rain beats on the roof
heavy metal symphony
the mosh pit is still.

There is no magic potion
Or Spell or Hex required
No Doctrine 
Or Approbation
Or Degree to be acquired
There is no formula or recipe
Modus Operandi 
Ritual or Rite
No red tape 
No routine
No code words to recite
You can bring your baggage 
Or leave it
Or I can help you to retrieve it
And unpack it
Or unload it
Me of mine
You’ll help relieve it

It’s just love Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you

Just love me Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you

No one loves
a wilted balloon.

Chin up,
they say
You may float again soon.

Who will offer their air
to the wilted balloon

As she stays earth-bound
And dreams of the moon?

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

                               II.  And There Was Smoke Indeed

                                    Leo XIV blessed us today

And there was smoke indeed, in clouds and waves
Great heaps of hopes and prayers and expectations
For now, perhaps unexamined petitions and prayers
So if we cheer for him today, will we ignore him tomorrow?

Let us not lay our contradictions upon him
Asking of him what we are not willing to give
Even a poor basket with some loaves and fish
Or a veil to wipe away the tears of suffering

Now blessed is the humble man who braves
That smoke as it roils in clouds and waves

Is there anything more permanent ?
Is there anything more vain ?
For surely the word we call last
Will outlast all our attempts to change

Today, It's mother's day...
Beautiful flowers, wishes, gifts,gratitide.
But what about tomorrow?
The world moves on...

Where did the respsect go?
Where did the grateful words hide?
It Faded away right?
Just like the echoes of the loud wishes.

But what about the pain of nine months?
What about the scarifices of the endless nights?
It's all gone right?
Just like the whispers of promises.

Hoping for a symphony
Expecting just a penny whistle.
Praying for a miracle
Getting a vague promise.
Looking for the Hollyhocks
Finding wilted daisies.

Offering a helping hand
Finding no one needs one.
Asking for a helping hand
No one reaches out to me.
Giving one last urgent try
I write my number on the wall.

And hunker down behind a hedge
To see if anybody reads it.
Or if they only walk on by
Pursuing other goals and visions
That have no bearing on my needs
And leave me here with hands outreaching.
ljm

The poets dwell
within their Hell
on a Sabbath day
witching hour

Their minds a wreck
Their hands  
of tech
They grind their teeth
in angst

Silence staid
The beds unmade
Searching for who
knows what

Snaps a pencil
It's indefensible
He can't go back
to bed

Quasimodo?
Was he noble ?
Played center for
Notre Dame

Came draft day
He was cast away
Which foot was it
you ask ?

Well the venom's drip
that sank a ship
Manned by mushroom
brained morons

Will be the first
to experience the worst
That trickles down
that piggies leg

"We all live in a yellow submarine"
It's just another "Day in the life"
After all happiness is a
warm warm gun