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Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                 The Bishop Speaks of Lent as Basic Training

“Rise and shine and greet the new day, * *s!”
“Roll your socks to look like little ps!”
“Byda leff, byda leff, byda leff right leff…!”
“Shoulder-fired, gas-operated, semi-automatic…!”

“My gramma was slow but she was old!”
“SIR! I am a cockroach, SIR! Cockroach, SIR!”
“Don’t let your piece fall to the
-* deck!”
“Get up! You ain’t got permission to faint today!”

“You call this clean!? My
’s cleaner than that!”
“You don’t *
until I tell you to *!”
“Step over that *
son-of-a-*;
I didn’t give no one permission to die!”

And the ancient liturgical El chant:

“This is my rifle; this is my gun!
This is for fighting; this is for fun!”

His Grace speaks of Lent as recruit training -
Maybe, with a nice white wine and the dover sole
If not the soul,
He thought that up in his first-class from Rome
I say we need to nuke all military metaphors and similes! (irony, eh)

The formatting has removed many of the asterisks I employed as substitutes for foul language, has italicized lines that are not in the poem as written or entered, and has flung in some bold print that, again, is not as written.

As Admiral *** says in UP THE DOWN STAIRCASE, "Let it be a challenge to you."
Lawrence Hall Aug 2019
The Church and the Pub:



                                                I.

     ­            No One was Before the Blessed Sacrament
      Between the Hours of 8:00-9:20, 10:20-11:45, & 1:10-1:50

                                 -the parish bulletin

And yet we are always before something:
A pint of beer, a tv football match
A darts game where the plastic feathers fly
Miss Swivelly-Hips in her *****-boots

But still, the small red lamp alone in the dark
Shines on for us, for Miss Swivelly too
Throughout the careless hours when we neglect
Duty for the fellowship of the pub

“No one was before the Blessed Sacrament…”
And yet we are always before something

                                                  II.
­
            “No One was Here for the Weekly Darts Tournament”

                           -the old geezer in the corner

And yet there is much to be said for the pub:
A pint of beer, a tv football match
A darts game where the plastic feathers fly
Miss Swivelly-Hips – but we have mentioned her

That fluorescent beer ad’s a kind of red
The old geezer’s cheeks shine, especially when
Miss Swivelley-Hips flirts him for a beer
There is an honest joy in fellowship

“No one was here for the darts tournament”
(Maybe they were before the Sacrament?)
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                     The Blues and the Blahs

“Ennui” sounds like a urinary tract infection
“Torpidity” something to do with one’s bowels
“Anomie” might be a boring friend
“Lassitude” a cowboy who has lost his rope

“Insipidity” the noise of slurping one’s soup
“Angst” a degenerative heart disease
“Weltschmerz” Sergeant Schultz’ least favorite beer
“Misanthropy” a cute but cranky girl

I don’t how many of these I have got
But I have got ‘em - and wish that I did not!
Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                              The Boy in White

He paused in the sun, unsure where to go
His uniform was new and neatly pressed
He carried a new blue mattress and two plastic bags
Containing his prison issue for the next three years

No guards were near so I talked with him
I didn’t ask him; he wanted to be heard
He told me his story; it might be true
And then
Authority told me to move on. I wished him well

He was paused in life, unsure what to do
A frightened teenager in new prison whites
Prison
Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                               The Boy in White

He paused in the sun, unsure where to go
His uniform was new and neatly pressed
He carried a new blue mattress and two plastic bags
Containing his prison issue for the next three years

No guards were near so I talked with him
I didn’t ask him; he wanted to be heard
He told me his story; it might be true
And then
Authority told me to move on. I wished him well

He was paused in life, unsure what to do
A frightened teenager in new prison whites
Lawrence Hall Mar 25
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

       (Written several days before the events of 24-25 March 2025)

                                The Brass-Elevator Mountaineer


                                        A weak imitation of

                                         Osip Mandelstam

                      Of whom let us pray, “Memory eternal”


Our lives no longer sense truth around them
In our ewails we are afraid of each other’s words

But whenever there’s an eye-rolled whisper
It’s about the brass-elevator mountaineer

The ten tiny worms of his fingers
His words like mountains of loot

The waving tendrils atop his head
The glitter of his shiny Tesla

Wheels stained with a **** of groveling bosses
He toys with the tributes of his house pets:

One clenches his fisties
Another salutes
A third pledges eternal loyalty

He pokes out his fingers and grabs ‘em by their _

He magic-markers mass deportations:
Three hundred or more for El Salvador
A hundred or so for Guantanamo
Uncounted hundreds to disappear
From routine check-ins here

“Your search has returned zero (0) matching records”

He rolls the possibilities of _ ___ on his tongue like diet sodas
He wishes he could deport his former best friends forever
On some devices "****" in line 9 is rendered by the AI as ****. I don't know why.
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  The Bright Green Wheelie-Bin

                            (Much Superior to a Red Wheelbarrow)

The wheelie-bin is pretty in its own rustic way
Thick plastic moulded in ecological green
To be rumbly-dragged on garbage day
To the end of lane to grace our suburban scene

Very little depends upon the wheelie-bin:
Unpleasant household garbage on its rounds
The really useful stuff has been well dug in
The loam – potato peels and coffee grounds

But note ye well - this garden plot thickens
For we have sparrows and crows
                                                           ­                   but no white chickens
Cf. William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."
Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                            The British Army Pocket Knife

A great big chunk of folded Sheffield steel
For pocket, backpack, toolbox, or workbench
Rope work, leather work, awning work, rifle repair
Gutting a rabbit for dinner if it comes to that

No plastic-y Swiss gimcrackery for us
One tightens the blade by taking a hammer to the rivets
And sharpens it hastily on a handy rock
Wash off the mud and the blood and it’s good to go

It’s clanky, clunky, and out of date – it’s British
As British as can be - and so are we




I’m not British, but I needed a voice. My Hall ancestors were transported from Northern England to the New World for being bad, and the same for my deBeauville / Beauville / Beville / Bevil ancestors from Chesterton and my McQueen ancestors from Scotland.

I love my nifty British Army knife.

I will never eat rabbit again. Ich.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                           The Bronze Serpent

Moses established a serpent within the camp
A fiery brazen serpent upon a pole
And all who looked upon it were thereby cured
Cured of their judgments slithering through the dust
Lawrence Hall May 2017
The Buddhas of Bamiyon

What secular new gods will be carved out
Of cultures and of stone, and heaved up to
The pedestals of corrasable truth
To be adored or else ignored in turn?

Make velcro now the test of reality
And transience transcendence in pale mists
As Plato’s shadows flickering in the cave
Denied in turn by fresh eternal truths

And in a century, when new gods frown
What creakery old gods will be thrown down?
Lawrence Hall Jul 2017
The Canals on Mars

From an allusion by Robert Royal1

Martians spent centuries building canals
Across great continents to irrigate
Their fields, and on barges of marvelous design
Voyage across their picturesque red lands

They watch us through wonderful telescopes
And send out ships whose missions seem to be
To crash into Earth’s deserts with little green men –
Alas that none of this was ever true!

There are no canals, only an optic blur:
We will miss those Martians who never were


1Robert Royal: “Are Americans from Mars?” The Catholic Thing, 17 July 2017.
Robert A. Heinlein’s boys’ books were part of my childhood. I am sorry that I will never meet a Martian.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2021
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            The Carrier Picked Up the Package

The carrier picked up the package, this says
Whoever the poor carrier might be
This Sunday morning, at work before dawn
While I sit with a coffee and read the note

The world of packages is dark out there
Tired loaders and drivers hope for coffee too
It the schedules and supervisors permit
But otherwise, the bosses send them out

I am up early because I cannot sleep
Workers are up early - they have little choice
We have become a cargo cult.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2018
“See all those workers digging through that hill?”
The carter asked, there pointing with his whip
While two mismatched old horses lumbered on
Jerking carter and prisoners along the ruts.

An empty church, its now skeletal dome
Open to the dusk, lay somewhat in the way
Of where the rails would lay, just there among
Stray stalks of wheat, from lost and windblown seeds.

One prisoner yawning through his sorrows said
“I wonder why the Czar didn’t send me there
To carve with pick and shovel and barrow and hod
His new technology across the steppes.”

“Too close to Petersburg, and Moscow too,
My lad.  The Czar wants you to labor far,
Far off.  No mischief from you and your books,
Your poems, your nasty little magazines.”

“Oh, carter, is Pushkin unknown to you?
Turgenev, Gogol, Dostoyevsky too?
What stories do you tell your children, then?
Do you teach them to love their Russian letters?”

The carter laughed; he lit his pipe and said
“You intellectuals!  Living in the past!
Education for the 19th century -
That’s what our children need, not your old books.”

“Someday,” the carter mused, “railways everywhere,
And steel will take you where you will be sent.
Electric light will make midday of night
And Russia’s soul will be great big machines!”

“Machines, and louder guns, and better clocks -
All these will make for better men, you’ll see.
You young fellows will live to see it; I won’t,
But what a happy land your Russia will be!”

And the cart rattled on, the horses tired,
Longing for the day’s end, and hay, and rest;
The prisoners made old jokes in laughing rhymes,
Begged ‘baccy from the carter, and wondered.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2022
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

                                     The Cataracts of the Nile

Obscure and opaque
But surely there are in Egypt
Ophthalmologists
Yes, I've done better. We've ALL done better.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2022
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

           The Cat as an Argument Against the Concept of Evolution

On the sixth day God made the animals
The cat generally disapproved of the others
And in a superior fashion licked its paws
In the springtime shade of the very first oak

The very first cat looked upon the very first bird

And ate it

                    And the cat said that the bird was good
Chewy in musculature and crunchy in bone

Then when the Creator rebuked the cat
The cat ignored Him
And in a superior fashion licked its paws
Lawrence Hall Sep 2021
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                The Back Yard Museum of Art

Children are the truest arbiters of art
Finding beauty in the unlikeliest things:
A bottle cap, a rusted auto part
Metal washers, broken glass, cigar rings

A discarded knife with a broken blade
One dime-store earring with one rhinestone
A greenish bit of plastic – can it be jade?
And a real-life, genuine dinosaur bone!

Art nicely displayed along the fence row -
Adults think it just junk, but what do they know?
Art, like poetry, is where you find it.
Lawrence Hall Feb 23
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                      The Church Garage Sale

                  (Although the garage sale is in the parish hall
                                   because there is no garage)


A garage sale is a rebuke to us all -
The metaphysical finger having writ
Turns now from that lost Babylonian wall
And points as if to scribe in us this bit:

Why did you buy these masses of junk at all?
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Marketing Strategies of the Nazgul

An email arrived from a dear, dear friend
I was so glad to hear from him…until
Unhappy remembrance – he’s dead and still
And my stitches were torn open again

Some Nazgul program had encountered his name
And mine, and smashed them together to see
If some foul poison could be sold to me
Through a counterfeit, the cruelest game

But in faith my friend lives, as we have read -
It is the Nazgul who are truly dead
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com


                  The Cliché is to Say That We Didn’t See It Coming

A happy child, cuddling one of her pets -
That’s the picture they used for her obituary

We didn’t see it coming
"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and make perpetual Light to shine upon her."
Lawrence Hall Oct 2018
The cold is more poetic than the warm
A man coat-huddled against December’s winds
Evokes more sympathy in those dark days
Of stinging sleet and menacing blue clouds

The warm is less poetic than the cold
A man hat-shielded against September’s sun
Evokes no sympathy in those bright days
Of dripping sweat and dripping-too sun screen

And though McKuen sang “Listen to the warm”
There’s music in the cold while icicles form
Your grandmother and I are the only two people who will admit that they still love Rod McKuen.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
I can’t remember my color, can you?
One side is the bad side; the other is good -
Am I a red, or am I then a blue?
What’s the true color for my neighborhood?

It’s all confusing for this old fellow
They tell me I’m white, but I’m somewhat pink
(When I had the jaundice I was rather yellow)
What color is good – oh, what do you think?

Identification with color – says who?
I think I’ll just stick with the red, white, and blue
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Lawrence Hall Apr 28
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                   The Compensatory Manosphere

                                  For our cabinet-room commandos

They are loud with their manly talk of war
Scripted by John Wayne, chopped-salad cliches
Rat-tat-tatting like studio machine guns
On the Flanders’ fields of grade-school recess

They never heaved a buddy’s chopped remains
Into a dust-off barely touching the ground
Rotors screaming, wounded screaming, blood
Instead, they polish their torpedoes and CVs

“Signal ‘Charge!’”

Is their computer keyboard battle cry
Their wives listening in as young soldiers die
Lawrence Hall Mar 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                                  Gaslighting

Am I being gaslighted?
Or am I being gas lit?
Whichever way the verb might be
The gaslighter is full of (it)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                           The Confusions of Being Human

                    To live life to the end is not a childish task

               -Pasternak, “Hamlet” (one of the Zhivago poems)

What do you do when you find yourself standing
Or maybe sitting, or kicked back with a cigarette
Among the smoking wreckage of institutions
The institutions that framed our actions and thoughts

Existentialism is inadequate
After all, we did not create ourselves
Each of us is an outward-looking I
A dependent center of reactions

But the unities upon which we depended
Have failed and collapsed upon themselves
Leaving us alone and stunned on an ashen plain
Alone and stunned and sorting out the pieces

And we can only sort them, not create them
For we are not God
                                               This is all a mystery
Lawrence Hall Sep 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                     The Cosmic Inertia of a Six-Pound Dachshund

Why is the resistance factor
In shifting a six-pound dachshund
Who does not want to be shifted
Greater than that of tons of iron?
Dachshund
Lawrence Hall Oct 2022
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               The Crescent Moon over Marseille

Let us now employ those cliched old rhymes:

Moon
Spoon
June

To ask if over Marseille there ever sails
A waxing or waning croissant moon!
A historical footnote of little significance: In late 1945 my father, Sergeant Hebo Ogden Hall of the 602nd Tank Destroyer Battalion, was posted along with other American soldiers to assist the city police in patrolling Marseille. His armored car was the "Razzle Dazzle" and had a picture of a naked lady painted on the side until an officer ordered her covered up. His war included Fort Leonard Wood, harvesting wheat in North Dakota, New Jersey, to Scotland on the British ship GOUCHER VICTORY, London, Normandy (the second day), France, Belgium (Battle of the Bulge), one of the first Americans into Ohrdruf, a sub-camp of Dachau, Munich, Zwickau, and a circuitous route home. There he was pretty much forgotten by a thoughtless nation.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2021
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
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!
Or, worse, "On, The Places You'll Go."
Lawrence Hall Jul 20
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                       The Crown of Rachel


                        From an idea inspired by Nat Lipstadt
                           while we discussing something else


A dream about our teacher Akiva of Yavna
When the Romans took a respite from murdering us:
In our youth we approached a little house
Though we were tired from following the goats all day

Akiva was tired from tending his beans
And from Jacob-wrestling with great ideas
But he smiled and asked what he could do
Do for us little children bubbling with questions

“I am inventing the synagogue,” he might have said
“What is a synagogue? A new kind of Temple?”
“It is a machine for learning, a temple of the mind
A school, an altar upon we sacrifice our ignorance”

“But the Romans won’t let us sacrifice anything”
“Sometimes” said Akiva wryly, “they sacrifice us
But in the synagogue we will have a little light
Light and Torah and learning, always learning”

“We want to learn.”

“Oh? And what do you want to learn?” he asked of us

“We want to learn.”

He smiled and sat us at a table under his vines
“I learned to read when I was forty,” he said
As he took out a tablet and a stylus
One of us said, “I can’t imagine being that old!”

Our teacher smiled, smoothed the day from the wax
And instructed us to attend to the Word
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”
That is what he said, not what he wrote in the wax

Akiva prayed, he prayed for us, and wrote,
And in the wax the letters formed as fire
As gold and fire:

                                         “Bereshit Bara Elohim…
Lawrence Hall Jul 20
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                        The Crown of Rachel


                        From an idea inspired by Nat Lipstadt
                          while we discussing something else


A dream about our teacher Akiva of Yavna
When the Romans took a respite from murdering us:
In our youth we approached a little house
Though we were tired from following the goats all day

Akiva was tired from tending his beans
And from Jacob-wrestling with great ideas
But he smiled and asked what he could do
Do for us little children bubbling with questions

“I am inventing the synagogue,” he might have said
“What is a synagogue? A new kind of Temple?”
“It is a machine for learning, a temple of the mind
A school, an altar upon we sacrifice our ignorance”

“But the Romans won’t let us sacrifice anything”
“Sometimes” said Akiva wryly, “they sacrifice us
But in the synagogue we will have a little light
Light and Torah and learning, always learning”

“We want to learn.”

“Oh? And what do you want to learn?” he asked of us

“We want to learn.”

He smiled and sat us at a table under his vines
“I learned to read when I was forty,” he said
As he took out a tablet and a stylus
One of us said, “I can’t imagine being that old!”

Our teacher smiled, smoothed the day from the wax
And instructed us to attend to the Word
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”
That is what he said, not what he wrote in the wax

Akiva prayed, he prayed for us, and wrote
And in the wax the letters formed as fire
As gold and fire:

                                    “Bereshit Bara Elohim…
Rabbi Akiva, Jabna / Javna, synagogue, ancient Israel, Torah, Bereshit bara Elohim
Lawrence Hall Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
https://poeticdrivel.blogspot.com/

                          The Cruise of HMS Disreputable

                                                                        For myself,
                    I knew as soon as I could read and write
                   That I must be a poet.

                                        -Sir John Betjeman

I left Mesquite and broken promises
In the after-market rear-view mirror
Bolted to the wing of my third-hand MG
And rattled along that magic road to the west

Sleeping bag, Olivetti portable
Dostoyevsky, Yevtushenko, some clothes
An honorable discharge from a dishonorable war
A few undistinguished undergraduate credits

And now…

I have left behind my Nobel acceptance speech
Because the journey will have to be enough
Lawrence Hall Nov 2017
The Cruise of Your Sun

To say goodbye to good old Sol as he
Slips west beyond the trees and sails away
Is not an errant childhood sentiment,
For his appointed tasks are dutiful

Pacing the planet like a sailor on watch,
Seeing to the safety of every space.
His battle-lantern can be seen aloft
From California to those lonely isles

Where pirates’ bones lie mouldering on the beach,
And then to far Nippon and old Cathay
To watch obscure philosophers brush verse.
A course steered west above the Hindu Kush

He notes that India is still in place.
The solar voyage continues at best speed
Above the desolate plain where now-ruined Troy
Once stood defiantly against the Greeks

For the allure of glory transient.
A meander above the Meander
Soon leads to noble, marbled Italy
Where art and wine and Latium’s dark-eyed arts

Beguile the world with visions of the eternal.
The Mediterranean beneath his keel,
Sol courses the Pillars of Hercules
And singing, soars above the Atlantic

The cold, austere Atlantic, deep blue tomb
Of shadowy civilizations ancient
Before Atlantis was born, when the Nile
Flowed as a shaded brook ‘neath forests green

The sun soars west, to where he’s happiest,
And that is wherever you happen to be;
And when at dawn he sails back home again,
He brings you a present - light from a star.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2021
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                  The Culture Wars We’ve Been Hearing About

Corporal Keats flung himself into the trench
“It’s no good,” he gasped, lighting a cigarette
“The Free Versifiers have ta’en our outposts
We spiked our sonnets but our blank verse is lost”

“And there’s an end on’t,” cried Corporal Johnson
“You will hear thunder,” sighed Corporal Ahkmatova
“Maybe we took the wrong road,” said Corporal Frost
“Where is Yevtushenko?” asked Corporal Tsvetaeva

“Back in Moscow, awarding himself the George Cross
And promoting himself to field marshal”
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2022
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                         The Curious Events of 29-30 July 2022

At the gas station I bought a Chinese rocket
And worried that a lottery might fall from the sky
I tucked away the ticket into my pocket
Or tucked my pocket into my ticket – but why?

If mega-millions came crashing down to earth
The date-stamped rocket would serve no need or whim
Exploding numbers would displace the mirth
As Macbeth’s lady wife once said to him

At the gas station I bought the American dream
Which hissed into the sea – and that’s my theme
When single-malt speaks...
Lawrence Hall Mar 10
Lawrence Hall
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Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                             The Curse - of the – Dramatic - Dash

The dash for – dramatic pause – infests
Almost every – essay – these days
Such errant usages - have become pests
And thoughtful writers - might want to mend - their ways

A clear English sentence  - is tight - and terse
A model of - artistic - clarity
But all those pointless - dashes - make the wording worse
Compromising its - structural - harmony

If in re-writing you find – you’ve placed a dash
Just rip that sucker - out – and toss it in –
                   the trash!
Along with "jaw-dropping" and "iconic" as filler words. One of my whims is counting the number of times "iconic" is used during the NBC evening news.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2021
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               The Curse of Windows 11

                          Vista®© Risen from the Grave?

Tonight I installed Windows 11
Which scattered my folders and apps to H///
I quickly recovered Windows 10 (not much rhymes with eleven)
Which, as we know, works perfectly well
Lawrence Hall Jul 2022
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              The Dachshund and the ‘Possum

I let the dog out for her night patrol
To sniff the boundaries and take a stroll

But out in the dark, beyond the cat
That was where an old ‘possum was at

The dachshund stiffened; she was filled with rage
She charged the enemy; she snarled, “ENGAGE!”

I commanded the dachshund to let it go
With bark and bite and snap her answer was “no”

The fierce dachshund growled; the old ‘possum hissed
I grabbed for the dog but obviously missed

I went back inside to take a shower
Thinking to give the stupid dog an hour

And so it passed; her allotted time is up
The standoff continues ‘tween ‘possum and pup

At dawn it may be that one is dead –
I’ll find out then; for now I’m off to bed!
Lawrence Hall Jul 2018
from an idea by Sheila Sharpe

In the foul heat and damp and rot and stench
After dusting off 1 the bodies of dead pals
The living and the dead, the living dead
Old Boats 2 lit off a cigarette and growled

“They say this stuff’ll **** ya.”



1 Dustoff – noun.  Dust off – verb with an adverb.  A dustoff is a medical evacuation via helicopter, as in “Doc, your dustoff will be here in three.”  To dust off a patient, then, is to transport a patient, not to tidy him.  I have recently read detailed arguments about the terms dustoff, dust off, and medevac, but no one quibbled about such minutiae along the Cambodian border.  

2 Boats – a boatswain’s mate, the brains and muscle of the Navy.  Boatswain’s mates do it all and are seldom acknowledged in history or art, not even in the recent film about Dunkirk.  A boatswain’s mate is often addressed as Boats, and always with deference, even by the C.O.
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2022
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                   The Day Internet Explorer Died

Our gadgets from the store, all shiny and new
The subjects of our brags and anecdotes
Are soon held together with Scotch tape and glue
And covered with coffee stains and sticky-notes

Codings and software must also decay
Metaphorical patches fall apart
They too enjoy only a limited day
Thus the limits of electronic art

To our own end, yes, we eventually toddle -
To be replaced by the latest model!
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
The Death of a Good and Faithful Spider

A good and faithful spider lived its life
In spinning and dusting and catching pests
In the ikon corner among the saints:
Kyril and Methodius, Seraphim

Tikhon the Wonderworker, Vladimir
Anna of Kashin, Nicholas the Czar
Zosima, Xenia of Saint Petersburg
And all the cloud of holy Slavic witness

Whose images were guarded worthily
By a little spider who served God well
Lawrence Hall Sep 2021
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                             The Death of Our Old Hippie Truck Driver

                                      For Brian, of Happy Memory

                     For every star that falls to earth a new one glows.
                     For every dream that fades away a new one grows.

                                                 -Rod McKuen

Suddenly there was cancer eating away
At what was left of his star and his dreams
That second star to the right was suddenly closer
And we can’t know what that far shore is like

But he had often seen the rainbow’s end
Shining across the windshield of his rig
Over his mountains and his magic lands
Interstates according to Peter Max

For years he rolled to the beat of ‘68 -
No more runs, now; his logbook’s up to date
Brian, now forever young, may you be blessed with a clear road forever.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2017
The Death Penalty and a New Computer Printer

If we consider our culture to be
An ongoing affirmation of life
Consistently in favor of redemption
We cannot then presume to **** a man

A death penalty for any one of us
Is a death penalty for all of us
A submission to the darkness of evil
A yielding again to original sin

From execution, then, may God preserve us –
(Except for
That 1-800 wretch in customer service)
Lawrence Hall Dec 2022
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

                          The Decline of the British Empire

Whatever happens
We have got
Shakespeare and Milton
And they have not

But this is what
They have got:
A strong economy
And we have not

(Based on a bit of 19th century triumphalist doggerel, attributed to Hilaire Belloc and others, about the Maxim gun. And let The People shout, “Decolonize these lines!”)
Lawrence Hall Dec 2017
The Desperate Princewives in Toronto

On Christmas eve a lineman hoists herself
Far up into the blowing ice to mend
The power that keeps our children warm at night
While waiting for good Santa Claus to come

On Christmas Day a cop patrols the streets
Alone against snipers with ‘47s
Keeping us safe while we grumble about cops
She’s left her children with her mom to watch

The morning after Christmas another mom
Jump-starts her ten-year-old car so she can drive
The slushy streets to her shift at Dairy Queen
For her career ladder at the deep fryer

In a studio in Canada two men
Well-guarded by their secret services
Well-fed, well-dressed well-chauffeured in their ‘zines
Escorted, piloted, guided, scripted

Express their happiness that working folk
Are wealthier and healthier than ever
Lawrence Hall Feb 26
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                    The Destruct Sequence Has Been Activated


                   Upon the occasion of suddenly feeling old  
                   while sitting comfortably in a lawn chair
                   on a rare warm afternoon in February


The destruct sequence has been activated:
The photon torpedoes have all been fired
The memory software is badly outdated
The phaser comm panel cannot be re-wired

The main drive has stopped; the batteries are failing
The passageways are blocked with fallen debris
The controls on the bridge are uselessly flailing
The ship is listing slowly, degree by degree

Everything aboard ship is antiquated –
The destruct sequence has been activated
Life is good. Life is better with a dachshund and a cup of coffee.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                  The Dime-Store Philosophy of Kahlil Gibran

            How The Prophet Made Kahlil Gibran a Household Name in
            America ‹ Literary Hub (lithub.com)

The dime-store philosophy of Kahlil Gibran
                    (“Daddy, what’s a dime-store? And what’s a dime?”)
Reposing mostly undisturbed on brick-and-board shelves
The free-verse love-salad of Rod McKuen
And Lord of the Rings in 50-cent paperbacks

The Seekers played over and over on the phonograph
                     (“Daddy, what’s a phonograph? Is it something bad?”)
Have you heard The Mamas and the Papas’ latest single?
Peter, Paul & Mary in “stacks of wax”
Three-chord commandos in every coffee shop

Looking back - it wasn’t the greatest stuff
But for the time and place, it was good enough
Lawrence Hall Mar 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                 The Discount-Store Patriot and the Bible Salesman

Two greedy old men a-shakin’ their Jesus cup -
No, son, for that I ain’t a-standin’ up
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                             The Disinterment of Neruda

      Qui sine peccato est vestrum, primus in aliam lapidem mittat

This Neruda - the Fascists murdered him
This Neruda - let us ****** him again
The people read and love his poems too much
And they ignore ours – let us dig him up

This Neruda – we will dig him up
And subject him to our Inquisition
We now will tell you what each fragment means
Each fragment of each word, his flesh, his bone

We have our bullhorns and our three-beat chants
His poems will mean what we tell you they mean

Shut up
Lawrence Hall Jun 2017
The Dog Not Taken

Two roads diverged on a paper ballot
Rejecting both, I voted for my dog
Lawrence Hall Jul 2019
Since Mickey’s hands are now at two ‘til twelve
Let’s pour our poor doomed selves another glass
We’ll have only our ashes then to shelve
When that great big explosion comes to pass

And as that big bang bangs I’ll kiss my kvass
Goodbye. My watch needs charging anyway
The Gotterdammerung should give it some gas
To tell the time on that Wagnerian new day

Oh! Mickey’s hands are now at that midnight -
Farewell, dear friends; it’s been a wild delight!



(What? Are you still here…?)
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2024
Lawrence Hall HSG
[email protected]

      The Doorkeeper of Notre Dame and a One-Fingered Greeting

                                “I pray you remember the porter”

                                                -Macbet­h II.iii.22

“‘Tis my limited service” on Sundays to mind the door
To open it to the faithful with cheerful greetings
This is pretty much my skill-level, this modest chore
Such is the ancient custom for Sunday meetings

A family of long acquaintance approached, almost late
They live some miles away and had a long drive
Their youngest son held his hand out at the holy gate
I thought his intent was a youthful high five

But with only one finger he greeted me!
And that was my lesson in humility

As for the boy’s lesson

While the servers rang the welcoming bell
His momma yanked him outside and gave him
                                             (peace)
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