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The Grey Company

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

Toward doom they ride.

To the West the fell beast flies,

And thus fear and Shadow rise.

Forth! you Ranger! And no courage lack!

From the Dark Tower nine ride in black.

Soon even the safest lands are overrun,

And all minds bent to the One.

Forth! you Ranger! The sun shines still!

Against the Shadow you must pit your will.

Now the darkest path will you roam,

And yet the Evenstar shall call you home.

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

Toward doom they ride.

To the West the fell beast flies,

And thus fear and Shadow rise.

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

To battle they ride!

Ever the Shadow they pursue,

Grey Company hard and true.

Forth! you Ranger! Traitor makes his plan!

On the stern face of the rock you stand.

Soon the Grey Company arrive,

Among the Dead you will soon stride.

Forth! you Ranger! The black ships sail!

Under the Shadow the sun will pale.

The ancient threat unreconciled,

Grey Company at the final trial.

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

Toward doom they ride.

To the West the fell beast flies,

And thus fear and Shadow rise.

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

To battle they ride!

Ever the Shadow they pursue,

Grey Company hard and true.

Forth! you Ranger! Black banner furled.

A doom before you or a new world.

Who stands now ‘gainst evil tide?

The Shadow rises and you must ride!

Forth! you Ranger! Star on your brow!

The Sword Reforged in your hand now!

Hear now! The White City calls!

Make your stand before the walls!

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

Toward doom they ride.

To the West the fell beast flies,

And thus fear and Shadow rise.

Grey cloaked, grey eyed,

To battle they ride!

Ever the Shadow they pursue,

Grey Company hard and true.

Cliff Lake 6/13/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Bullets and Bread

Nightly the great one took to his bed.

He did not sleep there but proclaimed instead.

About persecution and new bloodshed,

And the guns started firing and no one was fed.

And the news guy asked as the war spread,

“What is going on inside your head?”

And to the newsman he smiled and he said,

“See how we exchange bullets for bread.”

Oil and water,

Prayer and war.

Getting bled dry at the grocery store.

Pride and fear,

Secrets and more.

Who knows what’s next in store?

Home and hearth,

Worry and dread.

Where have the brutish boots tread?

Grease and gore,

Awake and brain-dead:

They would exchange bullets for bread.

Daily the great one is pried from his bed,

Taken to the great hall, he’ll sleep there instead.

There the cowardly circle his head,

While to him only the best lies are fed.

Down the poison primrose path he is led,

That he may open his eyes and lose the thread.

But should the people’s pain be pled,

He claims the need of more bullets and less bread.

Oil and water,

Joy and grief.

And from on high there is no relief.

Sinner and saint,

Liar and thief,

The back of the nation broken on the reef.

Home and hearth,

Worry and dread.

Where have the brutish boots tread?

Grease and gore,

Awake and brain-dead:

They would exchange bullets for bread.

He stands his ground while on the run,

Hides behind the storms he’s spun.

Still he claims he’s the only one –

Look at how much he has undone.

In public places and other spaces the great one is shred.

Following the disgraces he takes to his bed.

Truths he chases to shoot them dead,

Covering the bases, his lies are spread.

Truth-tellers he traces, of them he’d be shed.

Can’t forget their faces; they’re in his head.

From his sins he races, to them he’s wed,

And violence embraces, exchanging bullets for bread.

Oil and water,

Blood and bone,

How to beat a heart of stone?

Truth and lies,

Hidden and shown.

How low he’s forced the eagle flown.

Home and hearth,

Worry and dread.

Where have the brutish boots tread?

Grease and gore,

Awake and brain-dead:

They would exchange bullets for bread.

Cliff Lake 6/11/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

The Benefits of the Doubt

Everything is a lie.

That’s the bottom line.

Everything is a lie.

Every word,

Every move,

Every choice.

Everything is a lie.

But what is he afforded?

The benefit of the doubt.

Who benefits?

Certainly not you.

Certainly not me.

“He doesn’t know what words mean.”

An easy out.

“He has dementia.”

A soft cell.

“He doesn’t read well.”

“He isn’t intelligent.”

“He gets worse every day.”

And he slips through the cracks.

Again.

He slips through the cracks.

Everything is a lie.

I doubt the benefits.

I doubt the performance.

An adjudicated liar.

A thief.

A pretender.

An escape artist.

You’re buying it.

I don’t.

Is he crazy?

Like the fox, as they say.

How better to get the soft cell?

Cultivate sympathy.

No bunker bullet here friends,

No,

This fella has chosen the house option.

Everything is a lie.

You know this.

You’ve said this.

And then you give him the benefit.

He isn’t just telling his base, you know:

“I aced it.”

They believe it.

But YOU believe he believes it.

And it’s a lie.

He wants you to believe he doesn’t know.

To get the soft cell.

To get the benefit of your doubt.

You doubt his ability to reason.

That’s what he’s counting on,

That’s the benefit.

Not for you,

Not for me.

He benefits.

The benefit from your doubt of him.

Everything is a lie.

You know this.

You just need to remember.

Everything is a lie,

That’s the bottom line.

When the time comes,

We need to remember.

Cliff Lake 6/4/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

The Rain Again

Does the ocean need the rain?

Does not the river fill it again?

What lesson is learned from repeated pain?

Does the ocean need the rain?

Consider this and explain:

The miller does not sow the grain,

It is delivered to be ground again.

And yet the wheat does not complain.

Nor does anything constrain,

Nor does the wheat refrain,

It simply grows without disdain,

And we consider this mundane.

Consider man in the same vein:

Unchecked power without restrain,

Only interested in more gain,

And the ever growing domain,

Acquired by the more forceful campaign,

And mowing down what he can’t contain.

Into the ground the soaking bloodstain,

And the wheat is fed and grows again.

Does the ocean need the rain?

Does not the river fill it again?

What more need it obtain?

What lesson is not learned from repeated pain?

Are not the sky and the sea but remote twain?

Is it something beyond explain?

We sometimes miss what is too plain,

Does the ocean need the rain?

Look around and please explain:

Why are some so inhumane?

What do they think will remain

If those in power are given free rein?

Collecting riches as harvested grain.

Or as leeches that attach and drain.

Why would such as these abstain?

They will merely harvest again.

Does the ocean need the rain?

Does not the river fill it again?

What more need it obtain?

What lesson is not learned from repeated pain?

Are not the sky and the sea but remote twain?

Is it something beyond explain?

We sometimes miss what is too plain,

Does the ocean need the rain?

Please consider the wheat again:

How it grows and is cut without complain.

Consider that your own life is all obtain.

Yet the most of your effort is gathered as grain,

And eventually you return to earth again,

And above you the sky will rain,

And to the sky the wheat will strain,

And what then will be the gain?

Does the ocean need the rain?

Does not the river fill it again?

What more need it obtain?

What lesson is not learned from repeated pain?

Are not the sky and the sea but remote twain?

Is it something beyond explain?

We sometimes miss what is too plain,

Does the ocean need the rain?

Does not the river fill it again?

Is it something beyond explain?

Does the ocean need the rain?

Cliff Lake 6/4/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

The Better

Sitting in the high seat

I am closer to the sun.

The lofty perch I occupy

Affords me so much fun.

I hear your moaning squabbles,

But nothing gets me done,

Like the smell of counted money

And the sound of the gun.

I sit so much higher

On my overstuffed billfold.

I am the seller and the buyer,

And you are what’s been sold.

Try to survive me if you’re able,

But may I make this statement bold:

If there’s no food on the table,

There’s no way it can get cold.

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

Can’t budge me,

What do you plan to do?

Don’t grudge me,

I am one of the few

Granted all that I can ask,

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

I need not fear the newsroom,

They’re here in my pocket.

Likewise the courtroom supreme:

The good old shadow docket.

And what about the departments-in-law?

I’ve got them on lock-it.

And if I need some chaos stirred up,

There’s the man with the rocket.

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

Can’t budge me,

What do you plan to do?

Don’t grudge me,

I am one of the few

Granted all that I can ask,

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

Don’t try to push,

You all work for me.

You had better shush,

Before you work for free.

Your reputation will be mush,

You worthless filthy flea!

Out on your tush,

Thrown in a bush,

Begging on bended knee!

So stop poking at my high place,

Lest you feel my sting.

Just focus on my face,

And don’t ask me for a thing.

Do as I say and keep pace,

While I tug on your nose ring,

Keep calm and keep in your place,

And of me thee sing!

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

Can’t budge me,

What do you plan to do?

Don’t grudge me,

I am one of the few

Granted all that I can ask,

Don’t judge me,

I am better than you.

Cliff Lake 6/2/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Detached

The constant companion,

The final fadeaway.

The surprise abandon,

No more dark in the day.

A loss insubstantial,

A trailing sorely missed.

So silently cancelled,

The loss of the tryst.

My shadow has left me,

I know not the cause.

My shadow has left me,

Under the sun all on my own.

My shadow has left me

And I am not who I was.

My shadow has left me,

And I am alone.

Eyeless gray reflection,

Or shade sinister underfoot.

Some unknown dissection,

Something has come unhooked.

My dark silent accomplice,

How far have you run?

I am unmoored without compass,

Unaccompanied under sun.

My shadow has left me,

I know not the cause.

My shadow has left me,

Under the sun all on my own.

My shadow has left me

And I am not who I was.

My shadow has left me,

And I am alone.

Did I behave badly,

Why was I disowned?

Can nobody save me,

Must I walk alone?

My dark silent accomplice,

How far have you run?

I am unmoored without compass,

Unaccompanied under sun.

The constant companion,

The final fadeaway.

The surprise abandon,

No more dark in the day.

My shadow has left me,

I know not the cause.

My shadow has left me,

Under the sun all on my own.

My shadow has left me

And I am not who I was.

My shadow has left me,

And I am alone.

Cliff Lake 5/30/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Dreamy

One-trick mirror and the long reflection,

See myself clearer in vivisection.

Fearing an interior misdetection

Always getting nearer where the dark dreams beckon.

And here I am again,

Found at the dark dream dead-end.

Here I am again,

Impossible to unattend.

Here I am again,

Less and less to recommend,

More and more to apprehend,

Dark dreams beckon like a friend –

And here I am again.

The long forbidden corridor,

Not quite so hidden as before,

Forgotten horror kept in store,

I am my own conspirator.

And here I am again,

Found at the dark dream dead-end.

Here I am again,

Impossible to unattend.

Here I am again,

Less and less to recommend,

More and more to apprehend,

Dark dreams beckon like a friend –

And here I am again.

With what do I contend?

What reality to unbend?

Some fantasy to amend,

Hallucinations to defend,

Or self-delusion that I tend.

Still downward I descend,

Knitting up the loose ends:

No use trying to pretend…

Found in the depth of possibility,

Rather, the sinking inevitability:

Just the last chance integrity,

I look again and the dark is me.

And here I am again,

Found at the dark dream dead-end.

Here I am again,

Impossible to unattend.

Here I am again,

Less and less to recommend,

More and more to apprehend,

Dark dreams beckon like a friend –

And here I am again.

One-trick mirror and the long reflection,

Always getting nearer where the dark dreams beckon.

See myself clearer in vivisection,

Down here where the dark dreams beckon.

Things are clearer

Where the dark dream beckons.

Come nearer,

The dark dream beckons…

Cliff Lake 5/30/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

The Café of Discipline

Straight on, straight on,

How else to greet the impossible dawn?

Is it not enough to carry on

In the Café of Discipline?

Enter friend, you’ve time to spend,

All your fears we’ll soon transcend,

Prepare for your unknown dividend,

In the Café of Discipline.

Step in, step in,

Where to begin?

Come in, come in,

Be filled to the brim,

Check in, check in,

Find yourself all unpinned,

In the Café of Discipline.

More than a now and then,

This hospitality we extend,

Allow normality to upend

In the Café of discipline.

We’ve sights and slights, remain upright,

Requires quite the merest bite,

We are gonna get you right,

In the Café of Discipline.

Step in, step in,

Where to begin?

Come in, come in,

Be filled to the brim,

Check in, check in,

Find yourself all unpinned,

In the Café of Discipline.

Where are you going?

You’re already here.

What are you showing?

We’ve seen it all, dear.

You enter unknowing,

Be of good cheer,

We’re just here mind-blowing –

Please see the cashier.

Come on in, spend some time,

It’s a most commodious crime.

It’s just a minute before your showtime,

In the Café of Discipline.

Now you’ve been but a while,

Smile, you’ve survived the trial,

We like your style, keep you on file,

In the Café of Discipline.

Step in, step in,

Where to begin?

Come in, come in,

Be filled to the brim,

Check in, check in,

Find yourself all unpinned,

In the Café of Discipline.

Cliff Lake 5/29/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Clarity

The silent screaming darkness,

Tunnel in, tunnel in.

A release of the harness,

The welcome spiraling.

Clear-eyed and hungering,

Shake off the cloying calm.

Insensible encumbering,

Release reason’s embalm.

The hesitation

When you speak my name.

I am no sensation,

I seek the madness that you claim.

What is this trepidation,

I strain against contain -

If I somehow don’t go crazy

I will go insane.

The numbing shouting input,

The silence of their eyes.

The closeted output,

The piercing in disguise.

The poison in the comfort,

The meaning in their ends,

The scrabbling for more dirt,

The nightmares one defends.

The hesitation

When you speak my name.

I am no sensation,

I seek the madness that you claim.

What is this trepidation,

I strain against contain -

If I somehow don’t go crazy

I will go insane.

Echoes in the new dawn,

Remnants of the night.

Demons of a new spawn,

Ever in the sight.

Flames that always burn too cold,

Fired from within,

The tale repeated all too old,

Now we can begin.

The hesitation

When you speak my name.

I am no sensation,

I seek the madness that you claim.

What is this trepidation,

I strain against contain -

If I somehow don’t go crazy

I will go insane.

Cliff Lake 5/27/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

The Real Fake News Fortnite Edition

Noting some rust on a personal vehicle, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has begun what he calls “a war on oxidation” in which he is calling for “excess oxygen removed from air and water which will also help prevent drowning in certain cases.”

RFK Jr. is also pressuring the FDA to investigate milk because of “invasive chemicals such as calcium and also vitamin D which seems to be causing a higher incidence of unwed mothers.”

President Trump today cancelled a dentist appointment as he “has many activities and golf tees to attend.”

Lauren Boebert cancelled her attendance at a local Colorado children’s event where her son Tyler was to be Master of Ceremonies claiming, “He won’t be Master of anything; this family has had enough trouble with that sort of thing in public.”

Speaker of the House Mike Johnson was asked directly if Donald Trump was the Messiah returned. “I have no proof of that either way”, said the Speaker, “But that doesn’t rule out President Trump being Santa Claus or one of the other apostles.”

President Trump has cancelled a planned rally at a roadside bar in Arkansas later this week claiming, “too many things on my plate at this time and I don’t want the fries to get cold.” Instead, work is being done to hang a picture of the president in front of the TV and allow the mouth to move while a pre-recorded message from the Oval Office plays. Said Trump, “It will be just like Clutch Cargo. Clutch Cargo. Remember that show? Fantastic! It’s never been done before, and so beautifully.”

Secretary of State Marco Rubio says he backs President Trump completely on Iran as the president is “still the fastest gun in the White House and may also have a knife, so…”

The White House said today that President Trump will not be attending his next cognitive examination as he intends to remain at the executive offices “in the prevention of autopens and other Bidenisms.” It is rumored that the president intends instead to send House Representative James Comer in his place, replacing son Eric who is said to still be lost in a large paper bag.

Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt released a statement saying that upon her return she will no longer wear pants to briefings “as I have found them to be highly flammable and that’s not good for newborns.” Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth today stated, “I am very concerned an end to the war in Iran may save taxpayers money and allow people to get healthcare like vultures.”

Finally, President Trump issued a statement on the war in Iran saying, “In honor of our great and largely complete and beautiful Iran victory, I will be inviting the very terrific and patriotic New York Giants football team to the White House for a TACO dinner possibly as soon as two weeks.”

Cliff Lake 5/25/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Rosy

In his opulence he sat,

He had never wanted for a thing.

Allowing himself to grow fat,

A child that had been made a king.

He sat at his table grand

His ministers spoke of the people’s woe.

Yet he would but survey his land,

He needed not be vexed so.

Blindly their court will stumble on,

Wearing their shades of rosy hue.

Someday the walls will tumble down,

And they’ll wonder how they never knew.

Never had he done deeds bad,

A just and noble ruler he would proclaim.

If only they had already had,

There would be naught they could complain.

And so the king took comfort,

And then another bite,

He would continue as he had done,

For he knew folk grumbled but out of spite.

So blindly this court stumbles on,

Darkening their shades in rosy hue.

Soon the walls will tumble down,

How is it that they never knew?

Beyond the walls the people groaned,

They could buy no meat nor even bread.

Inside the walls the king well gowned,

And sleeping soundly in his bed.

So the ministers slunk from the hall,

Fearing there was ought that they could do.

But on the land the growing pall,

And the king’s defenders growing few.

Still blindly this court stumbles on,

Behind their shades in rosy hue.

Soon the walls will tumble down,

How is it that they never knew?

Disquiet beyond the door,

A riot to settle the score,

Defiant and demanding more,

Compliant isn’t what’s in store…

In his oblivion he sat,

Somehow never hearing anything.

Intent on maintaining fiat,

A child never quite a king.

Installed at his table grand,

Easily ignoring tales of woe.

Gripping all the reins he can,

He’d be vexed if made to let go.

So blindly the court did stumble on,

Behind their shades of rosy hue.

Soon the walls would tumble down,

And they’ll wonder how they never knew.

Cliff Lake 5/23/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Shinytown

There is a road that ends up almost nowhere,

Around the next curve, beyond the sun’s glare.

Is it a secret enclave or merely a safe snare?

Not much is heard from those who have gone there.

Tales have been told here, yes, once or thrice:

Of sugar and spice and everything nice.

Abandon all anxiety and take our advice:

Allow yourself the embrace of the velvet vice.

Shinytown!

So far off the beaten track!

Don’t forget your sandals,

Don’t forget your backpack!

Shinytown!

Once you’re in you will never look back,

Shinytown is the original switchback.

Lay your cares in the provided ditchway,

Enter at your own speed no matter which way.

Here it’s always find your own niche day,

And maybe for the sales pitch, stay.

No altered allegiances you need to attend,

No adjusted arrangements you need to amend.

Just access the appropriate alleyway and

You’re not prepared for what’s around the next bend!

Shinytown!

So far off the beaten track!

Don’t forget your sandals,

Don’t forget your backpack!

Shinytown!

Once you’re in you will never look back,

Shinytown is the original switchback.

Just up over the next rise,

(Shiny!)

Absorb the effects, guys,

(Shiny!)

Just a matter of perplex skies,

(Shiny!)

Let it get you right between the eyes!

And shine,

Just shine!

Don’t be sad, just ditch that frown,

You’re basically in the playground.

It gets better when the sun goes down,

When you go to town in Shinytown.

So come as you are either day or night,

Stay for a bit, have yourself a bite.

Don’t wish you may, don’t wish you might,

Time to join in and get yourself right.

Shinytown!

So far off the beaten track!

Don’t forget your sandals,

Don’t forget your backpack!

Shinytown!

Once you’re in you will never look back,

Shinytown is the original switchback.

Cliff Lake 5/21/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Near End

It is now very nearly the end,

As down your rocky road you weary wend:

Fallback positions you dear defend,

Searching stony faces for a final friend.

The seeds of ruin spread in manure deep,

Living off the backs of others, your return is cheap.

You fear the judgement you will final reap,

As off the precipices you created you leap.

Why don’t you remember where you came from?

How will you answer the beat of your funeral drum?

Your day of reckoning is approaching chum,

Do you hear the beat of your funeral drum?

You show up in state in your soiled gown,

While watching all your webs come unwound.

See how your world goes upside-down,

What an unwieldy fate you have found.

All of your plans go un-gelling,

Every day more enemies need felling.

Everything seems like it’s going helling,

And yet you’re still the cat that needs belling.

Why don’t you remember where you came from?

How will you answer the beat of your funeral drum?

Your day of reckoning is approaching chum,

Do you hear the beat of your funeral drum?

You may take comfort in the lies you’ve told,

Gain what there is from the lives you’ve sold,

Try to cover the secrets you hold,

And still you wonder how the world has gone cold.

So keep on ranting your tongue-mangled twister,

Blither away while all our ears blister.

Broadcast to the world that you’re an un-powerful mister,

Never have we seen such a weak sister.

Why don’t you remember where you came from?

How will you answer the beat of your funeral drum?

Your day of reckoning is approaching chum,

Do you hear the beat of your funeral drum?

It is now very nearly the end,

As down your rocky road you weary wend:

Fallback positions you dear defend,

Searching stony faces for a final friend.

Cliff Lake 5/19/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Flow

A standing stone, or just bare bone,

A shadow beneath the trees.

A fleeting song, we are not long,

Merely faint notes on the breeze.

The rivers of time flow between the stars,

Where are the islands of those streams?

Though it seems in life we travel far,

We may be merely our own dreams.

So, hurry, don’t worry as you scurry,

Try to keep gaining in the chase!

So, hasten, outpace them and outrace them,

As the eons amass, we have but this brief taste.

Time erodes and thus leaves its mark.

We so fumbling and eager in the dark.

How will we manage the days we are given?

We not so mighty under the infinite heavens.

We are moments that ripple barely leaving a trace.

Years consume monuments, they erase the face.

These aging hands, where does the time go?

Nothing withstands the inescapable flow.

Then hurry, don’t worry as you scurry,

Try to leave a mark in this space!

So, hasten, keep pace then and outrace them,

As the eons amass, we have but this brief taste.

And here I mark time counting every breath,

Wondering how I may repay to earth the debt

Accumulated through tears, tribulation and sweat

Within the scant moments where I have been set.

And also today chasing all I still don’t know,

And gather what meager I might sow,

Or simply hear what breezes may blow,

And thus within the current, flow.

There is left no hurry, no scurry,

Time moves and I am carried apace.

I’m chastened, won’t hasten, what is there to outrace?

As the eons amass, we have but this brief taste.

Cliff Lake 5/13/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Winner

What cold win have you got to now?

Why does uneasiness still furrow your brow?

How did the undercutting not work out as planned?

Why has the victory left you this unmanned?

What are you chasing that never strayed?

Was it yourself that you outplayed?

What did you claim that would not belong?

Was the knife at your back yours all along?

Who is inflamed with all your betraying?

That is the shame of all your preying.

Success you claim, but it’s loss you’re displaying,

There is no game if you’re the only one playing.

What was gained at the end of day,

Was it too little, will you not say?

Are your actions too demeaning to defend?

Was there ever a meaning to the end?

Why did the everything go sideways to the plan?

You were the comic playing the straight man.

How did the whole everything go so wrong?

You were the fox in the chicken coop all along.

Who is inflamed with all your betraying?

That is the shame of all your preying.

Success you claim, but it’s loss you’re displaying,

There is no game if you’re the only one playing.

It’s too much,

It’s too fast.

There’s too little,

It won’t last.

It’s too big,

You’re too small.

You’re too wrong,

And that’s all.

How did the undercutting not work out as planned?

Why has the victory left you this unmanned?

Why did the everything go sideways to the plan?

You were the comic playing the straight man.

Who is inflamed with all your betraying?

That is the shame of all your preying.

Success you claim, but it’s loss you’re displaying,

There is no game if you’re the only one playing.

Cliff Lake 5/12/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Grapemine

Poison:

The sweet perpetration.

The societal sensation.

A personal levitation.

Poison ever the chronic conflation.

Venom:

Some fearless flotation,

Word of mouth mutation,

Involved though no invitation,

Your involuntary integration.

Prattle, tattle,

What matter whose life is rattled?

Chatter, ratter,

Severed reputation on a silver platter.

Hearsay, near-say,

A small matter of peer-slay.

Defame, inflame,

The bodies lie shattered in the gossip game.

Scandal:

Trade in titillation,

Maybe fabrication,

Some outright creation,

Or oversimplification.

Rumor:

Character assassination,

Infamy without citation,

Aspersion through fixation,

Influence castration.

Prattle, tattle,

What matter whose life is rattled?

Chatter, ratter,

Severed reputation on a silver platter.

Hearsay, near-say,

A small matter of peer-slay.

Defame, inflame,

The bodies lie shattered in the gossip game.

Backstab or browbeat?

Some mouthy mistreat?

Escalation compete?

Is it deceit on repeat?

Prattle, tattle,

What matter whose life is rattled?

Chatter, ratter,

Severed reputation on a silver platter.

Hearsay, near-say,

A small matter of peer-slay.

Defame, inflame,

The bodies lie shattered in the gossip game.

Cliff Lake 5/7/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

Loopback

Have you seen the sniping sabotage,

Cryptic campaign camouflage.

Petty plyings that go pale

In the light of bared betrayals.

Have you seen the misdirection,

Self-inflicted prepared projection.

Have you seen the galloping guiling

Behind the superficial smiling.

Round and round,

Who is it that you confound?

Up and down,

Isn’t the injury inbound?

Pound and pound,

Watch all the mistakes compound.

Down and down,

It’s just getting this lost…

That you’ve found.

Treachery in ready residence,

Capitalize on the captured confidence.

Dare the duplicity dispense,

Sellout is some sort of self-defense.

Forked tongue duly doubletalks,

Backpedal in sorry squawks.

What more will you heavy hawk?

Enough with the seedy schlock!

Round and round,

Who is it that you confound?

Up and down,

Isn’t the injury inbound?

Pound and pound,

Watch all the mistakes compound.

Down and down,

It’s just getting this lost…

That you’ve found.

The lies disguise,

Attempt revise.

There’s only lows,

There are no highs.

The lies cut ties,

How many tries

Before you find

There is no prize.

Have you seen the dark deflection,

Propounded as a self-protection.

Have you seen the errant eyes

Darting as the friendship fries.

Have you seen the dank deception,

Rising from some rank reflection.

Have you seen the damning doubt

Staring back instead of out.

Round and round,

Who is it that you confound?

Up and down,

Isn’t the injury inbound?

Pound and pound,

Watch all the mistakes compound.

Down and down,

It’s just getting this lost…

That you’ve found.

Cliff Lake 5/4/2026

My personal Substack - Poetry, poems, lyrics, songs. Click to read CliffSongs, by Cliff Lake, a Substack publication with hundreds of subscr

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