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

                              Bugging­ Gentlemen of a Certain Age

                                                      For Tod
                                     Who Waits for a Microchip

Oh, isn’t it awkward being passed along
Up and down confusing, fluorescent-lit corridors
From receptionist to nurse-practitioner
To technician to physician and back again

And given a little card with a clever graphic design
On one side and an appointment with
A different receptionist / nurse-practitioner / technician /
Physician in another time and place

The passings of time and people concluding with
A ruling from a venerable medical sage:
“Your heart is in good condition -
                                     for a man your age.”

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

                                         Builders of Empires

Great men of thought, of character and strength
Have built from time to time empires of industry
Empires of soldiers and sailors forcing conquests
Of ancient lands and nations for their own purposes

Great men have built ziggurats and stood upon them
Mapping the Dance of the sun, moon, and stars
Great men have written books, pondered the arts
And given us the empires of the mind

But a man alone in his cell telling his beads
Builds better and forever, for all of us

(In context “man” is gender-neutral. As Samuel Johnson would say, “And there’s an end on’t.”)

(“Empires of the mind” references a speech by Churchill at Harvard in 1943.)

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

                 Building a Fence and Smoking Cigarettes

I passed two men who were building a fence
Cigarettes on their lips, work-stained old hats
Spirit level, carpenter square, calculations
The morning frost hard-worked into honest sweat

I passed two men who were building a fence
Its posts and rails strong-muscled into place
And hammered against the autumn hurricanes
With nails of steel, extruded steel, bright steel

I passed two men who were building a fence
With hands and tools and strength and uncommon sense

Bulletproof School Backpacks...

                DeLuxe model with emojis and a charging port

School days, school days
Dear old shooting drill days
Coding and walkouts and smart pad functions
Taught to a federal court’s latest injunctions
You were my queen in tats (Day-Glo®)
I was your Trump at every gun show
You carved in my skin “i luv U ‘n’ Che Guevara so”
When we were a couple of latch-key kids




As of 3 August 2019 bulletproof backpacks were not on the approved list for the Texas Comptroller’s tax-free school supplies weekend; bulletproof vests are on the list as taxable (https://comptroller.texas.gov/taxes/publications/98-490/clothing-footwear.php).

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Bullets Do Not Whine

Bullets do not whine as they pass one by
Nor do they

Clang
Zing
Ching
Sing
Whizz
Zip
Zap
Zow
Pow
Pew
Pop

What they really say, quite loudly, is
“S*!”

Light fog, dense air - how should one think of them
The sun – he seems to be holding his breath
Until, oh, nine or so, when he exhales
Soul-******* heat upon the steaming earth

The Massey-Ferguson sits patiently
Through all those dawn-lit diagnostic chores:
Check the oil, check the gas, and **** the points
Safety checks all ‘round before the mowing begins

Old hat, old gloves, old boots, a fresh cigar
And old eyes focused on a field afar

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

                    Butch and Sundance: The Latest Remake

                      Union Pacific: Train Robberies Up 356%...
                                           -News Item

Narrator, old cowboy geezer sitting on the porch and smoking his pipe:

Well, now, Butch and Sundance (I’ll tell you no lies)
Stop the U.P. right in its trackages
And glaring at the passengers one of ‘em cries:
“All y’all hand over yer Amazon packages!”

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

                          .553 / Free to Be / Dead, You See

                     "Sheathe your sword, Morville,
                     before you impale your soul upon it."

                              -Richard Burton as Becket

When this weapon blows a child’s head off
Don’t worry about that trifle
For the AR technically
Is not an assault rifle

These hours are not The Age of Trump, oh, no
Nor yet the age of McDonald’s arches
Turned upside down like pendant parts spilt from
The four-color process of a ******* mag

All time is God’s, and as a gift to you
May be employed in work and play as you
Think best in gratitude for all the light
That falls upon your acts, your arts, your loves

Whatever else, this is an age of you
In quest for the good, the beautiful, and
                                                        the true

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

                                             But, Hey, No King

The most lawless ruler is a Man of the People
Posturing upon some whited balcony
His pouting lips frozen in a perpetual sneer
While his toadies cheer their *******, and call it freedom

The semi-automatic rifle is their Bible
Barbed wire is their semi-automatic law
The Constitution is but the president’s whims
          (Let us now pray
          for his bowel movements today)

Congress and the Supreme Court with feet of clay
Await in fear, in disgrace, in moral decay
For a Murat to come and brush them away:

                                  “Citizens, you are dismissed.”

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hellopoetry.com­


                   But His Airplane Features Gold Seatbelt Buckles

     Trump calls for removal of every top official investigating him
                                               -The Hill

Article II, Section 2

Before he enter the Execution of his office

“District Attorney Bragg is a danger to our Country,

He shall take the following Oath or Affirmation:-

and should be removed immediately,

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will

along with Radical Lunatic Bombthrower Jack Smith,

Faithfully execute the Office of President

who is harassing and intimidating innocent people

Of the United States, and will to the best

at levels not seen before, ‘Get Trump’ Letitia James,

Of my Ability preserve, protect, and defend

the worst Attorney General in the United States,

The Constitution of the United States.

and Atlanta D.A. Fani Willis, who is trying to make PERFECT phone calls into a plot to destroy America, but reigns over the most violent Crime Scene in America, and does nothing about it!

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

                   But Mom, All the Cool Kids are into Genocide!

                       “Students! Be the Fuhrer’s Propagandists!”

          **** poster ca. 1933, per Library of Congress: [Studenten seid
          Propagandisten des Führers Hoch-u. Fachschulen bekennen
          sich am 29. März zur Deutschen Freiheitsbewegung /
          (loc.gov)]

All the cool kids are into genocide
Slogans and posters and bullhorns and cries
Abandoning their studies to march outside
And scream the same 2,000-year-old lies

The InterGossip commands, and they obey
Blocking the streets and clenching each fist
Waving misspelt signs and yelling all day
Never pausing to ask if there’s something they’ve missed

Am I a hollow echo for some sycophant’s squall?
Will I fail to think for myself at all?

A Loss of Vision

                      As we grow older we grow honester,
                      that's something.

                             -Yevtushenko, “Zima Junction”

I drove a friend to his ophthalmologist
When I walked him into the office
He could perceive only light and shadow
After we left, some four hours later

He could read the fine print on his McDonald's coffee cup

Miracle. Laser surgery. Miracle.

The McDonald's was our third place to try
For coffee; the first two chains were empty and wrecked
Lake Charles is still a mess after hurricane-curses
This summer, with wreckage everywhere, street signs gone

Houses blasted and empty, shops blasted and empty
Work crews along some streets, silence along others

Dear Leader never bothered to notice
The new Dear Leader won't bother to notice
They send our children overseas to bomb people
And build them new infrastructure and then

Bomb everything again

We are trying to be good Americans
Our golf-course presidents and
Keyboard-kommando generalissimos
And feeble Merovingian Congress

Fist-bump each other

Only my friend has his vision again

“Ransomware Cripples Cities”

                            -a common headline

Ransomware never crippled an Olivetti
But a broken spring did so once or twice
So I carried the old machine to old Bill
Whose magic always made it fly again

Ransomware never crippled a cardboard file
Nor yet the flyleaf of the book in which
She wrote the kindest sentiment of love
In the sweet optimism of our youth

Ransomware never crippled who we were -
I did that to us when I walked away

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

                               But She’s not my Wife

Most nights I go to bed with Agatha Christie
My wife and dog are quite okay with that

But the Animals were First

“We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner,
and the *** the master’s crib….’”

-Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas

The ox and *** are in the Stable set
In service divine, as good Isaiah writes
A congregation of God’s creatures met
In honor of their King this Night of nights

And there they wait for us, for we are late
Breathless in the narthex of eternity
A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate
Have led us to this holy liturgy:

Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet
The ox and *** are in the Stable set

But the Animals were First

“We read in Isaiah: ‘The ox knows its owner,
and the *** the master’s crib….’”

-Papa Benedict, The Blessings of Christmas

The ox and *** are in the Stable set
In service divine, as good Isaiah writes
A congregation of God’s creatures met
In honor of their King this Night of nights

And there they wait for us, for we are late
Breathless in the narthex of eternity
A star, a road, a town, an inn, a gate
Have led us to this holy liturgy

Long centuries and seasons pass, and yet
The ox and *** are in the Stable set

For Isaac Babel

Babel, you hated Russian, Pole, and Jew
You wrote as you were told, in ink all Red
You wrote the same old bigotry, nothing new
In gratitude dear Stalin shot you dead

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                         ­      But Truly Write

                                   Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 21

                    …poems are gatherings of words, in good order, in
                    simple order, plain and appealing.

                          -Mary Oliver, A Poetry Handbook, p. 77

A line of contemporary prosetry
Is a catalogue of florid structures and worn-out cliches
Pancaked with adverbs and tiresome metaphors
Flung down in a confusion of unconnected gasps

If you have something to say, then say it
Then tidy up the lines – like washing your face
With soap and water and a cotton towel
And then admire the sunlit, fresh-air truth

Craft your lines of transcendent poetry
As clean sharp-edg’ed truth in well-scrubbed words

A Maledictory

V:
I am #allin for My Jesus and for me
In my position here I accomplished
Many wonderful things (see attachment)
To the glory of My Jesus and of me

R:
But what about the dead body in the parking lot?

V:
I have always been #allin for the children
Now look forward to more time with my family
And with My Jesus (#allin for Jesus)
And sharing my life’s passions with the world

R:
But what about the dead body in the parking lot?

V:
Because if you believe it you can dream it
I’m #allin for My Jesus. And the children

R:
But what about the dead body in the parking lot?

But What About the Dog?

Bedtime is a poem written with love:
You change into your jammies at 8 o’clock
You wash your hands and face, you brush your teeth
You kneel beside your bed and say your prayers

And then the dog leaps up onto your pillow
And then your mother says the dog can’t stay
And then you plead, and doggie looks so sad
And then your mother sighs and says, “All right,

“But only for tonight,” then kisses you

(but not the dog)

Childhood is a poem written with love

The last of the autumn apples, perhaps
Or the long-ago love that passed us by
Never falling to the Telescopic Fruit Picker
From Garrett Wade, $37.50

(I’ve got one of those, and it works just fine)

Or maybe pears, ‘way up among the leaves
Where dreams of better days to come were lost
To the old and tattered bushel-basket
That rotted away in the tractor shed

Then was it wrong to look high up for truth
That flew beyond our reach, our sight, our hopes?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                             But Who Else Could You Be?

                              Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 13

O that I were myself? Of course I am
Who else could I possibly want to be?
No one rocks a morning mirror like me
(and probably no one wants to do so)

My beloved mother said I was special
(I think that was a compliment – maybe?)
And you’re pretty nifty yourself, you know -
I like the cut of your metaphorical jib

And we are ourselves, of course we are -
Eccentrics together, following a star!

But Yevtushenko...

                      A tribute to Penguin paperbacks

When they
Someday
Take us away
For reading
For thinking
For writing

Those Penguin paperbacks all tattered and taped
Discovered when they empty our pockets
          Will
Be used against us in their courts of law

But Yevtushenko might corrupt our jailers

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

                        The Man Can Execute a Snappy Salute

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute
Though he never made the first day of boot camp
Maybe he learned to salute from watching Patton
Or John Wayne movies, over and over

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute
Even while propped up by his briefcase boys
Showing off his practiced thousand-yard stare
While thirteen flag-covered coffins are carried by

By God, the man can execute a snappy salute -
And the brave young people who trusted him

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

          By Reading This Content You Agree to Our Privacy Policy


             It was terribly dangerous to let your thoughts wander
             when you were…within range of a telescreen.

                                                 -Orwell, 1984


But your privacy? Nah; deal with it, you see
Baked beans, magazines and mountain scenes
Vacation trips and handy houseware tips -
They see you, they know you, they hunt you

Podcasts, partisan views, gossipy news
Engine parts, how-to vids, and funny kids
Treating head lice, tax advice, dancing mice
They see you, they know you, they hunt you

Through your made-in-Shanghai Palantir
Adverts will forever make you fear,
                                                           ­         My Precious

(“Palantir” is here an allusion to Tolkien’s genius, not to the software people.)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

         By Reading This Content You Agree to Our Privacy Policy


          It was terribly dangerous to let your thoughts wander
          when you were…within range of a telescreen.

                                             -Orwell, 1984


But your privacy? Nah; deal with it, you see
Baked beans, magazines and mountain scenes
Vacation trips and handy houseware tips -
They see you, they know you, they hunt you

Podcasts, partisan views, gossipy news
Engine parts, how-to vids, and funny kids
Treating head lice, tax advice, dancing mice
They see you, they know you, they hunt you

Through your made-in-Shanghai Palantir
Adverts will forever make you fear,
                         My Precious



(“Palantir” is here an allusion to Tolkien’s genius, not to the software people.)

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


                                    ­        Café’ Renee’

                      Listen very carefully; I shall say this only once.

                                    -Michelle of the Resistance

Café Renee’ is still open in Nouvion
Close to the coast, except when it isn’t
In a petit monde of possibilities
Even when the outside world is going wrong

Let us find a table close enough to hear
Lieutenant Geering and Colonel von Strom
Whispering conspiracies about paintings and plots
Until Madame Edith screeches out a song

Renee’ brings us a cognac as always
And we know the fun is about to begin

“…and thence to a thing that peers in at bedroom and bathroom windows, and thence to a toad, and finally a snake – such is the progress of Satan.”

- C.S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost

When your last psychographic micro-target
Has through our digital operations
Been processed by multiple data teams
As enhanced predictability models

Standard data analytics suggest
That scraping data from your thoughts, your words
The way you touch the screen may sting a little
But we know what is best for you hashtag

Cross-referenced, analyzed, and synthesized
And vacuum-sealed into a Golden Age

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

                           Camellia Sinensis Dancing

Anyone who bangs on about the nuances
And the complex properties of tea
Loose leaves, filtered water, thermometers
How a slurp is superior to a sip

The low-Prole vulgarity of teabags
Assessing the full body of the tea
Then teasing out the flavour of the tea
(Camellia Sinensis dancing a striptease?)

Is a barbarian.
                         Just pour me out
A good cuppa char from the old Brown Betty

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

                        Camouflage in Trump Country

I walk into the cafe’ wearing a boonie hat
Although the boonies were fifty years ago
But I don’t look like a worthy comrade -
In Trump country you need good camouflage

I walk into the store wearing a barn coat
Although I have never owned a barn
But I don’t look like an NRA-rade -
In Trump country you need good camouflage

A patriot shouldn’t need to be a mirage
but -
In Trump country you need good camouflage

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

                                   The Bowre of Blisse

               Goodly it was enclos’ed rownd about,
               As well their entered guests to keep within,
               As those unruly beasts to hold without;
               Yet was the fence thereof but weake and thin

            -Spenser, The Faerie Queene, Book II, Canto XII

While much of the world is bleeding and burnt
Democracy takes a summer holiday
Far away in Maryland’s gentle woods and hills
Where the screams of tortured children cannot be heard

Among the gardened and guarded streams and trees
Elderly men are guided in their play
By smiling minders gentle in their words
And ready with the proper remedies

While those who code are kept carefully near
To sweeten the words the old gentlemen hear

Camping on the Edge of Forever

For HM3 Michael Dean Marconett, USN

of happy memory

Wild stars, beyond a Sterno stove’s tame glow,
We’ll live forever as we live this night:
Coffee and cigarettes and comradeship,
Our backs against the sun-warmed Sierras
As the cold falls from infinite darkness
To keep the snow in place another night,
To smile in ancient silence back at you,
To make a glowing, slumberous twilight until dawn.
Those C-rations were good after a day
Of scrambling among prehistoric rocks
Made musical by the dinosaur creek,
Water as cold as the dark end of time.
San Diego glows in the south-southwest,
Silently, inefficiently, light lost.
But you, wild, happy star, will still shine down
On dreaming youths, tonight and other nights,
Counting for us, for them, each millennium.

Camping on the Edge of Forever

For Michael Dean Marconette
of happy memory

Bold star, beyond a Sterno stove’s brief glow,
We’ll live forever as we live this night:
Coffee and cigarettes and comradeship,
Our backs against the sun-warmed Sierras
As the cold falls from infinite darkness
To keep the snow in place another night,
To smile in ancient silence back at you,
To make a glowing, slumberous twilight until dawn.
Those C-rations were good after a day
Of scrambling among pre-historic rocks
Made musical by the dinosaur creek,
Water as cold as the dark end of time.
San Diego glows in the south-southwest,
Silently, inefficiently, light lost.
But you, dear, happy star, will still shine down
On dreaming youths, tonight and other nights,
Counting for us, for them, each millennium.

For Mike Marconett

                                  of happy memory

Bright star, beyond a Sterno stove’s brief glow,
We’ll live forever as we live this night:
Coffee and cigarettes and comradeship,
Our backs against the sun-warmed Sierras
As the cold falls from infinite darkness
To keep the snow in place another night,
To smile in ancient silence back at you,
To make a glowing, slumberous twilight until dawn.
Those C-rations were good after a day
Of scrambling among pre-historic rocks
Made musical by the dinosaur creek,
Water as cold as the dark end of time.
San Diego glows in the south-southwest,
Silently, inefficiently, light lost.
But you, dear, happy star, will still shine down
On dreaming youths, tonight and other nights,
Counting for us, for them, each millennium.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com


                              Camp Pendleton in Springtime

                            Field Medical Service School, 1968


There was no warmth in our sleeping bags
Spring rain sluiced down the dark and through our tents
Decaying tents from the Second World War
The Corps would spend no money on tents or us

But we were young, and playing at war was fun
We kept our rifles dry but nothing else
And yarned throughout the cold and soggy nights
Long days and nights mud-fighting the VC

Sometimes an hour or two of soggy sleep
But in my pocket, warm words from my favorite poet

(Happy 150th, Canada!)


Canada Day -  Just One?

With love from an ‘umble Yank

But every day is Canada Day!

The afternoon plane lands in Halifax
When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in
Even the fog is happy in Canada

The Muskogee never made landfall here
And so we pilgrimage for her, complete
Her voyage from ’42 to Canada

Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement
The Deportation Cross and beer cans
Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway

Newfoundland
Is a bold
Anapest

The church spires in a line, the light is green
The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild
Can you find your way to your painted house?

To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland
And smell the very blue of the Atlantic
The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada

Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”

Quebec – royal city of New France
May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham,
And may God bless
The signs an English driver cannot read

The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls
Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs
And buy them, happy to be in Canada

A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place
But to us in your southern provinces
Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada

Though Canada goes on, these scribbles must not -
Your grateful guest wishes only to say
That every happy day is Canada Day!

Canada Day?  Just One?

With love from an ‘umble Yank

But every day is Canada Day!

The afternoon plane lands in Halifax
When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in
Even the fog is happy in Canada

The Muskogee 1 never made landfall here
And so we pilgrimage for her, completing
Her voyage from ’42 to Canada

Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement
The Deportation Cross and beer cans
Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway

Newfoundland
Is a bold
Anapest

The church spires in a line, the light is green
The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild
Can you find your way to your painted house?

To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland
And smell the very blue of the Atlantic
The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada

Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”

Quebec – royal city of New France
May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham,
And may God bless
The signs an English driver cannot read

The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls
Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs
And buy them, happy to be in Canada

A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place
But to us in your southern provinces
Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada

Though Canada goes on, these scribbles must not –

Your grateful guest wishes only to say
That every happy day is Canada Day!

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

                             Cancelling the InterGossip Service

And how are you today I am so very glad to hear that thank you sir you have paid today so we won’t be able to cancel the service until next month I am so glad to hear that we need a mailing address so that we can send you a box for the equipment thank you sir no a post office box won’t do I am sorry sir you are breaking up yes sir let me read that back to you thank you sir let me verify your account number that is correct and thank you I will need your zip code will you repeat that thank you but our records show that your service address is oh that is not it please tell me again thank you sir I will read it back to you thank you sir you will have thirty days from the twenty-seventh of next month to return the equipment in the box we will provide to you at your mailing address and I have that mailing address so thank you sir if you will wait two minutes while I access your file thank you sir and I will need your mailing address oh I see I have that sir for the equipment return thank you sir which will cost you $350 if it is not returned thank you sir and now I must read you this list now if you have any questions if you will please wait two minutes thank you sir and may I ask why you are discontinuing service and are you moving sir if you will wait two minutes while I update your records thank you sir and I have your mailing address and may I ask why you are discontinuing service with us oh I am so sorry sir but did they tell you it is fibre optic I understand sir before we go I want to advise you that because you are a long-time customer we have a special offer thank you sir I am happy to have helped you sir and I hope you have a good rest of the day

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

                   Can Internet Service Providers be Saved?

                      Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

                                     -Leonard Cohen

Multiple Voices from an ISP:

Our order support team reported back…
you had 2 work orders. Your work order with us
has been cancelled and the email you forwarded
to me is the installation group you will need
to contact about scheduling. Sorry…We have received
this work order that was already scheduled for 5/8
morning. There are no notes from any dispatcher
speaking to you and changing the appointment
date/time. Below are the notes on the account
and no appointment changes have been made.
Called to t/s modem; modem is offline…
t/s modem is offline…Upgrade for
the Unlimited Bronze 12…set expectations…
I do not know who this sales group is. They
do state you are scheduled for 5/4 but the work
order they sent to the 3rd party installer
shows your [sic] scheduled for 5/8. We do not
have techs in your area tomorrow…I have sent
your account to the order support team…Your appointment
scheduled [sic] has been updated…Changes have been made
to your ViaSat account.

API INSERT (Note) 04/30/2021 11:01:56 AM CDT BEP scheduling work order during creation. API UPDATE (Schedule Date) 04/30/2021 11:01:56 CDT Unscheduled Unassigned API INSERT (Note) 04/30/2021 11:01:53 AM CDT

Installation notes…Our records indicate…
We need to confirm your appointment…Your appointment
schedule has been updated…as your preferred date
could not be accommodated. We sincerely apologize…
We have been trying to reach you with the number you provided…
We have received your work order and would like to confirm…
Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message
to the following address…Your Viasat Internet
payment failed…Payment has not been received…
If you do not make a full payment soon…
relaying denied…To avoid interruption
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Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                         ­    Methodist Pecans

Methodist pecans

Connie-the-Haircut-Queen sells us pecans
Every Christmas, good Methodist pecans
A fundraiser sponsored by the women’s club
To be baked into cookies and pies for Christmas day

Methodist pecans

They used to come from my grandfather’s trees
But now they’re grown and gathered somewhere else
Packaged in plastic, certified, and sealed
But still they’re good Methodist pecans

Methodist pecans

And in January when the hail-storms rattle
Stuffed in a barn-coat pocket while tracking cattle

Methodist pecans - Texas blessed and Texas’ best!

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

                   Can W- Writ- Anything Without th- L-tt-r –?

                                   Irritabl- Vow-l Syndrom-

Th-y say that-nglish is a difficult languag-
I wouldn’t know; it’s th- only on- I know
-nglish, that is, and it’s a lif—long study
But that’s okay; it k--ps m- out of the b--r joints

In -nglish w- hav- only six or so vow-ls –
A, -, I, O, U, Y, and that vagu- “ih” sound
Which m-ans that rhym- is a chall-g- in tim-
Though “How now, brown cow?” works out okay

That is, if on- wants to gr--t a cow at all
I s-ldom do, but how about you?

I tried to capture my authentic voice
My inner voice, my true-something-me-ness
But the little ****** is elusive
And free it remains, wild and free, to this night

So I deploy an inauthentic voice
An outer voice, only maybe it’s not;
Perhaps it’s an Hegelian dialectic
A voice cobbled together from castoffs

On a sale-table down at Goodwill, I found
A gently-used voice – so how do I sound?

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

                                 Cardiac Clinic Consulting Room

One’s bubble goes off-bubble a few degrees
For now there is nothing to do but sit and wait
No longer in control of anything
“Is there in your family any history of…?”

Pleasant young people in scrubs come and go
With papers and charts and machines that buzz
And in between the book is open but unread
While silent morning light louvres across the walls

The doctor enters with paperwork and optimism:
There are still possibilities in life

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                     The High Priest Kisses King Herod’s (Hands)

                         His Eminence the Cardinal of New York

The High Priest kisses King Herod’s (hands)
And joins him for a feast of mockeries and lies
Giving the tyrant for his crimes a pass
Laughing at Truth as civilization dies

Over lobster and beef they pity the poor
While robed in white ties and evening gowns
And silken ecclesiastical couture
(One of them has visions of papal crowns)

Gluttony and scorn at a rented manse -
All that is missing is Salome’s dance

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim’s Journal of Life, Literature and Love
Fellowship & Fairydust (fellowshipandfairydust.com)
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

               Carpenters, Electricians, Plumbers, and Pom-Poms

And sometimes I hear
Professional craftsmen gossiping
Like cheerleader sponsors

Cassandra and Simon

Rose and Neil eloped to America
Mrs. Blossom is forever silent now
Mortmain in solitude emends his drafts
And Topaz dances under the summer moon

Even The Shape seems to have withdrawn itself
From Godsend Castle, where Cassandra writes
Shaping into meaning the wreckages
For she will build a life true to herself

Whether or not Simon ever returns
But wait – the foot of the lane – those car lights…

Catholic Calisthenics

(Stations of the Cross)

Make the sign of the cross stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand

Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand
Turn stand kneel sit stand turn stand kneel sit stand

V: This is rather rough on my creaky old bones
R: Remember, old man, it’s not about you

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            “Catholics, You’ve Got to Vote for Me.”

                               -Mr. Trump at the Al Smith Dinner

Mr. Trump does not speak for me.
Cardinal Dolan does not speak for me.
The local bishop speaks only at me
And they all want money from me