons (and you paid for all that stuff).

 

By the way, when you get up tomorrow morning and coax your old car’s engine into turning over so you can go to work, think about all the Taliban swelling around Kabul in all those expensive Hummers your work bought for them.

 

Why all this is happening is to me unknown.  I know only that a great many young American soldiers and those of other countries have been left with a mess made by our leader-class who know more about partying than they do about history.  While the tailored suits of Merovingians and the tailored uniforms of courtier-generals are positioned for Bagdad-Bob press briefings in D.C., our young enlisted women and men, some cranky old NCOs, and maybe a grey-haired major or two long ago passed over for promotion are in the dust in Kabul sorting out the mess. Their uniforms aren’t pretty, what with the blood and dirt and heat, but maybe they won’t be written up for being non-reg.

 

When this is all over there will be more medals and commendations handed out along the halls of the Pentagon than will be awarded to real soldiers.

 

But, hey, who needs to know history, right? It’s one of those useless liberal arts. All we need to do is chant “Learn. To. Code.” over and over.  Well, we learned to code, all right, but the products of all that coding have been given to the Taliban and their new Red Army pals.

 

What will happen this week in Kabul? And who will be left behind?

 

 

Massacre of British Army in Afghanistan in 1842 (thoughtco.com)

 

The Second Anglo-Afghan War in the Late 1870s (thoughtco.com)

 

Hell In A Very Small Place: The Siege Of Dien Bien Phu: Fall, Bernard, Fall, Bernard B.: 8601234570592: Amazon.com: Books

 

Soviet invasion of Afghanistan | Summary & Facts | Britannica

 

-30-

 

Absent Friends and Failing Light - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Absent Friends and Failing Light

 

We all have lists of absent friends

Who were with us one week and Covid the next

With unfinished stories and little jokes

We meant to tell each other the next time we met

 

The very picture of health, we say to ourselves

Shooting a few hoops (“Yeah, I still got it!”)

Washing the pickup, coffee after Mass

Merriment – but then a note – in failing light

 

Life is shadowy, seen through a dark, dark lens

We all have lists of absent friends

Sunday, August 22, 2021

The Critics not Taken - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Critics not Taken

 

Everyone says we’re reading the poem all wrong -

“The Road not Taken” is about Edward Thomas

Joining the army or Robert Frost not

And why is one road less traveled and is that good?

 

Is it bad? And why is the wood yellow?

Who is prolonging the decision, and why?

Maybe the road not taken should be

Quoting it at every high school graduation

 

We’ve heard it so often that we want to say:

Just make a decision then go away!