I seem to have missed the lesson,
or maybe it was a paid seminar,
where being a ******* to folk not like you
is seen as cool

A staggering self-belief, or indoctrination
into a way of thinking that excludes
the workers, powerhouses, batteries,
seems insane in a way
that only limited lineages
seem genetically capable of

But now I’m stooping, so I’ll stop

Let’s all stop
being in thrall to noisy *******,
rugger-buggers who had charmed and broken youths,
who knew no hunger except in minds
and no kindness except paid for

I would feel pity, but these bred monsters
are parasitic,
so to let them survive,
******* and spouting lies,
kills us all in the end.

Britannia rules these waves

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                                    Ice in February

There is the fireplace, warm with summer oak
But you are not here to share it with me
There is the coffee *** – or I could brew tea
But you are not here to share it with me

.                 Solace in Soliloquy

        Today’s depression has taken
        me into a trough, a concave of
     stalagmites, a damp dark dungeon.
     But for the insulated cotton wool sky
   I would scream so loud as quarantined
thunder behind designated pales of silence.

hold my hand
so your thumb
can tap that beat
on my wrist
the one my heart
decided to keep

(a firefly poem)

Love isn’t easy to find, it’s ​well-camouflaged.

of not seeing him
going over every word he said
fitful nights in bed
of living in a pea soup fog
sitting like a bump on a log
of rocky road ice cream
weeping till I scream
quaffing down ***** martinis
burning teddys and bikinis
going to bed by eight
gaining extra weight
cutting the pictures of us
the furniture builds up with dust
talking to myself
not leaving the house

Every day is another day
of months passing by
going with friends for Thai
not making excuses for him
not hanging by the phone
or checking emails or texts

Every day is another day
for having self-respect

Suddenly the singer is unmasked,
And in the end, it's all clear:
It was always about where the bread was buttered!

Then it hits you!
You are in need of a shovel
Because this stuff has gotten too deep.

I work at a
gym that is 
popular all over
the country, because
of its family values, and
sliding fee scale.
I am a custodial artist.
It's mindless and gives
me time to write.
I get a free membership.

Men walk around the
locker room ****, and
try to have full conversations
with me.
I want to say,
put your **** away,
it doesn't talk.
This is a gym,
not a nudist colony.
I take no delight in
seeing your shriveled *****.


Where is your modesty,
your decency?
Wrap yourself in a
towel before you try
chatting me up about
the weather.
I'm trying to work out,
and then get the **** away
from you screwballs.