Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                        Upon Re-Reading William L. Shirer's
                         The Rise and Fall of the Third *****

           Perhaps one day America will go fascist democratically,
           by popular vote.

      -William L. Shirer, New York Times, 29 December 1969

We do not live Samsara, for Samsara has meaning
So this is not Samsara; this is a cascade of deaths
We live in linear time – or maybe we don’t -
And the gods of hate sneak in ahead of us

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  Before Me Sits Young Pablo Neruda

                    On the paperback cover of Residence on Earth

Before me sits pensive Pablo Neruda
His young face resting upon his slender hand
He looks a little to the left of the photographer’s eye
He appears to be thinking great thoughts

Or he might be thinking

Why am I posing like a high school senior?


Residence on Earth, introduction by Jim Harrison
New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                    Assembling a Metal Lawn Chair with Great Care
                                   (and a Ball-Peen Hammer)

A friend gave me a lawn chair in tangerine
Bright tangerine, with instructions in English
Which I followed most assiduously
Which parts of the chair most surely did not

The instructions did not mention a ball-Peen hammer
With brutality and words which must not be spoken
(Think of Vulcan and his mighty strokes)
I finally assembled the chair to my satisfaction

And then I sat down

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                Our Children Will Ask Us What We Did in 2024


                                            Thus was th’ applause they meant,
                           Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame
                           Cast on themselves from thir own mouths.

                                   Milton, Paradise Lost, X.545-547


Have we not learned?

The Zeppelinfield, the Kroll Opera House
The Great Hall of 10,000 People
The Hippodrome, the Piazza Venetia
Red Square, and the Quicken Loans Arena

Weak beings subsumed within one commanding Will
Adoring with glistening eyes and beating hearts
A strident oligarchy of destiny
Chanting obscurities and pumping fists

But when the chanting stops and foul diktats roll –
Will you - will I? - be a defiant soul?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                 Dancing Among the Apple Trees

She danced through the orchard in the long ago
Barefoot among sweet summer’s apple trees
And she was the sweetest apple of all
A taste of Creation hymned with the lingering bees

The orchard is mostly gone

                                                                   Her dancing is forever

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              Blue Moon and a Spooky Old Tree

To watch the moonrise is almost liturgical
Her bright silver light behind the far-off pines
Rising and glowing and larger and larger
Silent and silver, lifting above the woods

I set a camera to watch Moon through the night
Electronics see the night and light differently
The old apple tree appears white and skeletal
And ghosts pretending to be insects flit about

Moon and trees and ghosts when left alone
Make merry mischief knowing that I am gone

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                 The Gravitas of Our Vice-Presidential Candidates

               In the end it was the worst speaker of the lot who received
               the most applause. People made no effort to follow him and
               merely roared approval at his every word…

                                       Doctor Zhivago, p. 36

Like high school boys behind the old school gym
In micturic dispute about distance and size
Two men exchange puerile scurrilities
A pair of puffed-up *****-mouthed posers

They know all about army guns ‘n’ stuff
Each hero manque’ stuffier than the other
About their ranks and tanks and thousand-yard-stares
And whose AR is the bigger one

Like high school boys behind the old school gym –
And why must we the people put up with them?

"There is an error," a message said. HP wouldn't accept this.

Try:

https://dispatchesforthecolonialoffice.blogspot.com/?zx=791c4035bc496f75

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            The Moon is Upon Her Throne Tonight

The moon is dressed in her shining best tonight
With silvering joy and lunar happiness
Flying and flowing, flung from her starry wand
Flying and falling upon her glowing-night realm

We loyal subjects peek from our windows to see
An argent pageant royal of beauty and truth
Even in summer the lawn is a frosty field
For her monthly dance, by her command

The Lady of the Moon is our Summer Queen
As she will be, and is, and ever has been

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  We Know Where the Holy Grail Is


           “They all say they’ve got the Holy Grail. So who’s right?”

                      The Holy Grail: Many places say they have it.
                       So who’s right? | CNN


We know where the Holy Grail is
Each Sunday we see it on the Altar
As a cup, indifferent in its origins
In the catalogue of a church supply

A rabbi, a carpenter, and God
Walk into a rented room
And a Passover Kiddush cup is blessed
With the Viaticum, for all of us

A Passover seder is neither first nor last
It is forever – and here is the Cup

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            Where do Sunflowers go in August?


                 May our love for the Sun, the will of God, be as strong
                 as the sunflower’s…

                                     -attributed to St. John of Tobolsk


With the mower I took the sunflowers down
The withered remnants, stalks and heads and seeds
Those few remaining seeds rejected by the birds
For reasons of their own

With the mower I circled ‘round and round
Building a thickish thatch as a sort of nest
For seeds in anticipation of autumn
The seasons know their own

With the mower I saw high summer gone
I mowed – or had I mown?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

     Comparing Our Secret Service with Barney Fife is Inappropriate

                            Because we love and respect Deputy Fife

In art, incompetence can have a certain charm
But in stupid men with guns the charm is lacking
Our agents can’t even keep themselves from harm
Their greatest skills are in shacking and slacking

Colombian girlies and slanting roofs
Unman the best of them; they lose their guns
They lose laptops, but never their 90-proof
And break into private property for poopy runs

To them a President entrusts his life –
He’d surely be safer with Deputy Fife

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

Comparing our Secret Service with Barney Fife is Inappropriate

                              Because we love and respect Deputy Fife

In art, incompetence can have a certain charm
But in stupid men with guns the charm is lacking
Our agents can’t even keep themselves from harm
Their greatest skills are in shacking and slacking

Colombian girlies and slanting roofs
Unman the best of them; they lose their guns
They lose laptops, but never their 90-proof
And break into private property for poopy runs

To them a President entrusts his life –
He’d surely be safer with Deputy Barney Fife

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
14 August 2024

    Comparing our Secret Service with Barney Fife is Inappropriate

                          Because we love and respect Deputy Fife

In art, incompetence can have a certain charm
But in stupid men with guns the charm is lacking
Our agents can’t even keep themselves from harm
Their greatest skills are in shacking and slacking

Colombian girlies and slanting roofs
Unman the best of them; they lose their guns
They lose laptops, but never their 90-proof
And break into private property for poopy runs

To them a President entrusts his life –
He’d surely be safer with Deputy Barney Fife

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                               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, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                          Why are the Candidates Yelling at Us?

The candidates bluster and scream on TV
But I will never vote for anyone, you see,
Whose concept of leadership is yelling at me

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                         Night of the Murdered Jewish Poets

                                               12 August 1952

When a tyrant has completed his catalogue of hate
Sent thousands to the noose and millions to the pyre
He ponders fresh murders as he sits up late
Whom else can he summon to his satanic fire?

There is agony in his soul – someone must pay
Those scribblers of verse – now there is treason
Another list, a list, without delay!
Poets to the Lubyanka – I need no reason!

I listen, I hear my night-whispering muse:
“Death is upon you, death, but first, but first…
  
                                                                                   the Jews.”

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
13 August 2024

                                             Four Fresh Limes

When my neighbor left four fresh limes at my door
The universe did not hold its breath

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
11 August 2024

                          Night of the Murdered Jewish Poets

                                          12 August 1952

When a tyrant has completed his catalogue of hate
Sent thousands to the noose and millions to the pyre
He ponders fresh murders as he sits up late
Whom else can he summon to his satanic fire?

There is agony in his soul – someone must pay
Those scribblers of verse – now there is treason
Another list, a list, without delay!
Poets to the Lubyanka – I need no reason!

I listen, I hear my night-whispering muse:
“Death is upon you, death, but first, but first…
  
                                                                ­                                  the Jews.”

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
10 August 2024

                    Why Are the Presidential Candidates Yelling at Us?

The candidates bluster and scream on TV
But I will never vote for anyone, you see,
Whose concept of leadership is yelling at me

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                              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, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            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, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                      A Garden is a Department of Metaphysics

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.

-Rumi


A garden is a Department of Metaphysics
Promethean fire and shadows in a cave of light
Leaves of trees falling upon more leaves
The leaves of books left open to the sun

The lecture lawn is furnished with old chairs
Old garden chairs rusty with wisdom and age
From duty to weather and men, the several cathedrae
Of the learned Order of Gaffer Swanthold

Athena’s owl calls from the nearby wood
Calling all men to silence and reflection

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com


                                           ­  Bar-and-Chain Oil


                                      “Here, sir, The People govern.”

                                    -attributed to Alexander Hamilton


Do our wise and more equal-than-equal equals
In all three branches (barren now) of government
Flying from luxury offices to luxury homes
In luxury aircraft they know to be their due

Pause between delicate porcelain cups
Of rare and precious Jamaica Blue Mountain
And single-malt in hand-cut Waterford crystal
And delicacies arranged on silver trays

Look down upon their lesser-than-equal equals
And suddenly remember
“I forgot to buy some bar-and-chain oil!”

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            About That Reed Shaken with the Wind


                       What went ye out into the wilderness to see?
                                      A reed shaken with the wind?

                                      -Saint Matthew 11:8


A swaying riverside reed is a marvelous thing
In its proper service to our gracious Lord
A stalk of grass honoring its Creator
In quiet, unassuming dignity

Symbolisms are laid upon the reed
In power-point sermons and learned texts
But first of all it is but a nice little reed
Joining its labors with those of the whispering wind

Until Our Lord Himself calls upon that reed
Even as He calls upon us for some small deed

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                          Teaching Whose Bible in Public School?

                  A Rebuke to Miz Grundy and Reverend Gantry

Surely a teacher could choose his own Bible
This shouldn’t be as difficult as it seems
It couldn’t possibly be forbidden or liable
To teach the children from the Douay-Rheims

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.

                         The Several Olympic Committees

Sewerage, filth, top-****, toxins, debris
Deadly bacteria, openly-floating poo
The pollution of the ages flowing free –

(They say the River Seine’s in bad shape too)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                             A Small-Minded Man

Oh, yes, I am a very small-minded man
Whose horizon stops at the apple trees
Whose vision is much upon the little things:
A tiny snail upon a pepper-plant leaf

A placid rabbit nibbling at the lawn
A squirrel feasting on his daily grains and seeds
A bluebird shyly hiding among the oaks
A mockingbird mocking all the rest of us

No grand visions for me; I will not leave
Small villages of dead bodies and wicked smoke
The rotting bodies of children and animals
Cratered cities of bomb-blackened ruins and stench

I promote no world-changing master plan -
Deo Gratias, I am a very small-minded man

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                      Playin­g the ****** Card

We say we should never play that card
But we see that it has been played
It lies upon the table before us -
Whose furtive, febrile hand placed it there?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

         A Mildly Amusing Repudiation of the Concept of Entropy


                         For poetry too is a little incarnation.

                     -C. S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms


All that ever was, that is, that ever will be -
All is from God, and will return to God
As elegant iambic pentameter

(Okay, maybe tetrameter)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                     The Olympics as Imagined by John Milton


                        On the anniversary of the martyrdom of

                                        Father Jacques Hamel


The Olympics this year seem demon-haunted -
Christians, Jews, and amateurs not wanted

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                      On Being a Still Life Today

No outside duties have called me away today
And so I have become a still life entitled “Ennui”
Or perhaps “Weltschmerz with a Pet Dog”
Two dogs, actually, and they have napped the hours

The rain has fallen day after day after day
A parallel to the Ancient Mariner’s sun
Tree frogs cling to the algae-green window panes
As if they too have lost interest in life

Even so

With my little world all rainy and grey
I am happy to be a still life today

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                            Ill Manners in Paris

                          Opening Ceremony at the Paris Olympics

All are welcome at the Table of the Lord
But first
It’s always good manners to wash your face and hands

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                Let’s go for Coffee -- Grab Your Flak Jacket

Some give their sons semi-automatics and hate
Instead of family and purpose and love
Instead of guided study and structured faith
Instead of fishing poles and summer afternoons

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              In Memoriam – Ayden Rose



                 Eternal rest, O Lord, grant unto your daughter

                                           Ayden Rose

                  and make perpetual Light to shine upon her



Ayden was a neat, funny kid in my 9:00 o’clock class
Hard-working and smart, and more than a little bit saucy
As eighteen-year-olds are supposed to be
She grew up to be a triple-threat teacher and coach

And on Monday night some hero shot her in the back


When stupid people ask me about Viet-Nam

                        (“I guess you seen some action, huh?”

I tell them that for our children here in America

It’s much worse

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                   Prisoners Working in the Early Morning Rain

We have all worked in the rain – building fences
Getting up the cows for milking twice a day
Sloshing through the muck to make deliveries
And usually with some choice in the matter

Prisoners have choices too – cells or a work detail
In designer costumes with horizontal stripes
Not much of a choice, but the work is needful and good
Picking up the litter of freedom and patching the road

Through the wipers I wave. They wave back. Rain -
We have all passed by our fellow man in the rain

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

      Your New (Famous Name Brand) Credit Card Has Arrived!

UserName already taken card
number invalid access code too short
access code already taken last four
digits of your social download the app
link pay save 3 easy ways to activate
scan the QR code with your phone’s camera
error visit MyFamousNameBrand.com/Activate
register your account for consumer center
error error error invalid please say yes or no
I didn’t quite get that call 1-***-***-XXXX
this call is being monitored for your protection
we didn’t tell anyone that enable
paperless statements set up alerts error
your number is invalid your number is invalid
your number is invalid all our representatives
are busy right now but I could refer you to
our site your number is invalid select
your savings every day earn save save
even more that number cannot be accessed
see your rewards program terms for details
please try again

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

               Encounter with an Aging Hippie Benedictine Tertiary
                                    at the Church Door

The old man’s tee said QUESTION AUTHORITY
In the narthex, where we lay our scene
(Shakespeare lay his scene in Verona, but this was not Verona)
I joshed about deferring to seniority
For he was a tertiary Benedictine

He raised his quavery voice as best as he was able
To squeak that all teachings can and should lay
Upon some sort of philosophical table
And then he rattled his walker and clattered away

I do not know what any of this might mean –  
But I think I was dismissed as a Philistine

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  My Great Replacement Theory

                       (or maybe just a lesser replacement theory)

Teenagers opened the doors for me at Mass
Which used to be my job, but they stepped up
And in stepping up they are replacing me
Which is good - I miss my youth but delight in theirs

A boy and a girl giggled and whispered
In a language I don’t know except that
Having once been young, I know it well -
A perfect translation was in their eyes

All languages come from Old Solar, Lewis says
And to Old Solar will someday return
We must all be replaced someday
For in Creation’s Great Dance that is a step

Teenagers opened the doors for me at Mass
And God will open another door afterward



Cf. C. S. Lewis, *The Space Trilogy

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            Orgiastic Screaming from Below

           Those who called for Nonsense will find that it comes

                         -C. S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength

We have seen Milton’s Pandaemonium
Choreographed on a wide palantir
Fallen angels praising the Great Fallen One
In a High Council of electrified lies

Great thunderings of fire and rolling smoke
Issuing from a shiny plastic throne of power
The Great Fallen One framed in Elvis lights
On the floor the lesser ones screaming in ecstasy

The Great Fallen One has a plan for us
After all the balloons, too, have fallen

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                 The Mysterious World of Azalea

If I were a child, this would be a happy place
A hidden leaf-mould world, all darkly green
Summery green beneath the shaded sun
Between the roots, beneath the leaves, alone

If I were a child, this would be a happy place
A brand-new comic book, some army men
A Roy Rogers cap pistol without any caps
A plastic Tarzan swinging from branch to branch

If I were a child…but alas, I’m not -
I’m pruning back limbs and checking for rot

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                          Who Gives a Fig?

Some people say that they don’t a give a fig
Which we would never hear from a happy fig tree -
The one at the bottom of the garden gives its fruit
As a blessing to every passing animal

Squirrels and rabbits, sparrows and mockingbirds
Share in this sugary summer delight
I speed by on my riding lawnmower
And take a fig myself, only to give it away

Some people say that they don’t a give a fig
But I think we need more figs in our lives

(As Amanda Holmes did not exactly say)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

         Convention: Day 4 – A Workshop in Obedience Training

[This doggerel is recyclable and may be employed in both the Republican and Democrat conventions.]

The cult formed obediently for his look-at-me show
Where every response was a fist and a cheer
He didn’t tell his sycophants what they needed to know
But only what he wanted them to hear

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                 For Bob Newhart of Happy, Happy Memory


         “He will not refuse one who is so blithe to go to Him.”

           -Saint Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons


With just a telephone, a clipboard, and a stutter
He was a happy band of some of our best friends:
May we with him
At last approach that Inn where all are welcome

The joy he gave us proceeds before him
The angelic choirs soften their hum and throb
Because
That loving Voice we all most long to hear
Will gently say,

                                                     “Hi, Bob.”

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

          Convention: Day 3 – Any Kind Words for the Constitution?

[This doggerel is recyclable and may be employed in both the Republican and Democrat conventions.]


We both were raised in destitution
We both went off to war
We swore the same oath to the Constitution –
The Constitution - are you with us so far?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

         Convention: Day 2 - Grima Wormtongue Gives a Speech

          [This doggerel is recyclable and may be employed in both the
          Republican and Democrat conventions.]

I’m strong against that wicked man, strong and brave!
(But for a cabinet seat I’ll be his slave)

This doggerel is recyclable for Republican, Democrat, and all other conventions.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                               When Reptiles Embrace

They closely embrace, as brother to brother
But which will be first to betray the other?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                             How Many Moons Can You See?

               It was a full moon and, shining on all the snow,
               it made everything almost as bright as day.

          -C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

When the subject of vision came up
(as it must with an ophthalmologist)
I told Dr. Talbot that I saw two moons
When only one of them would be sufficient

But which one?

After a gentle touch of surgery
I now see only one moon, which is nice
But I rather miss that other moon
And wonder if in her exile she misses me too

Where is she?

On whatever planet you happen to live
I don’t think you can have too many moons

(This scribble is recyclable for Republican, Democrat, and all other conventions)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                     A Cautionary Reading from John Milton
       For All Who Consider Attending Any Political Convention

So having said, a while he stood expecting
Thir universal shout and high applause
To fill his ear, when contrary he hears
On all sides, from innumerable tongues
A dismal universal hiss, the sound
Of public scorn…

                                  …he would have spoke,
But hiss for hiss return’d with forked tongue
To forked tongue, for now were all transform’d
Alike, to Serpents all as accessories
To his bold Riot: dreadful was the din
Of hissing through the Hall, thick swarming now
With complicated monsters…

                   -John Milton, Paradise Lost X.504ff

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

           Fire Ants Devouring the Corpses of Unhatched Wasps


                      Nature does not, in the long run, favour life.

                  -C. S. Lewis, “On Living in an Atomic Age,” 1948


A formation of formicidae trekked north-northwest
Across a vast and lonely sunbeaten expanse
Their imperial quest a fallen wasps’ nest
Between a lawn chair and a potted plant

The ants greedily ripped open the paper shells
Like Christmas crackers for the goodies inside
The ghastly drippings of pupae in their jaws
Fragments of dead wasplings for their demanding queen

A formation of formicidae trekked east-southeast -
What, then, is the number of an unnumbered beast?