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

                  Palm Sunday Processional and a Volkswagen

We’re along the four-lane, no village street
And so in the parking lot with our palms we meet
We begin our hymn at a Fiat, mama mia!
And step off from alongside my brother’s new Kia

I suppose we could sing, “O Cadillac, My Destiny”
While waving our fronds over a wingless Mercury
Watch your step; there’s a Honda Accord
Oh, look; I found a penny – praise the Lord!

We have only the four-lane, no village street
But at the church door we have Jesus to greet

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

                                                   God’s Wounds

                                     Sumy, Ukraine, Palm Sunday 2025

Ukraine wanted to welcome Jesus today
To welcome Him with the branches of willows
As is their custom on Palm Sunday, for they have no palms
But this holy day brought them Putin and bombs

Little children wanted to welcome Jesus today
They died with willows in their tiny hands
Burning in the wreckage, in their Sunday best
Sirens and explosions, screams and blood

The faithful of Sumy wanted to welcome Jesus today
But what Putin has written he has written -
                                               he has written them away

In elvish days of dwarven lore,
Where Érandūliendor flowed,
In times before the ancient war,

       A Lit. professor once geeked out.

The Lord of Darkness in his lair
Sent forth from his grotesque abode
His wingéd minions of the air;

And sorcery, both bright and black
As chanted low, in ancient rhyme,
Made all the eldritch runestones crack.

       Where’s my **** phone? Honey, you seen my phone?

And so the curse of Gôrgoron
Conjured before the dawn of time
Was loosed by Åthylmírmindon!

Whose epic stand against the foes
At Beremöthelenduíl
Wrought fabled fire from winter snows !

T’was thus the hill upon the ridge
Of Flõrÿmandðlemboríl
Caused me to go and check my fridge—

       Hey honey, if you’re going shopping could you pick me up a
        six-pack?Now where’s my elvish glossary? Thought it was on
        the armrest. **** this freaking deadline…

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

                               A Failure to Practice Caritas
                         for a Certain Fellow Human Being

                            "I have never wished a man dead,
           but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure."

                               -attributed to Mark Twain

When God's good time puts an end to that snake
And obsequies are read over that foul mistake
And the interment prayers are reverently spake
Oh, let us not forget the wooden stake