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

                               Bishops Who Roared Like Lions

Your Grace:

There have been bishops who have roared like lions
But your demeanor is that of a house pet
Please rise from your couch in Caesar’s triclinium
And return to the streets to serve God’s people

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

                                              What Did He Say?

She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap
When we arrived to drive her to an appointment
In a large building in the center of town


The doctor said something about stage 2


She had little to say as we drove away
And when we left her at her home again
She sat on the porch with her big orange cat
All cuddled up happily in her lap

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

                 Child Injured after Accidentally Shooting Himself

                                                       -headline

I’m sorry, Daddy
I didn’t mean to bleed all over the rug
I’m sorry, Daddy
It really hurts
I’m sorry, Daddy
I only wanted to play with your favorite toy
I’m sorry, Daddy
Why is everybody yelling?
I’m sorry, Daddy
I don’t feel good, Daddy…

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

                       The New Poets of England and America


                        Young poetry is the breath of parted lips.

                                    -Robert Frost, introduction
                         The New Poets of England and America


They’re no longer new; they’re not even alive
Those post-war young voices of strength and hope
Working through the wastelands after men of destiny
Blitzed beauty with bullets, bombers, and barbed wire

Some of them soldiers, and war-weary all
They were worn out, but determined and young
Digging out the words they had hidden away
Cleaning them up for service to humanity

They were young; they were very much like you
Doing their duty as artists and poets must do


The New Poets of England and America
Ed. Donald Hall et al
Introduction by Robert Frost
New York: Meridian Books, 1957

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

                                     The True First Day of Summer

                                “This is the day the Lord hath made…”

When teachers fold their leathery wings and sleep
Hidden away in their bat-cave deep
In the darkness where foul things lurk and creep -
Only then may children freely laugh and leap

No more tiresome lessons about “lie” and “lay’
A child may lie in the glass or lay in the hay
Run out to the lawns and fields to play
And joy in the freedom of each summer day

The 20th of June? A fallacious rule -
Summer begins on the last day of school!

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

                                The Texas Sanhedrin


          Sponsored by Sen. Phil King, a Republican from Weatherford,            
          the bill requires every classroom to visibly display a poster [of
          The Ten Commandments] sized at least 16 by 20 inches. The
          poster can’t include any text other than the language laid out
          in the bill, and no other similar posters may be displayed.

                   -Ten Commandments in every classroom:
                    Texas bill nearing law | The Texas Tribune


Our legislature suppresses the pilgrims’ way
They’ve established a government church; we must obey
And from its edicts free Texans dare not stray
(Though the lawmakers work on the Sabbath day!)

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

                                       At the Barracks Gate


                  “Underneath the lantern by the barracks gate”

                                                 -"Lili Marlene"


There were two lanterns at our barracks gate
After standing inspection for Cinderella Liberty
We passed beneath them to catch the Number 7 bus
Past Balboa’s eucalyptus trees, into downtown

Where sins of the flesh awaited our E-1 fantasies
But instead we went to Mass, found a coffee shop
Nervously walked along Lower Broadway
Tried desperately to look like old salts

Carefully stayed away from Lili Marlene
And ‘phoned our parents from the lobby of the U. S. Grant

Lawrence Hall 1d
"And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea"
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               “And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea”


               For A.V on the Happy Occasion of Her Graduation


I hope and believe that at Harvard still
In the springtime of their golden youth
Lovers sit upon the lawn’s green morning grass
Before class
                           and read Shelley to each other

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 noble lady’s face
A gentlemen steps back a courtly pace
Giving honour to his lady and her crown of grace

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 noble lady’s face
A gentlemen steps back a courtly pace
Giving honour to his lady and her crown of grace

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

                               “And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea”


               For A.V on the Happy Occasion of Her Graduation


I hope and believe that at Harvard still
In the springtime of their golden youth
Lovers sit upon the lawn’s green morning grass
Before class
                           and read Shelley to each other

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

                                               I Miss Kosher Sam’s

Wish I could remember what street it was on
It’s been so long ago, when Kosher Sam’s
Was my coffee shop, and I was young
One day I also ordered a slice of cake

The cheerful waitress asked me how it tasted
I suggested that maybe it was a little bit dry
She grabbed it up and rushed it to the kitchen
She and another waitress and The Sam Himself

They took clean forks and tasted and talked about it
They took more forks and tasted and talked again
And appeared to come to a mishpat at last
Sam brought to me what was left of the cake

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he firmly ruled
I took and ate (tho’ it really was a little dry)
On an evil day I left San Diego
I wish I’d stopped to say goodbye to Kosher Sam’s

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

                          With Connections He Could Have Been
                              a Member of the President's Cabinet

“No.”
My first, my only word to him was “no”
He had shuffled to the table, shaking and shuffling
Aquiver with the sickening spasms of drugs
He turned, he slammed a table, he shuffled away

“No.”
The waitress watched at the window ‘til he was gone
“He used to come in and ask for breakfast,” she said.
“We gave him breakfast for cleaning the parking lot
But then he started stealing stuff from the back”

“No.”
He might have been Jesus. But I don’t think so
More men walk the roads. The waitress sports tattoos

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


           Take Cover! We’re Celebrating Intellectual Achievements!


                         “These papers expired three weeks ago.
                          You’ll have to come with us.”

            -a colonial police officer to a refugee in Casablanca


Graduates meet to celebrate the joys
Of scientific research, music, art
Literature, cinema, theology –
Veritas et scientia for all

On shaded lawns in academic gowns
They exchange Shakespearean bon mots
And toast the future and good fellowship
While forming up for the processional

In fashionable scholarly regalia:
Flak jackets in academic colours

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


             If the President of South Africa Were to Visit My Home


                               “The contingency is remote, sir.”

                                        -as Jeeves would say


If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

(I hope he would ask us to call him Cyril)
We would offer him cookies and coffee and tea
And the best chair in the living room
Does he like dachshunds and Wodehouse and Shakespeare?

If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

We would show each other pictures of our children
And brag about their accomplishments
I’d like for him to see my little garden
The cherry tomatoes aren’t quite ready, though

If President Ramaphosa were to visit us at home

(The bathroom is down the hall, second door to the right)
I would be pleased if he admired my small library
He might give us his favourite recipe
We’d give him a sack of blueberries fresh off the bush

When we wave President Ramaphosa good-bye
I hope he will remember us with fondness

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


                                           Died While Trying

                                  (prompted by an idea by Nagi)


                     “Every day you play with the light of the universe”

                                                 -Neruda

          
The glory of killing an old man already dying
Is heralded by the clinking of colorful medals
As a president is helped into his Mercedes
By white-gloved lieutenants wearing golden aiguilettes

The old man dying in his bed was a challenge to evil
Through the love-letters of freedom he wrote to the world
Ambassadors of hope that could not be recalled
Just as a subtle injection cannot be withdrawn

A flowering of ideas in verses freely exchanged
Crushed beneath boots polished by frightened houseboys

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

                                 Blueberries Ripening in Love

A blueberry bush
Clusters of little blue orbs
Maybe tomorrow?

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

                   “I am Going to Call for a Major Investigation…”

                             -Our Red Queen on Truth [sic] Social


In Wonderland a new oppressive conjuration -  
His name is Major Investigation
Sent at our screaming queen’s instigation
To drag us all down to her police station

Beginning with Kamala, Oprah, and Bono
For somewhat disapproving of him – oh, no!
The Major will punish their laissez-majesto -
In the name of freedom their heads must go!

(But of course the irony in all this biz
Is that their heads are even larger than his)

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

                                                Stop Running

                                                   1 Kings 19

Stop searching. Hold still
Rest now under the broom tree
And He will find you

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

                       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 **** 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 *** 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 ***! much ptsd much jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping jaw dropping much much much

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 the dining room

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

               He Took a Photograph of a Forbidden 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

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

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

               One Shouldn’t Complain – But I’m Going to Complain


           It will not bother me in the hour of death to reflect that I have
           been “had for a sucker”…but it would be a torment to know
           that (I) had refused even one person in need.

                               -C. S. Lewis, Letters to an American Lady


Do you sometimes feel that you are on call
Twenty-five hours a day, on days you don’t even have
For all the needs and moods and whims and wants
Of clingy people who disapprove of you anyway?

When you come in from work, someone needs a ride
When you wake up at dawn, someone’s battery is dead
Someone needs a ten – could you make it a twenty?
And say, could you take my kid to school today?

For you The Golden Rule is a golden letter -
Still, everyone agrees, you could have helped them better

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

                                      The Evil of Banality

                       As Hannah Arendt did not exactly say

Handcuffs with their metallic efficiency
Leather-holstered on polished *****-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

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

                        Sherri’s Husband’s Grandfather’s Sandwich

                                     Memories of Our Grandfathers

                                  With gratitude to Sherri Woodman

A sandwich all wrapped up for a fishing trip
That was never taken, a receipt for a hat
From a clothing store closed long ago
His pocket knife, a note, some coins, some keys

His driving license due for renewal next month
The Hemingway book you gave him for Christmas
His typewriter (“They don’t make ‘em like that anymore”)
An unfinished fishing fly still in the vise

A paper bag of his little odds and ends
And each a happy memory that never ends

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

                               Tea: A Ceremony of Civilisation


               "Would you like an adventure, or would you like
               to have your tea first?"

                                                     -Peter Pan


England

Tea! Glorious cups of tea! For you and me!
Tea from the ***, strong and wonderfully hot!
Sandwiches with ham, butter and toast and jam
And before the washing-up, another cup!

China

Tea. Meditative tea, a thoughtful sea
Tea softly, softly brewed, a gentle mood
An invocation lifted, philosophy sifted
A liturgy free of any urgency

South of the 49th parallel

Gimme that jug off the grocery store shelf
I ain’t got no time to brew it myself

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

                     Standards Must be Maintained. Harrumph.

Anyone who drinks tea from a gallon jug
Purchased at some sort of shop for plebeians
Is definitely Of The People, and not to be trusted
Give him a coin and send him on his way

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

                                       60 Keys to Abject Horror


                            The man that hath no music in himself
                            Plays the harpsichord instead

                                   -as Shakespeare did not say


Of all musical instruments the most abhorred
Is the banging, clanging harpsichord

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

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

                        I. Watching for Smoke from Vatican Hill

                          On the Occasion of the Papal Conclave

Latins and Sabines may have watched for smoke
From the Vatican Hill across the way
Wondering if a careless shepherd had set a fire
Beyond the Seven Hills of holy Rome

We several tribes of nations still watch for smoke
From the Vatican Hill across our screens
Anticipating a careful, caring shepherd
And trusting the Holy Spirit to send us fire

Outside a happier palace, open to all lands
Where Saint Peter may better warm his hands

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

                                            Having Lost Our Way


                     Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav’n

                                 -Satan in Paradise Lost I.263


Like Gollum we hug our ancient hatreds to ourselves
Clinging to every offense, real or perceived
Chanting with Macbeth’s witches as we stir
Each sullen resentment into the ***

We wish neither to forgive nor to be forgiven
A hand offered in friendship will be eaten
Faith is a bitcoin of unreality
And love is just an excuse for abuse

Like Gollum we hug our ancient hatreds to our deaths
Hissing vituperatives with our very last breaths

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

                        Spectrum TV Takes Out the Main Water Line

For two days Spectrum to our surprise did fine
But today they ruptured the water line

(Can ya dig it?)

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

                               A Toy Story by Donny Two Dolls

I want (while dressed up as a Pope; I’m wild)
To ration the toys you want to give your child

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

                                 Our ***** Minister for Culture

Our Leader, our dear, dear Leader, is a real pizz-***
He censors our movies and reopens Alcatraz

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

                        My Bestest Friend in the Whole First Grade


                                            For Rodney Joe Webb
                                               of happy memory


Our fathers’ farms were across the road from each other
We rode the big yaller feller to school
After the morning milking: Run! Run! We’ll be late!
And back again for the evening milking

We knew all sorts of stuff about battleships
And that Roy Rogers was better than Gene Autry
Chevy or Ford, and America could never be licked
Robin Hood and the biggest fish in the pond

The farms are long gone, and the fields of hay –
I went to his visitation today

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

                                                         ­   Merch

What, then, is merch? Tchotchkes and souvenirs?
Gift shop gimcrackery from a day at the beach
An airport tee on the way home from London
A Canadian flag stamped on a made-in-China cup?

No

Merch is now the livery of submission:
Politicians selling you your own souls
Entertainers fondling your credit cards
If you give them money they will be your friends

Don’t follow them; for you are good and true -
Wear, read, think, sing, and honor the nobility in you

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

                                   Haircut Appointment with Connie

The year’s at the spring,
And day ’s at the morn;
0400 with thunderstorms
The fields are dew-pearl'd;
Scotty-the-cop makes his traffic busts
And Connie her usual fuss
God ’s in His heaven—
All ’s right with the world!

                                -as Robert Browning did not say

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

                                      Spectrum Cable 4

                                       For 1 May 2025

Spectrum is usually more dead than alive –
O! For a newspaper at the foot of the drive!

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

                                 Springtime’s Laughing Rhymes

A Merry Little Breeze, an allergen sneeze
Happy little children among the bees

The always fresh challenge to rhyme with moon
Perhaps noon? Spoon? Croon? Loon? Swoon? Bare feet?

Bare feet?

Bare feet! How neat! A grassy-tickly treat!

And Mama calls out, “Now where are your shoes?”

“Oh, we left them in church on the back-row pews!”

“Just wait ‘til I tell your father that news!”

(Giggling)

“And where are your socks?”
“Inside with the clocks!”

“That makes no sense!”
“Gimme three pence!”

A Merry Little Breeze, an allergen sneeze
And beneath the trees a little world at ease




[Merry Little Breezes – cf. Thornton W. Burgess’ Mother West Wind stories]

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

                      “WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE!?”


           “We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny.
            But what we put into it is ours.”

                       -Dag Hammarskjold, Markings, p. 55


Major Hochstetter often bellows this question
Echoing Pharoah and Pilate, and Plato too
Your barber, an x-ray technician long ago
A couple of sack boys at the supermarket

What are any of us doing here?

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

     Strange Lights, Strange Sounds, and Would You Like a Coffee?

In hospital one encounters strange lights
Strange sounds, visions – What is this all about?
Radioisotopes floating around in one’s veins
Dizzies, buzzies, shortness of breath, coughs, sighs

Reality tilts on an axis that isn’t there
Illuminations flash by at unwarped speed
Grey slabs curiously marked maneuver awfully close
Why does machinery slide overhead?

And a kindly voice says, “It’s okay. You’re doing fine”
And then those most welcome words: “Would you like a coffee?”

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

                                   The Compensatory Manosphere

                                  For our cabinet-room commandos

They are loud with their manly talk of war
Scripted by John Wayne, chopped-salad cliches
Rat-tat-tatting like studio machine guns
On the Flanders’ fields of grade-school recess

They never heaved a buddy’s chopped remains
Into a dust-off barely touching the ground
Rotors screaming, wounded screaming, blood
Instead, they polish their torpedoes and CVs

“Signal ‘Charge!’”

Is their computer keyboard battle cry
Their wives listening in as young soldiers die

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

        The People’s Liberation Army Has No Veto Over Christmas


“The Halloween and Costume Association warned that tariffs are threatening to ‘wipe out Halloween and severely disrupt Christmas unless urgent action is taken.’"

                                          -Axios.com, 26 April 2025


God’s wisdom-speakers from the sunrise East
Mysterious messengers in free service to Truth
To Bethlehem, where the world is to be renewed
Come bearing gifts without the comrades’ permission

[The formatting was mangled in the transfer.]

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

                               "Your Changes Have Been Saved"

Noticed the passive voice
          the passive voice is to be noticed

You did not make changes changes were not made by you
        but changes were made

You did not save changes changes were not saved by you
         but changes were saved

If you were relevant you might have been consulted

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

                             After the Passing of the Bishop of Rome

                                The first task of a bishop is to pray.


                          -Pope Francis, The closeness of bishops
                                    (20 September 2019) | Francis


I think I’m the only Catholic in all of Christendom
Who is not giving the Holy Spirit instructions
On whom to choose for the next Bishop of Rome
And, shut my mouth, I mean to keep it that way

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

                                    Not Waiting for Godot

We pass much of our lives in waiting for things

Airplanes
Love
Christmas
Jobs
Answers
Mail
Spectrum Cable
You

Mostly, though, we wait for packages from Amazon
Maybe this time there will be happiness

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

                                         Spectrum Cable 3

                                          For 24 April 2025

Spectrum stops working at the fall of a leaf
Such fragility! It beggars belief.