Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                 Submitting a Ballot Blank


                                   “Obey me and be free!”

                          -Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner


Feel free to submit a ballot blank
To ignore all those rotten cabbages in rows
We have only ourselves to thank
That our party leaders are Rolex-rich pharaohs

Feel free to submit a ballot blank
The parties’ incompetent choices need not be ours
Forced upon us through caucuses dark and dank
Let us assert our constitutional powers

When they issue us ballots bearing no real choice
We will return them just as empty  -
          That will be our silent, powerful voice

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                               Substackery

                         (I don’t know what a substack is)

To a man who wrote an essay on classical music:

I can’t tell you that I really enjoy your work
I’d have to pay fifty dollars for the privilege
But if you will pay me only five or so
I will tell you that I really enjoy your work

Suburban Christianity

“I have no window to look into another man’s soul.”
-attributed to St. Thomas More and others

O pray in silence at the foot the Cross
In humility before the Altar of God
The ancient usages honored aright
Befitting the dignity of His Church

And place all hopes and sorrows quietly there
Along with any haloes, skipping the selfies
And the waving moments of look-at-me
He knows, you know, so let the drama go

Suburban Christianity? Well, yes:
Golgotha is a suburb of Heaven

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­                         Subverting Poetic Convention

Given that the convention
Is to subvert convention
Then to subvert convention
Is to follow convention

Or we could craft poetry
With honesty and wit
And as for convention
Give not a thought to it

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                          Such Men Will Someday Live in Palaces

                                         Cf. Saint Matthew 11

                                                       For

                                            El Senor Bueno

                                                The Artist

                                 The Dangerous Intellectual

                                           The Philosopher


I am only a visitor here, unqualified to speak
Of the incessant sufferings of men of God
Who may not go beyond the compassing wire
To see a reed shaken with the wind

For they sometimes are wind-struck reeds themselves
Planted for a time in this desert of penance
But they are men, and do not easily shake -
When the bitter wind blows they stand up straight

They do not raise their fists against the wind
But rather their hearts in manly strength and faith

Such men will someday live in palaces

Mr. Hall Proposes a Toast

Ladies and gentlemen, I propose a toast:
What will you have – wheat? White? Honey or jam?
Sourdough for me, lightly-browned, almost golden
With lots of butter, melted all through the crust

Let the warm scene of our merriment be
A café in winter, beneath a large window
All steamy, with rain or snow outside
And we don’t have to go anywhere

Or do anything but talk over our coffee –
Ladies and gentlemen, I propose a toast

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

                                        Summer on the Lake

Children slosh noisily about on a catamaran
While lovers in the shade sit with crosswords and drinks
Or barefoot stroll along the lakeside sand
Each wondering what the other thinks

Minnows hover in the amber shallows
Dragonflies search among bright waving flowers
Sheltered beneath wind-trembling Chinese tallows
Throughout the drowsy, dreamy summer hours

This is early July, soft winds in the dales -
Which means it’s time for back-to-school sales

The almanac says that the Solstice came
Shortly after the receptionist called my name
At 1056 – and how do they know
Of stars and planets in their dances slow?

We note the transcendent reality
Of our pale transient mortality
And guard our health with good ol’ common sense
I later noted this coincidence:

The transition to summer came to pass
While the doctor had his finger up my ///


(There might be some mystical symbolism in that, but I don’t know what.)

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

              Sunday Morning: A Dead ‘Possum and Broken Glass

After the buzzards pluck the ‘possum’s eyes
Like businessmen at the airport Holiday Inn
Choosing olives for their plates at the buffet
It will still be grinning at the sun

After the beer bottle’s empty promises
And the powderings of broken glass have worn away
Along with the tire-tread promises of ads
A cardboard temptress will still be grinning at drunks

“We moved 84,000 cases this month”
The latest life-partner pukes on the trailer floor

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                               Sunshine is Dogshine

                    Be prepared. A dog is adorable and noble.
                    A dog is a true and loving friend. A dog
                    Is also a hedonist.

                          -Mary Oliver, “The Wicked Smile”

My little dogs pause at the kitchen door
But after tentatively testing the air
Run wild into the sunlit of a rare warm day
Leaping across the long-dead summer grass

They tumble and roll, and loll with their tummies up
For each little sunbeam is a doggie-kiss
To be cherished against the next arctic front
When the sleeting wind rattles the window panes

My little dogs scratch at the kitchen door
Sunshine is dogshine
But now they want a doggie-nosh and a nap

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

                                     ­ The Sunshine Protection Act

Our Senate has passed the Sunshine Protection Act
And if Old Sol is a sentient being
(And most of us rather hope he is)
He will be much surprised to hear of it

We didn’t know the sun needed protecting:
He rises every day and gives us his best
His brightest “good morning” slanting across
Our happy dreams as they become our hopes

Some tell us that our star is a minor sun
But we’ve never met a finer one!

I re-post this most every year on Super Servile Sunday:

                                          Super Servile Sunday

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

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

Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped
While costumed in their masters’ liveries
And feeling little while thinking even less

The very model of the State’s non-men
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded through cosmic cattle chutes
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness.

But you…

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

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

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

Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped,
While costumed in their masters’ liveries,
And feeling little while thinking even less

The very model of the State’s non-men,
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded in cosmic cattle chutes,
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness

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

A re-post from 2021. I have for years avoided watching any part of the Super Bowl because it subsumes individuals into a baying mob. This is un-American. When people surrender their individual selves they lose the capacity to think. This year it is a matter of hordes of people who feel - hardly think - that the game is rigged by the Democratic Party (I repudiate both parties, btw) as part of some bizarre plot to give the autumn election to poor old Mr. Biden. They have also accused a pleasant and apparently apolitical musician of being a part of their demented fantasy. It just won't do.

I apologize for the probably unnecessary exposition.

                                           Super Servile Sunday

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

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

Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped
While costumed in their masters’ liveries
And feeling little while thinking even less

The very model of the State’s non-men
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded through cosmic cattle chutes
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness.

But you…

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

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

                Supervising Elections in an Underdeveloped Nation

It well may be that civilized nations
Will send us soldiers to patrol our rubbled streets
And at each poll post tanks and squads of men
To ensure that our elections are fair

Their soldiers will pat our children on their heads
And give them chocolate bars and chewing gum
While practicing their Americanese from little books:
“Where is please coffee shop thank you we are friends”

And propping up each mayor and governor here
A sturdy German, Pole, or Czech will stand
                                                           (and sneer)

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                                Surgery in Three Parts


                                                 1 - Fear for Tomorrow

I don’t know what will happen to her tomorrow -
The anaesthesia and the surgical trauma
Invading all those organs compromised
Compromised by age and failing health

There’s a contract coffee bar in the lobby main
One could savour a coffee and a croissant
While waiting for a messenger of life or death
Does anyone know where the chapel is?

A marriage should not end in ICU
In the echoing chants of “Code Blue…Code Blue…”

                                          2 - Fear for Today

Morning is filled with possibilities
But today…
Morning is fraught with possibilities

                                           3 – Deo Gratias

The surgeon and the RN visit me
In a cold-as-a-morgue fluorescent-lit room
With their masks loose about their necks
To report that all went well

Swamp the Drain

Now once upon a time there was a drain
A happy little drain that all day drained
Which is the nature of what good drains do
Letting things flow away, off to the sea

One day a blustering bullfrog strutted about
And croaked that the drain was not any good
He said he’d swamp that drain with a huuuuge dam
A beautiful dam – his audience was riveted

And he croaked and he croaked and still he croaked
                                                 ­                all day
But the happy little drain drained his croaks
                                                                ­ away

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

                                       Swastikas over Ottawa

            I am not anti-American. But I am strongly pro-Canadian.

                                          -John Diefenbaker

Dear Canada, your home and native land
Has been an inspiration to the world
Your wise and happy Charter of Rights and Freedoms
Is a blessing you have shared with all

Dear Canada, who has now ordered you
To permit foul banners of obscene hate
To scream obscenities at each other
To desecrate the memorials of your peoples

In sum, Dear Canada –
Why in the hell are some of you acting like Yanks?

Syllabus for a Summer Day

Awaken with the sun, and while thin mist
Slinks eerily across the fields, step out -
Labor across the dewy grass, near ripe
For the second cutting of summer hay

The lesson for today is clearing brush
Along the fence lines of both fields and life
The attendance check is for needed tools:
Old gloves, old boots, old saw, and fresh new verse

Awaken with the sun, honor the day
With work and play to earn a grade of A

                       Alternative Syllabus for a Summer Day

Ignore the stupid sun; go back to sleep
Reject the chatter of the alarming beep
And waken at a reasonable Christian hour –
Oh, ten will do; earlier is so sour!

Then bathrobe-shuffle to the coffee ***
See what is on the news, or maybe not
And scratch and yawn and look around to see
That nothing has changed since last night at three

Ignore all work; just stick it on the shelf
And for my grade, I’ll happily take an F!

There is no darkness to our restless nights
Even the trees are lit by an industrial glow
One’s room is a mystery of little lights
Hovering like fairies putting on a show

Mostly blue, a yellow one here and there
Some reds and greens, as boxes take on power
Our masters’ eyes and spies, colouring the air
While watching, listening, hour after after hour

You wake, you listen - a moving finger writes
There is no darkness to our restless nights

The Bedrooms of Thirty-Year-Old Children

“I am looking for a some what tactical bible cover. I would prefer that it have hook and loop some were on it, so I can put moral patches on it.”

-https://www.ar15.com/forums/general/-/135-1549758/

Each tactical gun and each tactical knife
Made in China by tactical slaves
Tactical gear for tactical strife
(Tactical guys to their tactical graves)

Tactical ****** and tactical pen
Tactical chocolate and paintball paint
Tactical everything for wannabe men
Desperate to be whatever they ain’t

Tactical shelters for when it’s raining –

But

They never made Day One of army training

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 The Season of Back-To-School

                When Americans seize books from their children
    and form charitable committees to give them backpacks instead

A great many people did not say the following:

Once you have read a backpack you care about, some part of it is always with you. – Louis L’Amour

These backpacks gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: you are not alone. -Roald Dahl

Good friends, good backpacks, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. ― Mark Twain

If there's a backpack that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it. ― Toni Morrison

“Classic” - a backpack which people praise and don't read. ― Mark Twain

When I have a little money, I buy backpacks; and if I have any left, I buy food and clothes. ― Erasmus of Rotterdam

I cannot live without backpacks. ― Thomas Jefferson

If you have a garden and a backpack, you have everything you need. ― Cicero

No backpack is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally – and often far more – worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond. ― C.S. Lewis

A backpack, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe. ― Madeleine L'Engle

And on the subject of burning backpacks: I want to congratulate librarians, not famous for their physical strength or their powerful political connections or their great wealth, who, all over this country, have staunchly resisted anti-democratic bullies who have tried to remove certain backpacks from their shelves, and have refused to reveal to thought police the names of persons who have checked out those backpacks.

So the America I loved still exists, if not in the White House or the Supreme Court or the Senate or the House of Representatives or the media. The America I love still exists at the front desks of our public libraries. ― Kurt Vonnegut

Do you ever read any of the backpacks you burn? ― Ray Bradbury

You don’t have to burn backpacks to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them – Ray Bradbury

Knowing I loved my backpacks, he furnish’d me
From mine own library with backpacks that
I prize above my dukedom – Prospero in The Tempest I.ii.166-168

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


           Take Cover! We’re Celebrating Intellectual Achievements!


                         “These papers expired three weeks ago.
                          You’ll have to come with us.”

            -a colonial police officer to a refugee in Casablanca


Graduates meet to celebrate the joys
Of scientific research, music, art
Literature, cinema, theology –
Veritas et scientia for all

On shaded lawns in academic gowns
They exchange Shakespearean bon mots
And toast the future and good fellowship
While forming up for the processional

In fashionable scholarly regalia:
Flak jackets in academic colours

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

                             Take this Meme and Shove It

                                A Dirge in Three Chords

That which makes a lucrative country song
Ain’t nothing but blood on the porch-steps of life:
Handcuffs, weeping children, weeping exes
Beer-puke on the floor of a ’64 Ford

A daughter who found love two trailers over
Because her daddy found love in another town
And her momma’s too ****’ ****** to notice
After losing her job at the Dixie Belle

Trey-Boy calls from somewhere in the Dakotas
Needing money for a bus ticket home

And there ain’t no money
And there ain’t no home

I don’t want to take the pulse of the American people

                                                 Only yours

Tales of the Texas Rangers:
The Legend of Tom Brady’s Shirt

Texas is rich with tales of old
Heroes, villains, San Saba’s gold

Once Aztecs ruled our shores and bays
And Tejas roamed the forest ways

Here in this sunburnt arid land
Comanches bold made their last stand

Karankawas, Apaches too -
All sorts of tales, and mostly true

Nueva Espana, then Mexico
Rebellion and the Alamo

But the strangest tale, we now assert
Is the mystery of Tom Brady’s shirt

Missing it is, after the game
Who is the thief? Who is to blame?

Dan Patrick, the lieutenant-guv
He swore by all the stars above

And most of all by that one Star
That’s flown in every saloon and bar

He’d catch that creep, and make him hurt
Whoever pinched Tom Brady’s shirt

So in this time of ******* danger
He called upon each Texas Ranger

His voice was low, but cold as steel:
“Y’all brang that mangy cur to heel;

Load your weapons, and saddle up!”
Each Ranger answered with a “Yup.”

All Rangers, now, be on alert:
Somebody rustled Tom Brady’s shirt

Every Texan expects your best
(Tom Brady is our honored guest)

He can’t go home in just his jeans
So find his jersey, by any means

Remember - not a blouse or skirt;
You’re looking for the poor man’s shirt

That’s why you Rangers are paid so much -
Search every ****** and hovel and hutch

Somewhere under the Texas skies
An outlaw hides, and probably cries

He shamed his state and he shamed his mama
And the only end to all this drama

Will come upon him like wind and dust
And a voice will command (with great disgust)

“Stand and deliver, you ugly varmint!
Hold up your hands, and drop that garment!”

“Oh, Texas Ranger, tell me true:
How did you find me? I feel so blue!”

And the Ranger will sing softly:

“The shirt of a stranger is upon you…”1

y colorín, colorado y este cuento se ha acabado, y’all

1Apologies to Chuck Norris

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

                                     Talmud Portion for Today

In the Talmud portion for today we read
Of the priestly appointments for stacking wood
And of other liturgical usages
As preparation for the sacrifice

But some must read their portion for the day
By a battle lantern’s flickering light
Deep down in a bunker among the tombs
While rockets fall upon Jerusalem

Thus blood still splashes against the Temple walls
Thus blood still forms the letters of the text

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               Tea: A Ceremony of Civilisation


               "Would you like an adventure, or would you like
               to have your tea first?"

                                                     -Peter Pan


England

Tea! Glorious cups of tea! For you and me!
Tea from the ***, strong and wonderfully hot!
Sandwiches with ham, butter and toast and jam
And before the washing-up, another cup!

China

Tea. Meditative tea, a thoughtful sea
Tea softly, softly brewed, a gentle mood
An invocation lifted, philosophy sifted
A liturgy free of any urgency

South of the 49th parallel

Gimme that jug off the grocery store shelf
I ain’t got no time to brew it myself

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                          Teaching Whose Bible in Public School?

                  A Rebuke to Miz Grundy and Reverend Gantry

Surely a teacher could choose his own Bible
This shouldn’t be as difficult as it seems
It couldn’t possibly be forbidden or liable
To teach the children from the Douay-Rheims

These are not tears of sorrow or joy;
These are tears from allergens, m’boy.




(As Tennyson did not say)

Tears of Saint Lawrence

The tears of Saint Lawrence fall by the hour
Fall from the cosmos as our good saint weeps
Silently for us through those smoky nights
When hope seems but a burning mockery

The tears of Saint Lawrence remind us of
Certain promises made in the long-ago
That all would be well, and rainbows and rain
And refreshing streams are all part of them

The tears of Saint Lawrence fall, gently fall
As if our dreams were being baptized too

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

                                Tea with Just a Hint of Blood

Now comes an infusioning teafluencer
Armed with catalogues of adjectives
Herbaceous hyperbole cloying the page
With promises of transcendental bliss

The holy vessels of the altar shining bright
In glass and steel, accented with bamboo
In rooms green-lit by shaded window light
Unlike my best-remembered cuppa long ago

A beat-up canteen cup of Constant Comment
Along the Cambodian border that unhappy day

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

                       Teenagers Have Always Worn Masks

I was already wearing a mask anyway
Perfecting that James Bond pose in the mirror
Then wearing his cool edginess into home room
Where no one noticed

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

                          Teeth are Curious Constructions

Molars for grinding
Bicuspids behinding
Incisors for wheat
Canines for meat
And for all your teeth
Above or beneath
Keep them neat
For kisses sweet!

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

                                   Ten Knots along a Cord

                       A trewe swinkere and a good was he,
                       Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee

                                 -Chaucer’s Prologue

See the plowman walking home from the fields
He plods along with the pace of centuries
There is no haste, for time hardly exists
Only the seasons, rolling like cosmic tides

And in his hand, ten knots along a cord
To count each Ave as it passes his lips
And through his heart and hopes and gratitude
His soul secure along the links of being

See the plowman dreaming home from the fields
His feet upon the earth, his head among the stars

Praise to Stephania Jiminez of KSAT in San Antonio; I said it first but she says it much, much better:

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/ksat-anchor-goes-viral-for-speaking-the-truth-about-texas-leaders­/ar-AA1Ibdj3


Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
5 July 2025

                     Texas Children Die; Texas Politicians Babble


                           The Governor’s Press Conference
            In Which the Press Were Shut Down Pretty Quickly
                              Guest Star: Ice Station Barbie


I just can’t say enough about our colleagues I just can’t say enough about we are Texans and we come together as one as a family we come together community share quintessential Texas I want to thank my we unite they could have fallen apart double-down relentless when the job is completed 24/ 7 day and night Texans and Americans everyone and I want to thank my what I’m going to sign today every asset magnitude process proclamation immediate and I just can’t say enough about ongoing gratitude in advance to President Trump and all his administration and I just can’t say enough his love for Texas I want to thank Governor Abbott absolutely devastating he loves Texas grieving beautiful children all the resources of the federal government walking alongside each other community I’ve visited with the president already he will honor that assets on the ground crisis weather event alerted airframe Coasties Texas assets request customs and border protection skill set resource Department of Homeland Security response flying acronyms entities utilized FEMA standing at an enhanced level plugged in engaged fulfil role amazing you are an example to the nation hearts are with you and walking beside you fixed-wing aircraft airframe helicopters fixed-wing helicopters efforts engaged talking to the president throughout the day families folks number one priority is people process public infrastructure strong you are an example responding helping neighbors hurting grieving God process help prayers are with you President Trump and Melania are praying for you prayer amazing multiple stage agencies partners my thanks to and to and request and thank you for being here an important message I’ve been to a number of disasters impressed with Governor Abbot’s leadership proud grateful for men and women standing behind us here we are all reacquainted rejoined with their family members it’s who your family is we come together as a family as Texas this is who our family is we owe it to them the governor and his team will be relentless family it means a lot we appreciate President Trump and you before I was crazy enough to run for congress ha ha we came down here to blah blah it hits home personally I can’t say enough about extraordinary I can’t say enough I can’t say enough leadership this unfortunate circumstance reached out responding Army corps support and other stuff teamwork collaboration far from finished the job prayerful stuff we’re dealing with finger-pointing and second-guessing and Monday-morning quarterbacking circumstances I understand that parents and media heroic efforts finish the job be with the people pray I’m the only one at this table who lives on the Guadalupe River I barely got home I ushered in a crew fifty-year lawyer I saw first-hand the body bags helicopter ride nobody saw this coming arm in arm hand in hand process time now for recovery toilsome task we we we I I I me me me stay together and we’ll get this done thank you on the behalf of as I look around the room I don’t see differences I see one team working together our community one team those in peril those who are lost sees this day prayer thank God my heart is broken we will not stop Madame Secretary your federal team lifesaving we will our teams FEMA border patrol partners Coast Guard work forward state personnel one last thing most common word prayer prayers are answered in so many ways prayer might be the reason the water stopped rising prayer does work your prayers have made a difference continued prayers pray so much never imagined prayers matter we thank God almighty God has blessed Texas prayer…

(A few reporters were then allowed to ask a few questions which were answered mostly with vagaries and filler-language.)

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

                    Texas, Our Texas, All Hail the Secret State

            "The Biden administration is not being transparent…”

                                     -Governor Greg Abbot

Governor Abbot so loves his Texas folk
That he orders state troopers to keep them away
He surrounds himself with a security cloak
And with his good ol’ boys, the ones who pay

God forbid that the people who voted for him
Should forget their place, and dare to approach
The corporate hangar guarded against them
And risk his Praetorians’ stern reproach

Even the press is locked out, alone and lonely –

             The government of Texas is for Members Only

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                      Tha­nk God That’s Over

St. Therese of Lisieux is said to have said
After an especially long liturgy
“Thank God that’s over!”
And who am I to argue with a saint?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                             Thanksgiving as a Singleton

Memories of a drive-through just won’t do
Set something on your table, if only for you
A turkey plate from the grocery store
Two side dishes from cans, or maybe more
And gravy even if it’s a store-bought broth
Silverware, real plates, and a tablecloth
Wash your hands, light a candle, say a prayer
And open your napkin with your special flair!

You are where you are meant to be, it’s true
And know that God is with you to see you through

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

                           Thanksgiving Dinner at the Children’s Table

Thanksgiving is Christmas without any toys
And you get stuck at the children’s table
For more years than is strictly necessary
Because some extra old people show up

The uncle who has a diagnosis story
For every course, including the pies and cakes
Another helping of irritable bowel syndrome?
And the auntie who tries to hush him up

The cute second cousin you never met before
She’s your age but gets to sit at the Big Table

(And after her first glance she never looks
at you again)

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


                                    Thanksgiving Dinner
               with Generous Helpings of Biological Functions

Would you please pass the bowel-movement stories
Gosh, this lab-test casserole sure looks great
I love the well-steamed vasectomy glories
And a helping of dentistry on my plate

This year I fried the potassium levels
They taste as yummy as a cancer scare
And here’s heart surgery with our revels
For Christmas I’m getting a new ***** chair

The kids have gone outside, oh what a fuss -
Why don’t they want to have dinner with us?

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

                    Thanksgiving Essentials are out of Stock

                                     -Thus saith the news

A house, a book, a dog, a good warm coat
A job, a ride, a friend, someone to love
A dream, a hope, a plan, coffee with you
A family around the table, something to eat

And gratitude - all the essentials are in stock

Thanksgiving – Places for Everyone

Somehow there are places enough for everyone
A tectonic shifting of tableware
A tsunami of saucers, plates, and bowls
The good Thanksgiving and Christmas settings

A rare bottle of Chateau du Supermarket
Gallons of iced tea, and soda for the kids
So many at the children’s table this year
And who will now sit in Grandfather’s place?

This year he dines at that Table in Paradise
Where there are always places enough for everyone

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

                                   Thanks to the Dim Bulbs

I needed a light bulb from the hardware store
And for a gadget three D-cell batteries
The light bulb was nine dollars (I passed it by)
But bought the batteries for eight dollars each

I think we’re all going to be shopping more now
In the recesses of closets and kitchen shelves
And maybe behind the dryer for an errant sock
And stretching the sell-by dates a week or two

But let us be thankful that we do have light bulbs
And rooms in which to enjoy their glow

“Thank You for Being
Such a Valued Customer”

From the Satellite Provider

And, oh! Have we got a deal for you!
We looted a channel, we’ve raised your rates
We know you’ve paid, but you’re still overdue
We teased you with some weekend movie baits
Which ought to be included anyway
We’re the worst service in history’s annals
We fu(dge) your contract almost every day

And

We want you to buy even more channels!

He said that when he came home from the war
He thoughtfully packed all his uniforms
Into his good ol’ Marine Corps sea bag
Took it out to the back yard
                                               and burned it

3
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That Chinese Spy Balloon - poem
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                             That Chinese Spy Balloon

                       “Number Six is dead. Rover got him.”

                            -Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner

A spy balloon lurks over Montana
And nobody seems to know what to do
Against the intruder Top Guns launch themselves
But only circle around it piteously

They slink away, intimidated by a balloon
That takes its pictures and samples with insolence
Unmenaced by our Merovingian regime
Generals bemedaled like Russian doormen

Our leaders stumble over each other’s gaffes
While in Shanghai the Politburo laughs

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                             That Chinese Spy Balloon

                       “Number Six is dead. Rover got him.”

                            -Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner

A spy balloon lurks over Montana
And nobody seems to know what to do
Against the intruder Top Guns launch themselves
But only circle around it piteously

They slink away, intimidated by a balloon
That takes its pictures and samples with insolence
Unmenaced by our Merovingian regime
Generals bemedaled like Russian doormen

Our leaders stumble over each other’s gaffes
While in Shanghai the Politburo laughs

That clockwork school! If it’s not gearing up
Then it's winding down, except in the fall
Which then is when it’s gearing up again
But not in the spring, when it is winding down

Sometimes it’s just around the corner where
Presumably it is still gearing up
But maybe winding down, somewhere in town
Waiting for the fall to come back around

Then winding down, having worn out its spring
But back in the fall, you see; that’s the thing!

25 May 2021
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                     That ****** Covert Covid Microchip

My vaccination card is all complete
Two jabs for the immunity herd, so I’ve heard
And don’t believe that stuff about the chip
The microchip ratting us to the F.B.I.

No, not the F.B.I., nor the C.I.A.
Nor the jolly folk at the N.S.A. -
My microchip speaks to me in Russian
And I don’t understand Russian, so it’s okay

Thus not a careless word will ever pass my lip
About my ****** covert covid microchip