Today’s the U.S. Open Final
Taking place in Queens,
With Alcaraz and Sinner
Front and center on our screens.
We’ve been told the prez will be on hand
And, while the anthem plays,
All the cameras will be focused
On the bluster he displays.
Yet to show how things have changed,
A memo managed to get sent
To the broadcast booths of every station
Brooking no dissent –
No booing of the U.S. king
Should make it on the air.
If such disruptions do get shown,
Well, broadcasters, beware!
This censorship just reinforces
How low we have sunk.
Our former democratic values
Certainly have shrunk.
Disasters impaired us
Our Pastors prepared us
Broadcasters just scared us
We're Plastered in Paris!
Britain’s
Biggest
Cover up
As Britain’s biggest broadcasters,
you should hang your heads in shame.
For his despicable crimes,
your cover-ups are to blame.
We won’t give him the honour
of repeating his vile name —
you filled up your cups
as he played his sickening game.
For years and years
you ignored the tears
of innocent young people,
all the time knowing
they stood in the presence of pure evil.
As Britain’s biggest broadcasters,
you had a duty of care —
but that duty seemed reserved
for a man in a tracksuit
with greasy long blonde hair.
I’m not sure how you slept at night
knowing what he had done,
letting this monster
steal the innocence of the young.
You allowed them to become smitten
with the most prolific offender in Britain,
while hiding the truth
of his most depraved intentions.
So hang your heads in shame —
for Britain’s biggest cover-up,
your actions are to blame.
Blood coats your hands,
your silence — the crime.
The victims are buried,
but you’ll serve the time.
For every child broken,
for every soul maimed —
history remembers.
And it spits out your name.
Naked without color natural glamour on the outside
sweet and courteous imaginary clamor with astride
wake up and advance as is need not glitz a looker
no require for waterfalls pure spritz not a snooker
polish not and matches in everything fresh in linen
carefree when going right waltz swing if so tailspin
talkative at times when directed back to if not speechless
seen the falsity of those who walk through that are teach less
innocence lost when pain presented disasters now defiant
no need to conform but needs interaction broadcasters to be compliant
unapproachable with strangers and acquaintances alike friends yeah sure
they leave her alone when fear approaches flint a strike no love pure
no one seems to grasp it this is real though escapes demise when with them
hoping they one day will realize this is where transforming will stem
an octelle
Inherently feral, protests
have morphed into a foul abscess.
Our formidable nation
spent from false adoration
incites fulminations widespread.
from forged arsenals of hatred.
Inherently feral, protests
have morphed into a foul abscess.
Angry bewildered dissidents
teeming ‘mid brutal incidents,
are leery, believing lies.
Meanwhile broadcasters devise
blindness to ominous truth..
Their solution? the voting booth.
Angry bewildered dissidents
teaming ‘mid brutal incidents.
July 24, 2020
We all respond differently,
To the news and it’s delivery
Sometimes it is loud and abrasive,
Distorted and dismissive
Some channels speak common sense,
Reassuring me not to get tense
Positive good news never sells,
It’s the dramatic and shocking that does well
It’s said a “good” lie should have a bit of truth,
Watch a few broadcasters to get your proof
Anxiety and concern they want to spread,
It’s all about getting inside your head
To convince that it’s fiction over facts,
Trust your judgement on how to act
Information overcomes fear,
When discussions make things clear
Social distance,
Improves my resistance
Despite the compromises to my routine,
My hands have never been so clean
It’s not every day we fight a pandemic,
But we can with simple logic
Understand too it’s not a hoax,
No matter what the anchor man spoke
Our world gets smaller every day,
Increasing the chance bad stuff comes our way
So too, this storm we can weather,
For we are all in this together
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings nostalgic melodies of the jungle
Where she flew along , on the wings of the dawn without the restrictions of her cage
A beautiful place designed for her, a wage
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings of society’s miseries and her forlorn hopes torn by them, her captors
Her ills are not preached by her own pastors
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings a warning hymn to her siblings
Those abused by the makers of the laws
To prevent their kids from the fangs that comes out of society’s jaws
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings of the one who stole her dignity
And kept it as a sign of his masculinity
A fate unearned, a prize for her virginity
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings a dirge for her dead soul
Her body , empty like abandoned halls
Her blood a graffiti, imprinted on the walls
I know why the cage bird sings
She sings to us her writers , who are society’s broadcasters
To send a new message to her tormenters
G-ood news come and go
E-ven the bad ones too;
R-eporting is so sensitive,
R-espect to all is in
Y-ou.
B-emedaled brave broadcasters
A-re admired by eyes that glow;
J-uly nineteenth early morn
A-ll news come and go.
( Magic nine )
Peaceful, serenity, green lush pastures,
Shadows reflected by the surounding hills,
Blue granite painted by grand masters,
Clear waters, stream flowing gallantly
Gracefully timeless, free of disasters,
Home of a ghostly herd of white horses
Playing their parts like professional actors,
Known as the horses of lonely valley,
Mares Foals and stallions the broadcasters,
Through instinct they take flight thundering noise
Echoing around the valley threat acknowledged,
Followed by kicking, whinnying full of joys,
In the distance two foals chasing each other
Being watched by the lead mare with poise,
The magnificent stallion quite astonishing
Alert of any take over expectancy deploys,
Constantly strutting up and down mares and fillies
Grazing watching these negative thoughts destroys.
Rhyme scheme
abacadaba
The music interrupted,
We all listened for the why.
An announcer gave a warning
That a thunderstorm was nigh.
He was very time-specific
For the counties that he named
And I wonder if the weather
Will be scary as he claimed.
On the back porch I am sitting,
Gazing upwards at the sky
Where I must admit a big black cloud
Is waiting there, on high.
But there's still a bit of sunshine
So it's possible we'll skirt
Such a downpour that deserves
Such an emergency alert.
Forty minutes are remaining
If the broadcasters are wise
And if nothing comes to pass, it won't be
Much of a surprise.
ANNOYING GAME
Annoying Game
Cheers
quite annoying
voices mutter
quiet chatter
huddled in confusion
Boring broadcasters
feigns excitement
children watching
not so mellow drama
The curse preventing
Felix the cat's first act
more chatter accompanies
horrible organ music.
Resounding cheers
Greeks speaks
plays called.
"he walks the bases "
on cleats.
Dinner is served
on T.V. trays
Uncle does not move
He sits on the throne
commandeering black
and white screens
with rabbit ears.
I wait for the final cheers
Of the win, Yes, It’s over
or the Boo's for losers
Baseball, way to ruin
a child's summer.!
President Obama
in an election drama
surprised all the broadcasters
when he won without Florida
~
Barack Obama's has great oratory skills
and was helped in his campaign by Clinton, Bill
While in college his greed was weed
But now he warns of Wall Street's greed
~
You took over play at first base one day,
and showed everyone you were there to stay.
Your big league career no one could delay;
you were too talented for Triple-A.
An imposing sight, standing at the plate
with a powerful swing pitchers would hate.
When you were at bat, we would often hear
the broadcasters yelling: “IT’S OUTTA HERE!”
You received for the first season you played,
“Rookie Of The Year”, a prized accolade.
No better choice could have ever been made!
If more seasons played are like your first year,
you will have had an outstanding career!
Written back in 2005 after Ryan Howard was chosen the National League's Rookie
of the Year.
Television’s unblinking eye
is mesmerizing us,
addicting, time wasting, unhealthy
why is no one making a fuss?
I guess because we love it
entertaining us all,
setting us up with frivolity
before we take the fall.
Despite it’s informative content
it isolates each one,
sitting alone to watch the tube
thinking we’re having fun.
Sated with others opinions
molding us big brother’s way,
leading us into submission
deeper every day.
There is nothing for us to do
just sit right there and enjoy,
the broadcasters have some clever people
deviously in their employ.
Spoon fed mindless pap
till we don’t know right from wrong,
led by the nose to the fleecing
amid the unsuspecting throng.
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