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Disclaimer: I have no idea if any of what is reported is true; we have no Edward R. Murrow.

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

                       “We’re Here for Nancy Pelosi’s Laptop”

This is Homer, Alaska, Ed Murrow reporting.  Homer, which is no stranger to bad tidings, received news today that that Nancy Pelosi’s laptop is still missing…

                   -as Edward R. Murrow did not say in 1940

Up pops the F.B.I., bashing down the door
Guns drawn, handcuffs out, better hit the dirt
Laptops taken, closets searched, now they want some more -
Maybe Hunter’s pix, or Tom Brady’s shirt

Up pops the F.B.I., warrants locked and loaded
Looking for rightista revolutionaries
With secret maps all Q-Anon coded
Bound in bamboo ballots from Buenos Aires

Up pops the F.B.I., yes, pop, pop, pop:
“We are here for the senator’s laptop!”

“Here in Alaska?”
“I dunno; I’ll ask her!”



Tipsters, social media post led FBI to search Homer woman’s home for links to Capitol riot - Anchorage Daily News (adn.com)

Search warrant reveals why the FBI raided an Alaska couple’s home (msn.com)

Alaska woman says feds searched home for Pelosi's laptop (apnews.com)
I have no idea if any of this is factual; we have no Edward R. Murrow, only conflicting ideological sites pretending to report the news.
 May 2021 ConnectHook
july hearne
hang your flag upside down in distress
wait for worse things to happen
bad things have already happened

look around you,
the red guards are kneeling hard
ching chong, wade across the water all the way to mao zedong
too unrepairable to understand
a stronger hand made strong
by an Almighty hand

and so in the confines of their cluelessness
tomorrow's chew toys are only useful idiots in black masks for now
conditionally loved by the even weaker minded, currently still cheering them on
as their small or fat black masked bodies laughably block the crosswalk of broadway and denny

some are robots running on outdated programming,
built to self destruct,
their particular model will run for president and answer to names like
judas pence or mitt romney

some cry wolf
but we've heard it so many times already
it doesn't mean anything anymore
the unfit mother might not even cash in
on the blown apart remains of her knifey daughter

most others are a sad, feeble kind of gladiator:
the andabatea, often found coding or developing at amazon, with limited or no visibility; always blindfolded and overpaid, always hearded, always hated by the end user,
the bestiarii never prepared to fight the imported beast,
the noxxi never meant to have a chance with their dull swords, always too worthless for opportunity
so many noxxi with their dull and laughable swords
blocking the crosswalk of broadway and denny

that class of gladiator.
"yes that was me with the doves
setting them free near the factory
where they build your computer love"

Neil Young : "Revolution Blues"
There fared a time ‘we’ were the vital thing,
yet now the case is fair it’s ye and her.
My role perhaps was harrower of Winter
while she’s the water, seed and sun of Spring.
God forms right plans and sorts His unique tools
as junctures of our lives wed intertwined,
but when they’re o’er we are not undermined
nor forced to feel we’re slyly played as fools.
For Providence has granted precious gifts
which by His grace we learn and grow and flow’r,
and these need ne’er be lost in parting hour                                              
nor poisoned by the bitterness of rifts.
So rise our wings with richer, brighter hue
to soar upon Christ’s love which tarries true.
~~~~
 May 2021 ConnectHook
Homunculus
Spectacle!
Spectacle!
Spectacle!

Upon thee I feast  
as your willing
receptacle
thou art my bread's yeast!

Fill me with fear and with grief and doubt
Fill me with joy and with hope I may shout
From atop a tall mount of my own dissolution
And lull me to sleep with your grandiose illusion!

Spectacle!
Spectacle!
Spectacle!

DEAR!

Help me make sludge into mead, crystal clear!
Tell me my roles and opinions and thoughts!
Sell me that which makes my deep emptiness naught!
Oh, you our greatest omnipotent seer!

Spectacle!
Spectacle!
Spectacle!

CAUGHT!

See what you've so serendipitously wrought!
See how so boldly and wondrously you've taught!
For without your guidance, what would be bought?
What would be sold lest the gold you have brought?

Spectacle!
Spectacle!
Spectacle!

FRAUGHT!

What would become of mass cultural trends?
When means for themselves would desist and come ends?
How could we possibly live without you
When you are the arbiter of all that's True?
I don't know that this is finished. Also, don't read Debord the day before an election.
 May 2021 ConnectHook
Homunculus
**** if I know.
I scarcely understand much anymore.
I am but a puddle of coherent reminiscences
oozing across the floor into decoherence and
diffusing into maximum entropy.

We are in Hell:
all is Maya,
all is Mara,
all is Dukkha.
Yet, we are slaves
who love our chains.

And I am a lifeless, fetal,
**** economicus,
mortifying de rigeur
in the ossified skull of a
long forgotten **** sapien.

If only those kinship instincts could've
survived the havoc we've wrought.
Look at what we've done.
Look at what we do.

**** for money.
**** for oil.
**** for land.
**** for 'justice.'
**** for God
**** for 'the cause'
**** for the sake of killing,
and pave over what's left.

Leave a few trees and bushes for our
dystopic terrarium.
'Our Synthetic Environment,'
old Murray[1] called it.

Now, walk into the forest.
Be there. Stay there.
Do you feel it?
Any of this nonsense we call
'civilization'?

Or
is it that you feel something more. . .  
poignant?
More true?
To a point where our heated debates
appear as no more than frivolous diatribes?

When do we stop all this narrative solipsism
and get to the ******* point?
None of this is real.
Our thoughts are not our own.
Have they ever been?

The Spectacle [2] reigns supreme
as we idle spectators
speculate idly upon it.

Borges's fable of the cartographers [3]
has reached its apotheosis,
and we are its unwilling
and unwitting victims. . . .
A bit too much wine is the culprit here, I suspect.

1: Murray Bookchin, radical social theorist and major figure in the ecology movement.
2: "In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into a representation." - Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, 1967
3: The Borges story, credited fictionally as a quotation from "Suárez Miranda, Viajes de varones prudentes, Libro IV, Cap. XLV, Lérida, 1658", imagines an empire where the science of cartography becomes so exact that only a map on the same scale as the empire itself will suffice. [source: Wikipedia]
 May 2021 ConnectHook
Rich Hues
That broken gait,                
That croo-
       Ked spine,
The insanity
We seek in rhyme
Is no poetic quest,                
          No Holy Grail
But a Quasimodic
               Fairy tale
And freedom from                     
The *******'s curse:
The ugly form
That is...
Blank verse.
A ditty about the dotty.
 May 2021 ConnectHook
Rich Hues
Palms cup
Mother-of-pearl
To the ***** laugh
Of a clean-limbed girl
Whose teeth are white
And lips as fresh
As lemon squeezed
On living flesh
Beneath a salmon sky
As the tide slides out
And as we wash them down
With velvet stout.
Is Always the Presence for which there is no need of proof
The past and future are speculative.  What can we know of
Unremembered times-surely we shall not find proof there--
Theories theories why should we place in any of these rather
God is or is not known to be by our experience of Him Now.

Have you ever lost someone you loved who was  such a constant
Like water likedair that you took them for granted,  What a loss
It is.  The heart cries out this cannot be but there it is great grief.

Think on this now -this constant now this always now this all now.
We take for granted that we will always wake up to it and so can
Accept the gift of sleep that it will be there for us upon awakening.

Is this now so humble not our experience  and proof of God.
Is not other and it is the beginning and the end all our knowing.

Watch a silver dolphin leap from the sea like the first word
The it plunges back into the water with barely splash The
Alpa and the Omega.  Duration  Time and Space are now in
The One  A pod surfaces leaps and reveals a language  that
Is music and  ist he song  that bridges time and place making
One a diversity that is present - is again dissolved again into ...

NOW The N is silent ..The O is silent ...the W is silent...
 Apr 2021 ConnectHook
july hearne
he fatly wore the red dress
standing fatly as the  clergy
of the one true church of marxism,

most holy karla
carved, carved karla
coming for the kids

cuckold, cucked, cuck
judas pence
judas pence lives
what to do with his silver
what to do with his stagflation
fox ferried across the river
time for tomorrow
punishment for the sold soul of a nation

hope today is your first day of sorrow
hope many days of sorrow follow your first day of sorrow
 Apr 2021 ConnectHook
july hearne
mornings wasted
spit upon blank pages
stop watch for a man who never shows up
every dream is a hopeful chance
to **** him in your sleep

pull a gun in this sleep
if not, then wait for cancer
a colt 44 is a cold kind of dancer

stolen graveyard flowers
life sentence hours
rabid dogs circling high towers

there's a movie inside
an unfixable life
a demon you thought
was just some pretty thing
something young
coming down the elevator
coming like communists made in china

ugly laughter made in china
something young like laughter laughing
a demon you thought
was just some pretty thing
ugly laugher made in china

something young
an unfixable life
hungry as a reaver
disarm for harm
stockpiles piling

buy your cancer,
cheap, chinese, and made of plastic,
made of slave and
made of master
made in china
buy your cancer
like a demon you thought
was just some pretty thing

hungry as a reaver
a seat at a ***** table
150 square feet
one burner hot plate
made of cheat, made of china
made to confiscate and made of hate

mornings wasted
spit upon blank pages
Disorder
Joy Division

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand
Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?
Lose sensations, spare the insults, leave them for another day
I've got the spirit, lose the feeling
Take the shock away

It's getting faster, moving faster now
It's getting out of hand
On the tenth floor, down the back stairs
It's a no man's land
Lights are flashing, cars are crashing
Getting frequent now
I've got the spirit, lose the feeling
Let it out somehow

What means to you, what means to me
And we will meet again
I'm watching you, I'm watching
Oh I'll take no pity from your friends
Who is right? Who can tell?
And who gives a **** right now?
Until the spirit new sensation takes hold
Then you know
Until the spirit new sensation takes hold
Then you know
Until the spirit new sensation takes hold
Then you know

I've got the spirit
But lose the feeling
I've got the spirit
But lose the feeling
Feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling
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