Best Ratings Poems
How far do the ripples spread, when eventually we die
Probably stay in the locality, level off, no major outcry
But let’s say we’re famous, suffering unexplained death
The ripples keep expanding, growing further in breadth
See the grotesque nature of spin, is to overplay a scene
Garnishing public outrage, lurid pictures fill our screens
Playing to an audience, ratings become the holy grail
Stories without embellishments, grow tiresomely stale
These ripples are an illusion, imagination going berserk
Carried along by a corrupt deception, truth been shirked
Evidence the one requirement, for establishing all facts
I extrapolate backwards, what the hell there’s no splash
Lines converge into partial truths, confused to a degree
Must be taken with a pinch of salt, querying what I see
Even this soup we enjoy, is manipulated and massaged
Most of the poems are quite good, others form a mirage
Taken out of context a rectangle, can become a square
Brought into focus, desolate pictures, not quite so bare
What’s basically a clean stab, or slash across the wrist
When poets stick in the knife, some give it a good twist
Using poetry for a hidden agenda, political or otherwise
Tantamount to mind-numbing crap, seen in the tabloids
If your going to post propaganda, to further some game
Write it on toilet paper, wipe off, that’s all you’ve gained
By
David Kavanagh
Our town had a monkey named Kong
who loved to croon and tweak a song.
Though notes were a flop
his ratings soared up,
and won as King of Sing- Along!
................
" “Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.”
- Albert Einstein
LIMERICKS, Old or New! For Carolyn Devonshire's Contest
Re-post 7/16/2018
Beaverish, feverish
hot Mrs. Cleaver wished
that her affair had not
given her clap.
Fast Eddie Haskell, her
boy-toy, that rascal, his
transmissibility
claims were all crap.
“Tickle me, pickle me,
say it’s not true, for if
you have the clap then I
must have it too!”
Doctors prescribed her some
anti-microbials,
Ward soon found out that she
had been untrue.
Beaver was curious,
Ward was so furious,
fake news of Eddie’s lewd
films made him snap.
“June, you’re so sensible,
incomprehensible,
that you could fall for that
con-artist’s crap!”
Friskiness, riskiness,
ratings were rising, but
not so surprising they
cancelled the show.
Frightened by content too
radiological,
sponsors said “Beaver” was
not apropos.
*READ ALL BEFORE COMMENTING*
Lord forgive me she says she is on that sophisticated wine and dine,
she says her lips are sweet, hips full bliss enough to put your mind at ease.
Damn girl where did you get those degrees.
She feigns knowledge, pledges abstinence but lets loose to the first fool she sees
Then pledges again and lets loose and the cycle continuously, continues in a loop of ignorance.
Strange you are, a woman you are,
so when will you take a stand, and understand your lips and hips...
momentary satisfactions. The ratings of your visage an illusion which fades over time.
Rude... me... no, truthful yes, knowledge is a blessing the king you seek is not
dwelling in the slums in where you hum your tunes
Lord forgive me she says she is on that sophisticated wine and dine,
she says her lips are sweet, hips full of bliss enough to put your mind at ease.
I won't beg, I won't cry so the more power to you girl, cause ignorance is truly bliss
Hearing talented young voices provides such pleasure
In our quest for America’s latest idol treasure
Next year the judging panel will not be the same
The man we love to hate will leave for bigger game
What will it be like without the infamous scowl
Of the Brit who tells it like it is -- Simon Cowell
“That was simply dreadful,” says he with a wry smirk
“You came off karaoke; it just didn’t work.”
Randy asks, "Yo, Dog, what's with the off-key pitches?"
Ellen’s there for laughs; she leaves us in stitches
Kara strokes her long, brown hair, bats her lashes too
Asks Casey to remove his shirt, flirts as he follows through
But Simon never offers consolation prizes
Contestants' egos crash down as their anger rises
If he tells Big Mike he sounds karaoke
We may find Simon adrift in the Okefenokee
Choosing a replacement will surely not be easy
Adam Lambert? Paula's return? Oh, it makes us queasy
Simon will be missed, the show will suffer ratings
Viewers may depart for loss of the man they’re hating
A very human touch to a story
with some zip to it.
The media is a heartless leach
to the many unfortunate souls suffering,
amongst the filth and chaos of a city in peril.
War has reduced entire cities to rubble,
people are forced to flee for their lives
and yet, the news cameras focus their lenses
on its bullet-ridden facade for dramatic effect.
A money-hungry machine,
news stations suck every ounce of emotion from a story
without shame.
We expect them to inform us
of worldwide catastrophes and events,
and so, we encourage indiscriminate insensitive
photo-shoots of people’s pain.
It may be a sad addiction, and quite pathetic,
but it’s perfectly acceptable,
to exploit human suffering
in the name of news.
Coverage of childhood trauma, fear, or starvation,
all fall under the doctrine of clean hands.
Reporters inoculate hard hearts from reality’s truths
as homeless, hopeless faces,
cling to life, walking away
from everything they ever loved.
And recording their pain
while it’s still fresh and piercing,
is but an opportunity for the news to shore up falling ratings.
(Free Verse)
The Perfectionist is Listening
the rich are committing suicide
and taking us with them
the prosthetic limbed bastards
Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts
once the masters of the universe
presently picking through garbage
looking for an Icarus to pilot
some way back among the clouds
their telepathic goon squads
armed with the hard on of God
squat in the darkness of doorways
lightning strikes all around
even their machines were clairvoyant
several thousand watts went up my leg
shorting out the only attention span I own
left me perforated but not lacy
wearing all my masks all the time
fragments of self are selves
in a bulemic deconstruction
where form and content
mud wrestle incessantly for attention
on the crazy train to 3 color hell
the protagonists the antagonists
fornicators masturbators liquidators
pariahs and unlicensed poets
preaching hellstone and brimfire
apparently the ancient gods still rule
in their madhouse heaven
petulant and stupid gods
thought their figures included all the angles
sword point conversions gun point perversions
now their carcasses are steppingstones
what quirk of an infinite being
makes this burning plague village
of a planet so alone and necessary
of course none of this is protection
it's psywar out there kids
better find where they hid your dossier
mesmerized of the world unite
you have nothing to lose
but your failed methods of addressing reality
said his twisting tongue
struggling for ratings like any media
the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless
a phantom trapped in melancholy
when we were built to dance
with the twinkling stars
he finally learned to undestroy memory
being an ascended master of non sequitur
carried aloft in the arms of Mother Goose
his metabolic hurricane of why
an inferno of intrigue and superstition
our embryo-headed UFO ruling class
have me inside their fence of skulls
an investment in diagram futures
the idiots
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I had my 65th birthday on Monday.
Here are some things that were clarified for me by friends.
I hope it is a sign from God that I can still learn!
False, "erectile dysfunction" isn't a labor dispute at the
new high rise they are building downtown.
False, a "persistent vegetative state" doesn't send
representatives to the U.S. Congress and the Senate, it
does however describe the U.S. Congress.
False, Dr. Neil Clark Warren doesn't have the answer to
everyone's dating dilemma. He had a wonderful
transvestite, necrophiliac, faith-healer lined up for
me, but I got cold feet...................Imagine.
True, the only media entity getting lower ratings
than me and my poetry on PoetrySoup, is MSNBC.
False, Chevy Chase isn't one of the tracks they visit
on NASCAR's Sprint Cup Series.
False, we don't subscribe to the theory that premarital sex
will make you go blind. At my age, it is called "Pre-
Interment-Sex" and I wear bifocals already, anyway.
True, I was really feeling a little low about turning 65
and all, but then I saw Hillary Rodham Clinton on the
tube. Now, I feel like the King of the World!
True, there will never be a clear winner in the battle of the sexes.
True, if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed
this morning, you still "woke up." Be happy!
True, I will never write any of this opinionated drivel
on PoetrySoup again for fear I get banned. If you
believe that................
Happy April Fools Day Soupers, don't take ya-self too serious
You are my life and in that I believe
Always my love will be only for you
Flattering though that sounds I must confess
My first love is chocolate - sad but true
Sensual visions to capture the feel
Bringing the contours of wind sculpted plains
Hold that thought even though I love it so much
Must let the dog out before he drives me insane
Shimmering soft on the eclipse of love
Cloudless these evenings of star sprinkled mist
Just looked - no lustrous stars in this sooty sky
But stay for chocolate drizzled cake - I do insist
I drink in your fragrance
Tasting the flavors, your moistened lips
I heard something of interest today,
Chocolate doesn’t go to the hips
Kiss me ‘midst the maples
Kiss me ‘long the shore
Kiss me o’ my precious one
Now and ev’r more
Its thirsty work I must confess
This kissing and walking along the shore
A chocolate sundae sounds rather good
At that quaint little place that I do adore?
I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
My! you do know how to set the mood
I can’t go past this - you do know me
The night feels right the lights are turned low
What’s this the video has stopped? Hello!!
Johnny has left the building? Just when I wanted more
No matter- my debonair poet of delight
Conjure me up some George Clooney tonight
Well set aside your chocolate pie
For Hollywood is coming by
And as you explore your favorite star
I’ll enjoy that Hershey bar
Oh Fickle Heart chocolate second placed?
From gold to silver - it’s now displaced
Footnote:
I’ve used George Clooney as he is globally acclaimed as the most favored flavor in the ratings.
Personally, I favor the more 'Bono' type - (I love his voice)
Paul David Hewson, known by his stage name Bono, is an Irish singer-songwriter, musician.
Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green, poet extraordinaire for sparing some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement.
Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 12 July 2017
There goes the Donald again, flapping his mouth
Every time he lets it fly, his ratings go South
And she who would be chief Constitutional vandal
The media just glossed over her latest scandal
Truly it’s a contest to see who’s the biggest loser
So put Jillian Michaels in charge; we could really use her
Is he nastier than her, or she worse than him?
Instead of the White House, get their butts to the gym
The true biggest loser, of course, is plain to see
The ordinary Americans like you and me...
8/2/16
Masticate this thought for me, reader.
Basic stories of characters with settings and plot.
Occasional works of obscure fiction written in flamboyant diction.
Maybe television shows or whatever media your mind chose.
Why does life and fiction have similarities?
We’ve apparently became parodies.
Archetypes, tropes and plot devices according to our script.
Except it seems the audience is all applause and standing ovation.
Supposedly great ratings or bestseller.
You haven’t heard our success? Well, you’re a bottom-dweller.
Oh! You suggest a rewrite? A script change?
You'll be written out that can be arranged.
As Jaque said,
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
However, a rewrite can add layers.
Yes, dear reader-
You can be the writer!
Evolve a scene to make it brighter!
Sadly, ideas and influence are the base of your personality.
Unjust is this reality but that’s the duality.
Determine which truth is yours to follow.
Even if it’s slightly hollow.
Plot holes will continue to exist, because we can’t resist the perfect screenplay.
The poet of this musing is in the same boat as you.
He didn’t produce this particular piece.
You pondered enough you can cease.
There will be no riddle to guess.
It’ll only become a mess, you’ll be stupefied by the stress.
I used him as a medium to establish a connection;
a ploy of deception call it misdirection.
I am Death!
I’ve been around for centuries,
I’ve guided many souls to the afterlife.
The past is behind…
The present is set…
The future is unclear…
The end is nigh…
Remember:
Your health will deplete or an event will happen down the line-
Never forget that your soul is always mine!
The preachers all preaching tell me boy
Don't go making waves
Just listen to us and behave and believe
Every word that we say
Don't start no trouble don't take no chances
Just live your life safe
Don't ask too many questions . . .
Or you might have to really live by faith
.
Well I see em saying one thing
And a doing something else
Giving You a little hush money Lord
But keeping plenty for themselves
People livin under bridges while they drive new shiny cars
But they're careful not to watch a movie if it's rated R
.
But be careful what you watch or say and don't you let your temper go
Or you'll lose your PG rating
And they won't come to your Sunday show
There are several things that I've wanted, to say all along
But I'm a R rated lyric that's trapped, in a PG song
Well if God's called me to be a shepherd
I'm doing the best I can
These sheep are broken and hurting and scared
And I'm sure gonna need His Hand
And I can't answer all of their questions, can't give em nothing much
Religion kills tradition's dead
What we really need is Love
Well they don't care bout what I think I know
And they don't know how much He cares
And trying to hang on to PG ratings
Has got me pulling out my hair
.
So be careful what you watch or say and don't you let your temper go
Or you'll lose your PG rating
And they won't come to your Sunday show
There are several things that I've wanted, to say all along
But I'm a R rated lyric that's trapped, in a PG song
.
A plastic gospel just won't work in this real life messed up world
But I still believe that Jesus, loves all the boys and girls
Lord if I'm gonna really show em You I gotta get real with it
Gettin in there with all them sheep gonna make me smell a little bit like sheep ----
So be careful what you watch or say and don't you let your temper go
Or you'll lose your PG rating
And they won't come to your Sunday show
There are several things that I've wanted, to say all along
But I'm a R rated lyric that's trapped, in a PG song
That's right if the FCC ever catches me they're not gonna sing along.
It's Only My Opinion
By Franklin Price
8/4/2019
It's only my opinion
Of what's happening today
Many don't think much about
What we do or what we say
Mass media has sped up life
Taken time to think away
We're inclined to have opinions
React too soon to have our say
No longer are we face to face
For a handshake and a talk
We post and tweet, maliciously
Walk the trouble-maker's walk.
Comment on most anything
Whether it be truth or not
Don't take time before we post
To further stir the pot
Most everyone has cable
The internet a further choice
If we find what we relate to
We have found a common voice
There's TV now for everything
For all the major views
The pressure's on for ratings
Each is spinning their own news
Easy now for us to see
If there are others on our side
Just google and we'll find them
And they'll take us for a ride
No longer can we hide from life
Pressured now to make a choice
Can find a million just like us
To have a common voice
If we're into violence
Or predjudice of race
It will not take much searching
To find ourselves a common place
These conditions are astounding
And encourage mindless rage
We need to work together
In turning to a better page
Can't let ourselves be sucked in
By the easiness to choose
An open mind will open doors
A closed mind only lose
While the media loves Donald Trump
His mind is an acrid waste dump
He speaks from his ass
His mouth passes marsh gas
Thus he's known to us as Donald Rump
This idiot/moron was the leading story on the news shows for this Sunday. This is a total waste of time and is mostly about TV ratings. Go Bernie Sanders (the Trump antithesis)!!
Restaurants have ratings now;
They’re mostly A’s or B’s.
Eating in a C or worse,
You might catch a disease.
When eating out, I never think
About the kitchen’s state;
‘Cause if I did, I might regret
The food that I just ate.
If restaurants have a sign that says
“Grade Pending,” then you know
They want a better grade but they
Still have a ways to go.
The only place I ever saw
That did display a C
Was a Chinese take-out and that grade
Encouraged me to flee.
I’d had their noodles many times
When Chinese food I’d sought,
But noticing that C on view
Provided food for thought.
Since restaurants are well aware
Inspectors will patrol,
They’d better clean their kitchens up
And make the honor roll.
A C will scare the customers
The minute that they spot it.
From that point on, they’re wondering
Just why the restaurant got it.
And thoughts like those I will reserve
For quite another poem;
‘Cause if you’d think about it,
You would choose to eat at home!
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)