Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 After Momma’s Funeral

Three Voices:

Where does – I mean, did – Momma keep the coffee?
That cupboard over the coffee maker
The preacher prayed a fine funeral for her
He’s an idiot; no one believes that stuff

Momma did; I say that’s what important
Let’s not argue; Momma wouldn’t like it
It doesn’t make any difference; she’s gone
And let’s not babble about what Momma wants

I’m not babbling; Momma raised us right, okay?
I want her Bible.
                                   Fine; I want her car

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                After St. Petersburg, St. Giles’ Street

Today we’re visiting Russia with a friend
Perhaps a Russia that never really was
Ideas, tea, and holy earth; just now
We’re asking a blessing from Father Zosima

Tomorrow we’re off to England, all of us
Perhaps an England that never really was
Ideas, tea, and holy earth; and soon
We’ll stroll through Oxford with poems on our lips

And exchange Shakespearean bon mots
With the ****** barmaid at the Eagle and Child

After Thanksgiving - We Are One Debris

A paper napkin with a turkey on it
Discarded outside by an errant child
Culturally appropriates among the leaves
It seems to want to join its fallen brothers

Raw and natural in their native state
In multicultural deconstructions
Like, you know, all spiritual and stuff
Becoming one existential leaf-mold

Filtered through November’s hipster glasses
A paper napkin with a turkey on it

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]


                                             After the Elections


                                     What century is it outside?

                           -Boris Pasternak, “About These Poems”


Perhaps next we will have book burnings, torchlight parades
And children singing "The Horst Wessel Song"
To be scared is okay, even logical
But it’s not okay to recuse one’s self on election day

After Their Divorce

In his garage he takes a break, and sits
Among all the mechanical debris
Of an inventor born a century late:
Unsorted hopes, tools, dreams, and engine parts

The project car that he and his son will never
Rebuild together on Sunday afternoons
An old guitar, an ashtray full of ends
A midden of beer cans crushed in memories

He should be loading his truck and trailer, but
In his garage, in bitterness, he waits

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                             After the Passing of the Bishop of Rome

                                The first task of a bishop is to pray.


                          -Pope Francis, The closeness of bishops
                                    (20 September 2019) | Francis


I think I’m the only Catholic in all of Christendom
Who is not giving the Holy Spirit instructions
On whom to choose for the next Bishop of Rome
And, shut my mouth, I mean to keep it that way

More Former People

You see them, sometimes, lurking in the shadows
Slipping away furtively, trying not to be seen
They’d rather clutch a volume of Dostoyevsky
Than try to act like good, plain, honest folks

They always thought they were something special
Always thinking about stuff, reading books
Not chanting the day’s slogans when they’re told
Not joining in, still thinking the old thoughts

We don’t need them. Our Leader will provide
You see us, sometimes, dying for ration cards

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                           The Whole World is Laughing

Two ****** men grappling over nuclear codes
Flinging schoolyard abuse about like poo
We still don’t know who won the election

We only know who lost

Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

            After We Shoot the Traitors Let’s Go for a Hamburger

Th’ devil’s in control; you could look it up
It’s right there in some righteous Christian podcasts
An’ we need to be armed against th’ Left
Like them pizza child molesters and stuff

I got me my AR-15 against them devils
DON’T CALL IT AN ASSAULT RIFLE!!!!!
It’ll blow uh liberal’s head right off
DON’T CALL IT AN ASSAULT RIFLE!!!!!

And this is a REPUBLIC, not a DEMOCRACY!
If they mess up my fry order I’m gonna shoot someone

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          A Fugitive in His Haunted Night

A police car parked in front of the house
They say there’s a fugitive in the woods
Bailed out of his truck on a county road
Abandoning his girlfriend to be nabbed

Well, poor man, he’s lost his truck and his girl
And gained mosquitoes, snakes, coyotes, heat
A fading MePhone signal, rain, rot, mud
And another three years in a white cotton suit

Why?

Perhaps, like many another poor soul
He lost his way while searching for elusive Truth

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                   A Full Moon Every Night

I’d like a full moon every night. But why?
The cycles, the dance of the solar calendar
The dance of the shadowing lunar calendar
The stern regulae of the liturgical calendar

All swing in orbits through the universe
Orbits that vary wildly yet keep returning
Returning to each other in sacred waves
That in their seasons send the moon to us

But I’d like a full moon every night anyway
And why?

Because she’s pretty

A Full Moon Every Night
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                   A Full Moon Every Night

I’d like a full moon every night. But why?
The cycles, the dance of the solar calendar
The dance of the shadowing lunar calendar
The stern regulae of the liturgical calendar

All swing in orbits through the universe
Orbits that vary wildly yet keep returning
Returning to each other in sacred waves
That in their seasons send the moon to us

But I’d like a full moon every night anyway
And why?

Because she’s pretty

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                      A Garden is a Department of Metaphysics

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.

-Rumi


A garden is a Department of Metaphysics
Promethean fire and shadows in a cave of light
Leaves of trees falling upon more leaves
The leaves of books left open to the sun

The lecture lawn is furnished with old chairs
Old garden chairs rusty with wisdom and age
From duty to weather and men, the several cathedrae
Of the learned Order of Gaffer Swanthold

Athena’s owl calls from the nearby wood
Calling all men to silence and reflection

Lawrence Hall
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Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           A Ghost Road Through the Marsh

              The days are gone
              When the kingdoms of earth flourished in glory

              -from “The Seafarer”, Burton Raffel’s fine translation


Water ran in rivulets among the weeds
The wind was lowering, the rain had stopped, the sky
Was low and grey over a landscape bleak
With wreckage and windfall from the passing storm

An old man slowly worked to clear the road
While the young impatiently hooted and honked
Their displeasure that the world they hadn’t worked
Wasn’t working quite right for them today

The old man sometimes spoke with the ghosts of Rome
Who had built and marched their roads until
The egos and angerings of emperors and kings
Abandoned all good work to slow decay

The young one-fingered past him among the brome
And disappeared forever into the gloam

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                             A Gift of Omelettes

                                               For Max and Tod

We leave the comfort of a little fire
And repair to the kitchen for a morning repast
Of bacon crisp, of toast from homebaked bread
And omelettes more golden than the morning sun

The dogs come with us, for something good might fall
To be nipped before it ever hits the floor
And the fireside conversation begun
Continues around the festive Dickension board

Old friends, old dogs, and Christmas coming soon
And omelettes - altogether a happy boon!

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                         A Gold-Tone Case for Business Cards

A gold-tone case for business cards that read
“(Something) Enterprises Unlimited”
An address that included the word “Suite”
Which was only a bedroom with a folding table

A telephone number that no longer exists
Which never rang a number that no one ever called
And a dead-end @aol.com
For a business that was only a dream

Buried in a suit from the 1980s
The Men’s Store at Sears – The Classic Collection

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                 A Good Enough Leaf-Time

No more the withered summer-browns of death
Crumbling and sere upon the dry and crackling ground
Beneath a Rime of the Ancient Mariner sky -
Leaves in autumn colours are falling now

Pale greens, poor yellows, weak reds, but good enough
To decorate this time of early frosts
With appropriate merriment, good enough
To rake into playtime heaps for children and dogs

These modest scenes will attract no peepers this year
But I will send you a snap – it’s good enough!

The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)

The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med

The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car

His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know

The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room

Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs

The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove

One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”

The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)

The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers

The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised

Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?

But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]

                                        A Government Church?

          We establish no religion in this country. We command no
           worship. We mandate no belief, nor will we ever. Church and
           state are and must remain separate.

              - President Ronald Reagan, Speech in Temple Hillel,
                Valley Stream, New York, 26 October 1984

Each American may his own conscience search
For by the Grace of God we have no national church

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  A Grim Quatrain on Mortality

A dog sees birds with its malevolent eyes
And puts the poor feathered creatures to rout
But one day in the field the old dog dies -
The poor birds then will have the dog’s eyes out

Once upon a time -

A young philosopher sat among men
In the shaded olive groves of Athens
Incense to the Muses, wisdom to all
His ideas soared like Athena’s owls

One day a wise ómorfo korítsi
Delighted him with her strong arguments
Delighted him with her dark Hellenic eyes
Delighted him with a dinner invitation

And as they reclined in symposium met
With verse and wine and wisdom in delight
He excused himself to the toualéta
Where on its walls he read in Attic verse:

If you sprinkle
When you ******
Be a sweetie
Lift the seatie

After that his fellow philosophers
Saw him gently into a nursing home

You're lonely in an apartment at night
But lonesome way off in a pickup truck

Lonely sitting in an IKEA chair
Lonesome on the tail-gate of an old Ford

Lonely over a glass of single-malt
Lonesome over a Marlboro and a beer

Lonely surfing the channels of emptiness
Lonesome listening to the silence of stars

And either way you hurt; she isn’t there
No, she sure ain’t

A Hasty Partisan Response to the Mueller Report

                      “And art made tongue-tied by authority”

                         -Sonnet 66, often quoted by Pasternak

The Russian reports on my desk include:

Selected Poems, Yevtushenko
The Possessed, Dostoyevsky
The Zhivago Affair, Finn and Couvee
The Complete Poems of Anna Ahkmatova
August 1914, Solzhenitsyn

And some of them unread, some of them read
And better read than red, so someone said
Some of them shelved (We and The House of the Dead)
But now I’m going to work the flower bed

And what century is it outside?  1


1 Pasternak

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

          A High-Tuned White Boy and his Come-to-Jesus Moment

Only yesterday he was in control
Of his high-tuned, high-speed, white-boy screaming ride
Race-tracking our ***-holed, beer-canned country road
Without regard for sanity, safety, or sense

Today he sits and sulks in the passenger seat
Of the little wifey’s Toyota sedan
Shadowed by his grim-faced mother-in-law
Like maybe they’re off to see the judge

In this procession he seems all alone -
His hot sports car is apparently gone

A Boy’s happy Christmas in the long ago
Miss Dee found it in an old house she bought
*** metal with the paint peeling away
Wire axles and rubber tires that still roll

No carpet in those years, a wood-plank floor
Was the dreamland for winter adventures
Between the gas fire and the Christmas tree
Between the morning and evening milkings

Somewhere an old man misses his fire truck -
His happy Christmas in the long ago

A Hurricane at the Bus Stop

Sunday Night in East Texas

There will be no big yellow busses tomorrow
Clattering along dusty rural roads
And stopping for each bouquet of children
Lovely, and flower-fresh in their store-new clothes

Through day and night, and day and night again
The rain has fallen in tired metaphors
As fire-ants float along in stinging *****
And water-moccasins swim the lawn with death

Stories and riddles by lamp-light tonight,
And “Someday you’ll tell your children about this”

Air Raid

Wings
Extended for the angle of attack,
The predator powers into his dive
And falls upon his target just as dawn
Lights up the scene and drives away the mist.
The mockingbird launches himself into
And through the air defenses of the cat,
Who claws the air with furious, futile strokes
As the eternally insolent enemy
Sweeps back triumphantly into the sky,
A looted dog-food pellet beak-pinched away.

The dog
Is unimpressed, and so resumes her sleep.

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]


                                                  A Japanese Army Cap

                         "A fool lies here who tried to hustle the east"

                                                          -Kipling

Long, long ago in a land far away
I met some children playing on a river bank
One little boy wore a Japanese Army cap
Faded and old – I wondered who wore it first?

I tried to buy it from him - an MPC dollar?
No.
Five dollars?
No.
Ten dollars?
Laughter and another no.
Twenty good American MPC dollars?
No.

We continued our patrol up to Cambodia
And back again
I did not leave my bones in Viet-Nam
Nor even my cap  
                                            (I was a fool all the same)

A John LeCarre’ Novel

The brick walls of the houses along the street
Are always centuries-damp in the dim streetlights
Flickering yellow past the garbage cans
And is that sound - water dripping? Footsteps?

She was to meet him in the shadows of
A shuttered plywood newspaper kiosk
That tiny red spark over there – it moves
But she doesn’t smoke. And she’s very cautious

A scream. A shot. A cat. A light. A voice,

A very soft voice:

“Mustn’t be found here, old boy.  Need a lift?”

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     A Joyful Mystery

May we all someday
Be presented in the Temple
In spite of ourselves

Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  A Judge Who Looks Like Me

I do not want a judge who looks like me
I want a judge who looks at me
                                                  and you
And tells us all, “You have asked for justice
And justice you will have.”

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim’s Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Fellowship & Fairydust (fellowshipandfairydust.com)
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          A Komboskini for Christmas

For Christmas I gave my friend a komboskini
The seller said it was made on Mount Athos
Though I in my modern cynicism suggested Shanghai
But I might have been wrong

A Lady and Her Two Knights

For their Nona and Papaw

Three young adults walking along to Mass
Pals from childhood, arms around each other,
Laughing, and pausing briefly for a mama-picture -
For them, even October is their spring

And in this springtime of their lives they offer
All of their happiness to Our Lord Himself,
All together Ad Altare Dei,
To God who giveth joy to their youth1

Three friends laughing, taking the morning air:
Two knights honored to escort their lady fair

1paraphrased from the Missale Romanum of 1962

A Laughing Springtime Child

Her locker was just outside the classroom door
And sometimes during class change I called out
Confusing numbers as she worked and turned
The combination lock: “12...32...”

Ashley indulged her teacher’s feeble attempts
At humor, twirled the dial exactly right,
Popped open the locker, and laughed:
“Ya can’t fool me, Mr. Hall; I am good!”

And indeed you were, and are, and will be forever,
Forever our happy, laughing springtime child

“And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
-- Hamlet, V.ii.371

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                      A Lawnmower, Chlorophyll, Birds, and Love

           “A little place in the country, a dog, a few good books –
                               every Englishman’s dream”

            -David Niven as Sir Arthur in 55 Days at Peking

A lawnmower is a rackety thing
But the garden doesn’t seem to mind at all
This second mowing of the season:
“Just a little trim along the edges”

The bees among the flowers and their little pool
Bobbin’ robins up early for their worms
Woodpeckers and finches at the feeder
And young oak leaves showing off their new green

Honoring each life as a sister or brother –
Love is much better than shooting each other

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  A Lawnmower in Idle Repose

I found a treasure of bluebonnets in a weedy ditch
Next to the shell of a rotted armadillo
That’s where the mower stopped (“son of a /////!”)
(Apologies for the verbal pecadillo)

I bought the mower from a long-time friend
It worked for an hour and came to a stop
Its beginning was also pretty much its end
Its career has been long visits to the shop

One of life’s great truths (there are many more):
Never, ever buy a used lawnmower

To make the worship of a state the source
Of all the aspirations of a man
Of all his duties and of all his arts
Is not to be a man or artist at all

A Letter from Ekaterinburg

Dormition of the Theotokos
1917

Dear Alexei,

We are enjoying a beautiful summer –
The days have been perfect ever since spring
Cooler mornings now, and that’s about it -
Nothing exciting ever happens here

How is the new government working out?
Some of the banknotes are overprinted
With vague slogans covering the Czar, but
Nothing exciting ever happens here

Petrograd must be exciting for you, but
Nothing exciting ever happens here.

Write soon,

-Mitya

A Letter from Ekaterinburg

Dormition of the Theotokos
1917

Dear Alexei,

We are enjoying a beautiful summer –
The days have been perfect ever since spring
Cooler mornings now, and that’s about it -
Nothing exciting ever happens here

How is the new government working out?
Some of the banknotes are overprinted
With vague slogans covering the Czar, but
Nothing exciting ever happens here

Petrograd must be exciting for you, but
Nothing exciting ever happens here.

Write soon,

-Mitya

Click to make a gift

My Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Click to make a gift

My sadness, anger, and shame concrete plan
I will travel to Rome third-party reporting
Mechanisms examining specific
Options advocate concrete proposals

Click to make a gift

Expertise relevant disciplines need
Such tools already exist our structures
Must preclude criterion zero tolerance
Outreach psychological development

Click to make a gift

This is the church house, this is the steeple
Where the Bishop dumps words upon the people

Click to make a gift

Alexander Pushkin and the Poker-Playing Dogs

We can have our Pushkin, all thinky and sad
And our poker-playing pups, cheating at cards
Ruslan and Ludmylla dancing on ice
At the Houston airport Holiday Inn

Did Pushkin paint the poker-playing pups
Or carve tetrameters while in his cups?
That green baize poker table, a samovar
And the Big Giant Head, who needs an ace

We can have our Pushkin, all thinky and sad
And too those kitschy dogs, being real bad!

We can have our Pushkin, all thinky and sad
And our poker-playing pups, cheating at cards
Ruslan and Ludmylla dancing on ice
At the Houston Airport Holiday Inn

Did Pushkin paint the poker-playing pups
Or carve tetrameters while in his cups?
That green baize poker table, a samovar
And the Big Giant Head, who needs an ace

We can have our Pushkin, all thinky and sad
And too those kitschy dogs, being real bad!

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


                                Alexander the Coppersmith

                                             2 Timothy 4:14

We don’t know much about the coppersmith
(Indeed, we don’t know much about each other)
The works of an artist’s hands may serve the Lord
Or else they serve Ephesian vanities            

If a man is going to mold metals into idols
Diana of Ephesus might be pleasing aesthetically
But better to dismiss Diana and other trumperies
And joy in the gold of the Servant’s words

For power and jewels and golden toilet bowls
Are baubles that blind our eyes and darken our souls

(But still, I hope Alexander made things right)

Alexandria in a Seabag

The barracks is a university
So too the march, the camp, the line for chow
McKuen shares our ham and lima beans
John Steinbeck helps with cleaning guns and gear

(You’re not supposed to call your rifle a gun)

The Muses Nine are usually given a miss
But not Max Brand or Herman Wouk
Cowboys and hobbits and hippie poets
And a suspicious Russian or two

Tattered paperbacks jammed in our pockets:
All the world is our university

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                 Algebra is not in the Bible

Jesus never said unto us, “Solve for X”
If algebra were real, the apostolic succession
Of bishops would have told us about it
(After 2,000 years of committee meetings)

I miss Bob Newhart

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                     Algorithm, Algorithm, Algorithm, Bah, Bah, Bah

Parroting a trendy word is not art
So let’s stop babbling about “algorithm”
Lest we drop our readers into the lowest part
Of their 24-hour circadian rhythm

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                           A Librarian is Your Fairy Godmother

                                             For Miss Kelly,
                                    Who Captured the Castle

A librarian is your fairy godmother
Who blesses her children with the gift of books
Her magic wand is a date-due stamp
Which just for you she will then ignore

She lives with brave Cassie in Mississippi
And in the greenwood with bold Robin Hood
On Wildcat Island, in Narnia and Middle-Earth -
She sails you there on bean-bag pirate ships

And if you’re nice to others (so please don’t tickle)
There might be a gift of watermelon pickle!

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                     A Licensed General Contractor Who Loves Jesus

Oh, man, hey, I’m sorry I missed your call
I was busy personal problems next week
For sure “the mailbox is full” I have to go to Houston
To pick up those flooring samples I just love Jesus

Was that last week I’m sorry I had to make sure this other job
Was going okay you didn’t get my call
I’m sure I’m called I’m sorry about that hey
I gotta take this other call just hang on a moment

Hey man I haven’t forgot about you yeah
I’ll be there first thing tomorrow you can bet on it

Alienation is the constant theme
A child for whom the family dinner table
Is the scene of nightly interrogations
Can never be at home outside himself

Alienation is the constant theme
When every word is dissected by others
For any taint of beauty, love, or truth
And any deviation from today

Alienation is the constant theme
When trust is but a morning-broken dream

Aliens Foreign and Domestic

A little Ford bearing on its bumper
A made-in-China South Vietnamese flag
Tailgated by a menacing larger Ford
Which passes, bearing on its bumper
A made-in-China Confederate flag
And then another Ford with an image of
Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe
On U.S. 96 near the Wal-Mart -
There must be something in all that
    But what?