Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                      The Man Who Never

A bottle in the weeds along the road
A plastic remnant of the American game:
If you drink this fizzy and smoke a toad
You’ll get the car, the house, the girl, the fame

Nahhh

Another forty-something without a job
Just self-pitying songs on the radio
Stealing someone’s gas, another sucker to rob
Bumming money from Mom for no place to go                  

They didn’t believe in you, but you got ‘em showed -
Yeah, dude, you built a career along this road

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                            She Made Life Fun

She made life fun. And then she died. She died
This is her coffee cup. She drank from it
She drank from it sitting in the break room
Making jokes and reading ****** novels

She made life fun. I’ll drink from her old cup
Maybe I’ll make life fun for others as she did
If there is magic in this cracked ceramic
A cup of blessings to be shared all around

She made life fun
And then she died

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

         The Most Embarrassed Young Father in All of Christendom

                                   I will go in to the Altar of God.
                                   To God who giveth joy to my youth.

                                      -The Roman Missal, 1962

The processional had hardly ended
With each minister and server in place
Each knee for a moment respectfully bended
In acknowledgement of God’s gentle Grace

When came to our ears a frightening assault
Of sirens and horns, and then flashing lights
Beneath the sanctuary’s sacred vault
A catalogue of wild electronic frights

To the narthex door a father rushed
Awkwardly in the sight of God and man
His handsome manly face was deeply flushed
His son’s toy helicopter was clutched in his hands

He carried the noisy gadget far away -
(A true helicopter parent we may say!)
We delight in our children; for them we pray
And thank God for all families this Sabbath day

                                 I will go in to the Altar of God.
                                 To God who giveth youthful joy to old age.

                                                   -Parenting 1301

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              I Hear America Whining

The world’s fattest people, packin’ on the pounds
Driving to McDonald’s whenever the mood
And then to the beer joint, drinking those rounds
While complaining about the price of food

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                   The Sunday Evening News in a Time of Elections

                    “Good things of day begin to droop and drowse”

                                           -Macbeth III.ii.58

Suddenly the yellowing afternoon is still
For Indian Summer breezes have slipped away
While clouds of silent midges swirl against the sun
For reasons of nature known only to themselves

The treeline is blue as evening comes on
But the hayfields glow golden for a little while
Until Old Sol falls asleep at last
And the firstling stars come out to play

A rabbit shyly nibbles at the dewing grass –
The day is over; we have to let it pass

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

            A Plumber’s Assistant, a ****, and an Artificial Tree

       **** Rally in Madison Square Garden, 10 February 1939

Isadore Greenbaum wanted to punch a ****
And so he charged – he didn’t get very far
And was beaten up by Real Americans (cough)
      (It took only four or five of ‘em)
And arrested by the New York City Police

One **** stopped kicking Greenbaum to set aright
An artificial tree that was about to fall
Which is a curiosity – what remnant of good
Was in that man that he kept a decoration in place?

Greenbaum is a hero in our nation’s history -
The tidy **** remains a mystery

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                    Torah is Written with Flame

English letters are as orderly as a battle line
But Hebrew letters are flames in their shining shapes
Even on a printed page they dance in light
And with Light comes Truth; you can see God in them

For Hebrew letters are the Burning Bush
The fires of Mount Horeb, the Temple sacrifice
The light of a Talmud scholar’s study lamp
The light of Torah upon civilization

We don’t know our letters as we should
But God has written them upon our hearts