Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           Let Us Celebrate No Tyrants Day


                           “We have no king but Caesar!”

               -A long-ago mob as written in St. John 19:15


Even the King of Kings is under the Law
And too, since Magna Carta, our earthly King -
From the people and their voices he can only draw
Such powers as their assemblies vote to bring

But may God protect us from a Common Man
Slithering to supremacy through serpentine speech
Emboldened by the power of cabal, club, and clan
Mobs chanting for their master, a soul-******* leech

God gives us His grace in a King and Queen
Republics give us the guillotine

On the backs of
flies
we wait for the
next thing.
Something is
always coming.
A birth or death,
food or hunger
hatred
laughter
love...

Something is always
coming around the
corner.
The Mad Hatter with
mushroom tea.
A strange color of
blue that tastes like
almonds.
A ****** that sparkles
in the night.

Listless mornings
of languid
walks with the
wife in the cool
of the evening.

A knife in the back,
a shark attack,
or maybe, just
possibly, you write
a poem about
waiting for the
next thing.

People are amazed when I levitate
Inquiring minds would like to know
How they too can bust a move
Clear their throat and start to float

What happens is most of the action
Comes from my ears and eyebrows
My knees start a slapping when I get them to flapping
In the direction of North to South

With the crossing of several fingers
Along with both my eyes
No longer a need here to linger
As I lift up towards the sky

The motorboat sound that comes from my mouth
Really isn't necessary
It just adds some pizzazz to the moment at hand
And lends to the fact of the extraordinary  

What's a trip like this without showmanship
To leave the crowds flabbergasted
When flying around, here and there, there about
Who among you would have guessed that

The best way to levitate
Is in the flapping of ears and eyebrows
With fingers crossed plus eyes at all costs
If you ever did doubt what it's all about

You're bound to find out this is the best way
If you ever do try and levitate...

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Arthur Benjamin Franklin: my Unca Artie, my favorite. A High School football star, known as Red Franklin, he was famous for his dark red hair.  He used to chuck me into deep water at Chrystal Pool to terrify me for 5 seconds, then hoist me onto his broad shoulders.I suspect I was his favorite too.  War came and he had to go.  I cried and cried on the herringbone patterned bricks at the train depot in Kelso. I have a v-mail he sent to my mom, his sister, dated 1942.  He was a belly gunner on the B-17’s that  were flying the area where Rommel was fighting.  He brought my sis and I back little leather suitcases, tooled in wonderful designs by a skilled artist somewhere in the orient. I still have it.  A treasure.

Grover Cleveland Franklin: My suave uncle, joined the Navy in WWII and became a deep sea diver. The kind that wore those heavy suits with the big glass bubble head.  He helped detect and destroy mines around battleships.  In doing that brave work he lost his hearing and came home as a lip reader for most of my childhood. I was always  a bit suspicious because he seemed to read lips so well. He even got written up in the newspaper because he could sing while putting his hands on a phonograph and feeling the vibrations of the music he couldn’t hear. We kids would always try to make loud noise behind him but he never once reacted to it.
Many years later I learned that he confessed that his hearing had gradually came back.  He was a hero nevertheless.

About their names: Both being born in North Carolina, back in the 1920’s it was common practice among the country folk to name sons after famous people.  I also have another distant relative named George Washington Franklin. I love having hillbilly DNA.

Warm days
Cool hearts
Fresh starts
Silence once.
     Stood
Unspoken words
Softly calmness
Across the oceans
Silence
Love confused
Caught in a fire
Blaze too deep
Sought companionship
Unspoken words
Left with a puzzle mind
It was hard to find
Answers of silence
Warm days
Cool hearts
Fresh starts
Silence once stood
Unspoken words
Warm days

Bowing to the ***** god,
I lived like a pleasure
seeking missile, propelled
toward all things ME.
Empty as a carcass.
Hungry as a desert.
I didn't see the
strawberry moon of
summer.
It was me and the
Ferryman, until the
river ran dry.
Eternal winter for
the soul.

And then

A revolution in my
being.
A total shift in
my values and
perception.
The Creator purchased
my dilapidated heart.
He moved in and lives
there still.

My home, on the outside
might look like
a shack to some, but inside
it's a mansion with the
most sublime bread you
ever tasted.
Fruit trees in every room.

The withering rose
A lovely shade
of bloodied violet

Paints a portrait
of my heart

"The rose in
suffering silence"

Cast your spells
Ring your bells
I draw
The parallels
Back to the basics
Of human equations
Mentation
Illuminates
Merely gestations
Are not quite the squirming
The learning
The earning
The born to
A bullet storm
Mourning
World burning

The walls that are
invisible to the eye
are the hardest
ones to break.