At Mass the Young Again are Crowned with Mantillas - poem

  

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 lady’s noble face

A gentlemen steps back a courtly pace

Giving honour to his lady and her crown of grace

Just Making Fun of the U.K. Dail Mail Again

 Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Just Making Fun of the U.K. Daily Mail Again:

If It’s on The InterGossip it Must be True

 

At all costs much the gift that keeps on giving much now let’s see there was this little German man with the moustache now what was his name oh yeah much oh wait much breaks cover much everyone is saying jaw-dropping much I’m a professional this is what you need to know much what REALLY happened much is strong in this one much game changer much secret nazi gold train found much Amelia Earhart found much Jimmy Hoffa’s false teeth found much Gilligan’s Island is a secret Chinese army base much  Elvis’ secret diary found much Marilyn Monroe and Walt Disney’s secret affair much the secret cure doctors don’t want you to know much apocalyptic glamour much chilling much shock scandal much stuns Wall Street much iconic much absolutely shocked trans nepo baby much dictator’s playbook much outrage fake alarm shock bombshell worst dressed much Meghan & Harry much packs on the PDA hellhole much gender reveal steamy toned abs much breaks silence much oh wait much firebrand much game changer there I fixed it for you much pot meet kettle much stay in your lane much across the pond much lives rent-free in his head much potentially much just sayin’ much? powder keg much ticking time bomb much cue the whatever in 3…2…1…much iconic much biblical proportions much LOL much books banned from the Bible rediscovered much secrets of Alcatraz rediscovered much Russia’s amber room rediscovered much OMG! much ptsd much jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping much much much

Stop Running - Senryu

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Stop Running

 

1 Kings 19

 

Stop searching. Hold still

Rest now under a broom tree

And He will find you

The Evil of Banality Arrests You in the Street - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

The Evil of Banality Arrests You in the Street

 

As Hannah Arendt did not exactly say

 

Handcuffs with their metallic efficiency

Leather-holstered on polished kinky-belts

Distinguish more a grab with their subtle cachet

Than low-Prole zip ties in disposable bags

 

The wrists of citizens handcuffed without warrants

By an official wrist encircled with

The gift of a Rolex from Mister Big

Who will never countenance the arrest of his sons

 

Handcuffs should click as tastefully, you see

As the door of an unmarked SUV

He Took a Photograph of an Unauthorized Number! - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

He Took a Photograph of an Unauthorized Number!

 

 

“Tear him to pieces; he is a conspirator!”

 

-First Plebeian, Julius Caesar III.iii.28

 

 

Can I avoid death threats if I simply say

I wish Mr. Trump would go away

To a luxurious golf course there to play

And peace on him may we safely pray

Bring Me the Head of Peter Rabbit - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Bring Me the Head of Peter Rabbit

 

My little dog has gotten into the habit

Of dining at dusk on delicious rabbit

 

Last night she blitzed past me as I opened the door

And left me a gift on the bedroom floor

 

I blinked when I saw at the foot of the bed

With its eyes still open – a poor rabbit’s head

 

Luna-Dog looked up and pawed at my knee

As if to ask, “Aren’t you proud of me?”

 

I reminded her gently (no need to fume)

That we take our meals in the dining room

Ghosted - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Ghosted

 

In the half-light before dawn I checked the mail

I don’t know why; maybe I was awaiting some truth

When shimmering on the MePhone’s sleep-obscured page

A message from a friend long dead appeared

 

He made a joke about the January moon

And mentioned a book he had begun to read

He asked about my slow progress through a book since misplace

And chided me for not keeping up with him

 

I want to find that book

Because on some happy morning beyond time

                                     he will ask me about it