Those who are born in night,
Fear the sun.
Those who are born in light,
Fear the sin.
Though, I fear them both,
For I was born amongst the twilight.

''Tiswas a lovely lark in the park this mid day
Crap coffee  at the fountain cafe
Hippy busking the standards
Every now and then
Slipping in one of his own tunes
And that's the mark
Cos he wants to know soon
If the stuff he spews is worth a second listen
He trills off everyone who stops
To stop and listen
He thinks that this could be his mission
And he wasent bad.

I'm attempting to not to be a *****
But good lord!
Where would one
Begin with that ****?
Who gets to define
The benign
What turns into
The reviled ?
And how would you deal with it?

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

        Why Do Widows Give Me Their Late Husbands’ Clothes?

When old men die their widows give me their clothes
(The old men’s clothes; not the widows’; let’s not get weird)
Nice pullover shirts, expensive blazers, everything goes
And ties to the 1970s geared

I am as Bob Newhart lost in an age
Of tattered tees and designer sneaks
Hardly the attire of a wise old sage
One of the last sartorial antiques

When old men die their widows give me their clothes
I look quite natty in them, I suppose

(The old men’s clothes, not the widows; let’s not get weird)

Today, early on a
Saturday morning, I'm
trying a little trick I
learned from Bukowski.
I put on some classical
music and I am trying
to write.
Beethoven's 5th in C minor.

I sit in my favorite chair and
watch my black cat lie on the
back of the loveseat and
watch the snowfall.
She looks triumphant,
but it could just be the music.
The philodendrons that hang
around the house and the
bamboo plants seem happier, too.
There's no hope for the palm tree.

Well, the main thing is that I put the
pen to paper, and Beethoven,
my cat and you came along for the
ride.

Maybe the cellos, violins, and
trombones will fertilize my
creativity.
Now, my other two cats have joined
the fun.
They wrestle by the heater and laugh at
all the fat, rich *******.

So many things that
words can never say
                •
Too many words that
just get in the way
                •