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

                              Contents of the Live Man’s Pockets

       Cf. “Contents of the Dead Man’s Pockets,” Jack Finney, 1956

A little book of poetry for waiting rooms
A MePhone because everybody carries one
A little Rosary that never leaves its vinyl case
For prayers that never leave the bearer’s lips

A pocket notebook and a gel-point pen
For those great ideas that will change the world
A pocket knife, without which a man is not dressed
A ring of keys for locking people out
            Or in?

And next to my poor heart a pocket square -
Though once upon a time I carried your picture there

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

           Beached Beauties, Summer Tomatoes, and Midday Cicadas


                                   Where are the songs of Spring?

                                                        ­-Keats


The tomatoes are split and discolored in the heat
Like bathing beauties who have beached too long
And, gathering up the past, totter home at dusk
Surprised to be all burnt and wrinkled with age

The sun of April who was a ***** lover
Caressing and warming their soft young skin
Is now a middle-aged man baring his chest
And seeking love in other vegetable beds

The cicadas of noon mourn in the withering heat
In remembrance of spring, youthful and sweet

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


                 A Shepherd’s Path from the Mountain of La Salette

            For a good and kindly priest who is being transferred
                              after forty years of faithful service


                   The old order changeth, yielding place to new

                                -Tennyson, Idylls of the King


We don’t know if the cart drivers have stopped swearing
Or if the potato crops are doing well this year
Or if the rocks have indeed become wheat
Or if everyone prays an Ave each day

We don’t know if the Field of Coin still flourishes
Or if the people of Corps faithfully attend Mass
Or if barefoot boys and girls still herd sheep
Or if they listen, as did Melanie and Maximin

But we do know that Our Lady of La Salette
To care for us through our pilgrimage in time
In a land far from that holy mountain
Has blessed us with Her most faithful missionary

Through the ordinal cycles of seasons and feasts
He served the Table in the Name of the Lord
He baptized us, taught us, confirmed us, confessed us
Married us, anointed us, and buried our dead

Through blessed years and tears and nights and days –
But now to the Will of God
We surrender him with thanks and prayers and praise


                         And God fulfils Himself in many ways

                                                   -Tennyson

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

                                                Surgery in Three Parts


                                                 1 - Fear for Tomorrow

I don’t know what will happen to her tomorrow -
The anaesthesia and the surgical trauma
Invading all those organs compromised
Compromised by age and failing health

There’s a contract coffee bar in the lobby main
One could savour a coffee and a croissant
While waiting for a messenger of life or death
Does anyone know where the chapel is?

A marriage should not end in ICU
In the echoing chants of “Code Blue…Code Blue…”

                                          2 - Fear for Today

Morning is filled with possibilities
But today…
Morning is fraught with possibilities

                                           3 – Deo Gratias

The surgeon and the RN visit me
In a cold-as-a-morgue fluorescent-lit room
With their masks loose about their necks
To report that all went well

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

                             This is my Stacking Swivel


                  We were speaking of historic stacking swivels,
                  and Shelley thought there might be poem in it


This is my stacking swivel. There are many like it
But this one is mine; that recruit training moment
When I was issued my G.I. stacking swivel
I felt like Sergeant Rock, over the top

My stacking swivel makes me feel like a man
This American stacking swivel of instant death
A chilled-steel weapon of liberating power
Striking fear into the enemies of freedom

Look upon my stacking swivel, ye mighty!
And despair!

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

                               The I.T. Department Goes Wild

We are subject to the whims of every I.T. blighter
But never have we heard
That Hemingway was locked out of his own typewriter

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

                                             To the I.C.E. Gangs


          In the dock…slumped in their seats fidgeting nervously…
          They seemed to be a drab assortment of mediocrities. It
           seemed difficult to grasp that such men…had wielded such
           monstrous power…

   -William L. Shirer, The Rise and Fall of the Third *****, p. 1142


When this is over, we will not come for you -
But good and faithful servants of our laws
With warrants, in uniform, in marked cars
Not hiding behind masks –
                                                      they will come for you

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

                       The Imperial WE Decreed a Cease-Fire


          "We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most
          wonderful people…!  We all say so, and so it must be true."

                        -The Bandar-Log in The Jungle Book


The press, the congress, the people - they all must cower
A cringing staff to serve as disposable tools
All the appearances and appliances of power
In the hands of vain, acrimonious fools

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

                    I Gave my Friend a Poem for Her Birthday

I gave my friend a poem for her birthday
“It’s not as much fun as an electric train,” she said,
“But it’s pretty good.”

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

                                               Bombs – All Sizes

                                    -As Jack Kerouac did not say


          If we are all going to be destroyed…let that bomb when it
          comes find us doing sensible and human things praying,
          working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the
          children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint
          and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened
          sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies
          (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our
          minds.

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


Bombs fall tonight, but then they fall every night
Conceived over single-malt, born of the generals
Suffering not at all as their electronics systems
Guide them in the ways the Bible salesman deems

Bombs fall tonight, on a nuclear facility, they say
We can only ask the ashes and winds
While in our triumphalist Ozymandian presumption
We fancy that bombs will never fall on us

Bombs fall tonight – and have we been doing
Sensible and human things?

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

                                     Parlements of Foules

The Parlement of Foules of whom old Chaucer wrote
Meet yearly on the Feast of Valentine
In Venus’ temple to negotiate
The noble rites of love and life and youth

The Parliament of Birds on my front lawn
In their several sub-species negotiate
Their seeds and crusts with outraged squawks and shrieks
But in the end manage to satisfy all

Good Parliaments of Birds are of order and rules
But humans elect poor Parliaments of Fools

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

                                      The President’s Complaint


            “Speak, vermin!...What is the meaning of all this waste,
             this gluttony, this self-indulgence?”

      -The White Witch in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe


Juneteenth celebrates freedom from *******
But the president would have us all in Don-dage

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

                                                 Reading the Room

I don’t know to read a room, but look –
I’m still pretty good at reading a book!

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

              Our First-Person-Plural God-Emperor Bible Salesman
                                       Orders a War for Us


                   “Hell hath no fury like a non-combatant”

        -many attributions; dates to at least the American Civil War


The imperial We have / has spoken:
First His parade, and now our young people’s war
And what do His commands betoken?
Maybe for Him a shiny Silver Star

For sending our young to die in glorious battle
Across the screen and over the top
Waving His joystick like a baby’s rattle
With diet soda by way of an air drop

He’ll order our children to face the foe
But be assured – no Trump will ever go

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

                                  A Certain Church Lady

Even in her sneers and whisperings she is loud
Her catalogue of resentments, unremitting
Orbit her accusatory tongue like a poisonous cloud
This mad Medusa forever hissing and spitting

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

   About That Full All-Out Full-Blown Hot Cold Shadow War Zone

Can a war ever be empty?
Can a war ever be some-in?
Can a war ever be some-out?
Can a war ever be partially-blown?
Can a war ever be a lukewarm war?
Can a war ever be an unshadow war?
Can a zone ever be anything but a war zone?
Can “digital content producers” ever learn to write without employing pointless adjectives and adverbs?

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

                                      International Chopsticks

Forgive me for any insensitive remarks
But do piano students in China practice “Forks?”

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

     Our Capitol Police – Keeping America Safe from 87-Year-Olds

                       No Unmarked Cars for Senior Citizens

At least when our police ‘cuff an elderly man
They stuff him into a well-marked van


14 June 20245 - our Stasi handcuffed an 87-year-old veteran today:

https://x.com/CarolinaLumetta/status/1933669206114898254/video/3

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

                                                      If I Were Brave


                                                         ­          Now, soldiers, march away.
                                  And how Thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

                                    -Henry V, Iv.iii.131-132


If I were brave (and I am not)
And if I were in the Capital (and I am not)
I hope God would steel my heart (Henry V, IV.1.307)
To ask the soldiers to stop (I would probably look very silly)

I would not be the first to step in front of them
But if someone else were to lead
I would follow second
Wearing my old boonie hat

And speak to them of a bad man:

                                  “Now does he feel his title
          Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
          Upon a dwarfish thief.”

                                     -Macbeth, V.ii.20-22

And ask them to march away. Please.

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

                             Ancient Pistol Takes the Salute

Tanks grinding the streets all mucky and muddy
Sturdy old Hueys and Cobras flying high
And our leader’s Viet-Nam Army buddies
Saluting him proudly while marching by

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

                        What Could be More American than
                    Masked Secret Police in Unmarked Cars?

Perhaps the suggestion has already been made:
ICE’s Black Marias could lead the parade

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

             Will He Borrow Augusto Pinochet’s Old Uniform?

While reviewing his troops from his high platform
          Hup! Toop! Threep! Fourp!
Will Our Leader stand tall in uniform
          Right shoulder HARMS!
Glittery with medals and a shiny firearm
          Boom-tiddy! Boom-tiddy! Boom-Boom-Boom!
Swelling with pride in his goosestepping swarm
          Ta-ra-ra-BOOM-dee-ay!

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

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

                   A Middle-Aged Sack Boy Yelling into Space
                      While Carelessly Loading the Groceries

“MAN, THIS WEEKEND I’M GONNA:

“CENTRAL PROCESSING UNIT! TLB AMPLITUDE MULTI-MEDIA CONTENT! STREAM VAC STREAM PROFILE VISUAL DISPLAY UNIT SONIC VIBRATIONS IoT KERNEL ZETTABYTE! YOWEE! T-POS VM VE VPN HE DON’T KNOW RAM FROM ROM HA! HA! OS GL LOAD BALANCE LOGIC CATE BIT RATE ALAC ADC AIN’T GOT NO CHI FI IN MY SYSTEMS, DUDE! NT DAC MMORP G FLAC WAV MQA OGG MP3 AAC MQA PHASEY-DAISY DRIVIN’ ME CRAZY! PCM SHE BRAIN-TICKLES ME! OPEN BETA GAIN DRIVER SO SHE’S GOT THIS KID BY HER FIRST MARRIAGE TERMSYNC LOGIN BUT I’M DOWN WITH THAT SHE WRITES MY GRAPHICS CARD IF Y’ KNOW WHAT I MEAN HEH! HEH! AFB METAGAME CHEESE KONAMI CODE LEVEL! GAME MECHANIC BUFFED NERFED LFG LFM GAMERTAG!!!! XBOX CYBERFI SMOKE ME SOME PANAMA RED ELECTRON KOMMANDO! NEUTRON NUGGET PROTON PROTEAN A PRIEST A RABBI AND A WITCH-GODDESS TRANSPORT INTO A NEUTRON BAR SLIDERULERS OF THE UNIVERSE DON’T BOGART THAT BIOME AND THEN I GOT ME A WEEK’S VACATION COMING…!”

(Don’t forget the dog food)

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

                                         Pushing the Envelope

What envelope is being pushed?
From whom to whom – across the room?
And why should it be pushed at all?
Is the envelope an English A-1?
An American business-size?
A birthday check for someone to steal?
Pushing a broom, pushing a sale
Pushing a pen – some sense in those
But what is the purpose in pushing
An envelope?
                               And did you stamp it?

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

                                     Pushkin the Poetic Cat

Long, lean, and lanky, he slithers like a snake
In blue-grey fur; he makes the mousies quake

But I haven’t seen him in several days
He roams the woods and fields, he hunts, he strays

He’s proud and brave, my handsome Russian Blue -
Did he cross claws with a treacherous Chartreux?

Did they exchange hisses at just ten paces
Does his little corpse lie in wild snowy spaces?

I hope his life hasn’t ended like that
For I very much miss my dear little cat

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

                                           Blueberry Portal


               “In dreams the fool is free from scorning voices”

                                         -C. S. Lewis, “Dymer”


In the drowsy, bee-sy afternoon
Picking blueberries in the white-sun heat
Voices. Conversation. But it’s only the bees
While the blueberries dance and spin and whirl

What do bees talk about? They don’t tell me
And I don’t need to know – but we’re all friends
And the dancing blueberries – they’re having fun
They welcome me into another world

The leaves write me little love-letters that say
How happy to have you home for an hour today!

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

                But They’ll Be Kissing Someone Else’s Boots Next Year

I saw a cleaner landscape as I traveled today:
All the TRUMP flags have mysteriously gone away

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

        Garish On-Your-Face In-Your-Face Makeup at Twenty Paces

There are several forms of government:

Monarchy
Kakistocracy
Oligarchy
Autocracy
Democracy
­Anarchy

But Mr. Trump and Mr. Musk have given us
A new form of government via online spat
We’re ruled by cheerleader moms who shriek and cuss
So what is the scholarly Greek word for that?

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

                                   Bishops Who Roared Like Lions

Your Grace:

There have been bishops who have roared like lions
But your demeanor is that of a house pet
Please rise from your couch in Caesar’s triclinium
And return to the streets to serve God’s people

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

                               Bishops Who Roared Like Lions

Your Grace:

There have been bishops who have roared like lions
But your demeanor is that of a house pet
Please rise from your couch in Caesar’s triclinium
And return to the streets to serve God’s people

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

                                              What Did He Say?

She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap
When we arrived to drive her to an appointment
In a large building in the center of town


The doctor said something about stage 2


She had little to say as we drove away
And when we left her at her home again
She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap

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

                 Child Injured after Accidentally Shooting Himself

                                                       -headline

I’m sorry, Daddy
I didn’t mean to bleed all over the rug
I’m sorry, Daddy
It really hurts
I’m sorry, Daddy
I only wanted to play with your favorite toy
I’m sorry, Daddy
Why is everybody yelling?
I’m sorry, Daddy
I don’t feel good, Daddy…

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

                       The New Poets of England and America


                        Young poetry is the breath of parted lips.

                                    -Robert Frost, introduction
                         The New Poets of England and America


They’re no longer new; they’re not even alive
Those post-war young voices of strength and hope
Working through the wastelands after men of destiny
Blitzed beauty with bullets, bombers, and barbed wire

Some of them soldiers, and war-weary all
They were worn out, but determined and young
Digging out the words they had hidden away
Cleaning them up for service to humanity

They were young; they were very much like you
Doing their duty as artists and poets must do


The New Poets of England and America
Ed. Donald Hall et al
Introduction by Robert Frost
New York: Meridian Books, 1957

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

                                     The True First Day of Summer

                                “This is the day the Lord hath made…”

When teachers fold their leathery wings and sleep
Hidden away in their bat-cave deep
In the darkness where foul things lurk and creep -
Only then may children freely laugh and leap

No more tiresome lessons about “lie” and “lay’
A child may lie in the glass or lay in the hay
Run out to the lawns and fields to play
And joy in the freedom of each summer day

The 20th of June? A fallacious rule -
Summer begins on the last day of school!

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

                                The Texas Sanhedrin


          Sponsored by Sen. Phil King, a Republican from Weatherford,            
          the bill requires every classroom to visibly display a poster [of
          The Ten Commandments] sized at least 16 by 20 inches. The
          poster can’t include any text other than the language laid out
          in the bill, and no other similar posters may be displayed.

                   -Ten Commandments in every classroom:
                    Texas bill nearing law | The Texas Tribune


Our legislature suppresses the pilgrims’ way
They’ve established a government church; we must obey
And from its edicts free Texans dare not stray
(Though the lawmakers work on the Sabbath day!)

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

                                       At the Barracks Gate


                  “Underneath the lantern by the barracks gate”

                                                 -"Lili Marlene"


There were two lanterns at our barracks gate
After standing inspection for Cinderella Liberty
We passed beneath them to catch the Number 7 bus
Past Balboa’s eucalyptus trees, into downtown

Where sins of the flesh awaited our E-1 fantasies
But instead we went to Mass, found a coffee shop
Nervously walked along Lower Broadway
Tried desperately to look like old salts

Carefully stayed away from Lili Marlene
And ‘phoned our parents from the lobby of the U. S. Grant

Lawrence Hall 1d
"And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea"
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               “And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea”


               For A.V on the Happy Occasion of Her Graduation


I hope and believe that at Harvard still
In the springtime of their golden youth
Lovers sit upon the lawn’s green morning grass
Before class
                           and read Shelley to each other

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

At Mass the Young Again are Crowned with Mantillas

A mantilla in its elegance and lace
Frames forth the beauty of a noble lady’s face
A gentlemen steps back a courtly pace
Giving honour to his lady and her crown of grace

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

           At Mass the Young Again are Crowned with Mantillas

A mantilla in its elegance and lace
Frames forth the beauty of a noble lady’s face
A gentlemen steps back a courtly pace
Giving honour to his lady and her crown of grace

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

                               “And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea”


               For A.V on the Happy Occasion of Her Graduation


I hope and believe that at Harvard still
In the springtime of their golden youth
Lovers sit upon the lawn’s green morning grass
Before class
                           and read Shelley to each other

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

                                               I Miss Kosher Sam’s

Wish I could remember what street it was on
It’s been so long ago, when Kosher Sam’s
Was my coffee shop, and I was young
One day I also ordered a slice of cake

The cheerful waitress asked me how it tasted
I suggested that maybe it was a little bit dry
She grabbed it up and rushed it to the kitchen
She and another waitress and The Sam Himself

They took clean forks and tasted and talked about it
They took more forks and tasted and talked again
And appeared to come to a mishpat at last
Sam brought to me what was left of the cake

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he firmly ruled
I took and ate (tho’ it really was a little dry)
On an evil day I left San Diego
I wish I’d stopped to say goodbye to Kosher Sam’s

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

                          With Connections He Could Have Been
                              a Member of the President's Cabinet

“No.”
My first, my only word to him was “no”
He had shuffled to the table, shaking and shuffling
Aquiver with the sickening spasms of drugs
He turned, he slammed a table, he shuffled away

“No.”
The waitress watched at the window ‘til he was gone
“He used to come in and ask for breakfast,” she said.
“We gave him breakfast for cleaning the parking lot
But then he started stealing stuff from the back”

“No.”
He might have been Jesus. But I don’t think so
More men walk the roads. The waitress sports tattoos

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


           Take Cover! We’re Celebrating Intellectual Achievements!


                         “These papers expired three weeks ago.
                          You’ll have to come with us.”

            -a colonial police officer to a refugee in Casablanca


Graduates meet to celebrate the joys
Of scientific research, music, art
Literature, cinema, theology –
Veritas et scientia for all

On shaded lawns in academic gowns
They exchange Shakespearean bon mots
And toast the future and good fellowship
While forming up for the processional

In fashionable scholarly regalia:
Flak jackets in academic colours

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


             If the President of South Africa Were to Visit My Home


                               “The contingency is remote, sir.”

                                        -as Jeeves would say


If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

(I hope he would ask us to call him Cyril)
We would offer him cookies and coffee and tea
And the best chair in the living room
Does he like dachshunds and Wodehouse and Shakespeare?

If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

We would show each other pictures of our children
And brag about their accomplishments
I’d like for him to see my little garden
The cherry tomatoes aren’t quite ready, though

If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

(The bathroom is down the hall, second door to the right)
I would be pleased if he admired my small library
He might give us his favourite recipe
We’d give him a sack of blueberries fresh off the bush

When we wave President Ramaphosa good-bye
I hope he will remember us with fondness

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


                                           Died While Trying

                                  (prompted by an idea by Nagi)


                     “Every day you play with the light of the universe”

                                                 -Neruda

          
The glory of killing an old man already dying
Is heralded by the clinking of colorful medals
As a president is helped into his Mercedes
By white-gloved lieutenants wearing golden aiguilettes

The old man dying in his bed was a challenge to evil
Through the love-letters of freedom he wrote to the world
Ambassadors of hope that could not be recalled
Just as a subtle injection cannot be withdrawn

A flowering of ideas in verses freely exchanged
Crushed beneath boots polished by frightened houseboys

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

                                 Blueberries Ripening in Love

A blueberry bush
Clusters of little blue orbs
Maybe tomorrow?

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

                   “I am Going to Call for a Major Investigation…”

                             -Our Red Queen on Truth [sic] Social


In Wonderland a new oppressive conjuration -  
His name is Major Investigation
Sent at our screaming queen’s instigation
To drag us all down to her police station

Beginning with Kamala, Oprah, and Bono
For somewhat disapproving of him – oh, no!
The Major will punish their laissez-majesto -
In the name of freedom their heads must go!

(But of course the irony in all this biz
Is that their heads are even larger than his)