Long Moderator Poems
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The First Debate of Twenty-twenty
By Franklin Price
09/30/2020
The first debate of twenty-twenty
Was a sad state I must say
The moderator Wallace
Kept getting in the way
The rules were soon abandoned
As they left the starting gate
Was a shame that it all happened
Nothing, of it all, was great
Most of the mess was caused by Trump
He interrupted, left and right
Was not there for debating
Had come there for a fight
The media against him
Had him losing from the start
That hasn't changed since his election
He never should have taken part
No holds barred were evident
As the minutes moved along
I'm still voting him as president,
But what he did, last night, was wrong
Four years of frustration
Was his being on the stage
Asses always out to get him
Keeps him in a constant rage
Last night it finally happened
Could no longer keep it in
More debates, for him, are foolish
Because he'll do it all again.
What you see, is what you get
When the president is Trump
If he's not re-elected
We'll be a socialistic dump
I wish there were more choices
But, of course, that's not to be.
The first Tuesday of November
We will see what we will see
Apathy
Something considered fraudulent
-Deleted by Moderator or Administrator-
(Freedom of Speech?) =/= Inflammatory sentences
But what did they say?
"Don't ask questions"
{Questions} + Must + Be + /Asked/
The price we pay is -Deleted Word-
Don't be fooled by their lies
{Green Gold} {Privately Owned Prison}
Afraid of the boogeymen
{Reduce Freedom} (Prosperous Tomorrow)
--------------------------------------
Reality = Tyranny Tomorrow!
-Sentence sentenced to development Hell-
Freedom/Wrapped/Chains
Gift wrapped by {Dictators}
Free -WORD- |From|[YOURSELF]
.Wiz.Free.(OR)TOM.Gon.com
{ERROR}{ERROR}{ERROR}{ERROR}
SHUT (D) .SYS
-END OF STANZA-
Like gladiators, though in suits,
They marched onto the stage,
Their confidence or nervousness
Impossible to gauge.
The moderator welcomed them.
The crowd gave their applause;
And then we held our breaths, in hope
Of seeing someone’s flaws.
Their words lashed out, attacking,
Modern weapons they were wielding;
And both repeated errors –
To the truth they weren’t yielding.
We squirmed a bit at things they said
And silently entreated,
Encouraging our candidate
To not act so defeated.
The commentators waited
‘Til the battle reached its end
And then declared the winner,
Which supporters would defend.
At home, we turned the tube off
And, elated or dismayed,
We wondered if the undecided
Might have gotten swayed.
With two more competitions
Plus the VP’s set to meet,
It’s too soon to determine
Who will end up in defeat.
Winds of change
are fanning the flames
are fanned by the deranged.
The flames of misdirection,
the winds giving chase
(orchestrated by instruments to enrage.
Horned cheering section.)
Drones of the BlackRock, riders in holdings
park their game pieces in place,
holding and withholding payment Ace.
Get out of jail free blowhards,
influencerned by the currency,
jeering and cheering till blue in the face,
screaming Climate
Emergent Divergent Hunger Games Emergency.
Media trumpet producing endearings,
(lipstick on a Pig) for their Rat King,
(as on a White Horse)
as we grow too Sheepish to speak out, too pale
and timid to spell out their obvious course,
to vomit our rejection as diseased
as we are enslaved
under cells and convections and
tales intertwined, sanctioned throughout,
Stormgate's, leak, its Codex toothed, overreaching security breach.
Never again will we be as we were,
neVer to take flight,
or steer our own course again in our own
atmosphere.
The Mandate is clear, the Score
is reported by message board monitors
of the process, onboard,
onboarding for the Beast System processors,
riding People, herding, coral carolling
to Lucifer, sacrificial Sheeple in a transitional
Rat Race, vermen looking through peepholes.
The Piper's progress is polaroided in twain,
kodachrome rolls back the esteem, smiles of the insane, back of the head, peace sign.
Shut wide eyes rolling white for dead retina scan mouth foamed enrapture
Signature erasure brain panned for fools gold,
sold out, captured souls,(devout).
Recorders in tow, changing how the wikiwind blows,
how counts voted by Moderator,
gestapo teams, Bon Appetit, Virtual Travel, Vogue, Akinator, Mad Magazine.
(Needle in the Aperture bobbin tattoo
BuckarooBonzai glass saddles and shoes.)
Laser id suture chip sewn in diodes
of TripleBeam Barley, Wheat, Triplesec, meat...
Meta threads to breadcrumb gumshoe private dick heads, treads of
sleuth your every thought and intent, move.
Passenger monitoring, the acceptable temperature, moderate beautiful soup lukewarm chum
to taste an ode to the pasts vernacular
naked lunch humble pie shoots
in the face gruel,
heckler
of riding the storm out without Jesus, fools-Spectacular.
Mystery confounds at the G surrounds the pitch
Crumbled wickets tumbled so quick got a stitch
Far too spicy the unfair square did jar & bewitch
Russian roulette regret net humbled willow flitch
Was cricket’s largest grounds really the only hitch
Too dicey to try defence too pricey.. that's their pitch
Foolish pretence was hatched by players who snitch
Curator of this thatched turf was the ghoulish glitch
Moderator of surf the scorched earth torched must ditch
Batters so dismal no in abysmal nick will still bit*h
Madhatters trick they must scratch that ersatz itch
Say only way they will play gotta just flick the switch
Stats are for prats.. the caveat everyone bats kitsch
So to just then pick on the pitch.. well it is a bit rich!
I walked down the stage with moisture in my faces and a subtle smile on which everyone could rely. I held on to the uncompromising truth that could not be denied from my youth.
I still hold the pen that was placed in my hand and held it firmly with courage and dignity to walk over the land and a special cup that was given to me to drink from is still in that secured place in the cabinet. Some things never lose its composure even if it is not gold. Some people can see it from afar and if you are close, you could examined it with a magnifying glass.
The stage was packed around me and as far as my eyes could stretch, I could see hands waving in the thick crowd and the people were shouting and screaming out loud. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry but it was a fulfilling feeling that I could not deny.
I stopped and pause for a while as the moderator made the introduction. It wasn’t Oprah Winfrey, Bouncy, Tina Turner, Adel, Lady Gaga , Taylor Swift, Dolly Parton or Abba on stage, it was a simple woman wearing a simple pair of shoes, it was hard to comprehend how I have survived so long in the lion’s den. The miracle that got me out made the universe scream and shout.
They made the introduction and the voice of the roaring crowd thundered in the sky. It shook the birds from the trees and sends them flying back to the calm sea. I move from town to town with the vessel of love spilling on the ground. Here I was with the object of truth covering my face as we worked on the final round to complete this phase.
All the naysayers and soothsayer, don men and Hench men, flatfoot man, pimps and hustlers, religious dons and gangs are all gallivanting around the town holding up their faces to complete the final round, and as the burden of truth begins to sink in the devil, and his agent begin to sing a petrifying hymn, leading them all to the altar of truth.
I could see behind the curtains, pearls, gold and diamond, dangling in front of me and just across from there ruby and sapphire standing in Juxtaposition staring at the Swiss chocolates piling on top of the dish and the appetite of truth dripping water from their cracked lips.
The crowd went wild, the city came alive and everyone was in agreement with the new crown.
Money
A single metal penny or a piece of paper
I am countable with infinite power
I am ambiguous whether I can buy happiness
I can buy everything that makes one’s comfort
A share of mine can ease the house chores
A piece of mine can buy the joy of a toddler
A bit of mine can buy a rose for a lover
A part of mine can help to fly and dive
I disclose truth of people when I leave your side
With me you are powerful otherwise you’re fragile
I have many forms of luxury
that can make someone smile
Who says I can’t buy happiness
I am a moderator to buy forms of joy
Instead I can’t buy love with sorts of attitude of my possessor
I am that which you want to keep safe
I am the breaker and also ligature
That makes your friends and foes
I am a blessing to the poor
I can fill the palate of a hunger
I can smack a nation into dust
I can cover a body with cloth
With me you can get all articles
Without me you are nonentity in the world.
I love a lot about who I am....
A Mistress who has come into her own
A sister that LOVES her sisters no matter what
A friend who will fight to the end for loved ones
A hard worker that does what needs to be done
A mother who REALLY misses her cubs
A lover...enough said there
An ex wife who would love to be mean
A moderator who has to be fair
A college student wanting a new career
And I am a poet....
A poet that writes MANY different ways
I write happy and sad
I write fantasy and haunted
I write about my past and my future
I write humor when I can
I write how I want and when I want
I write for me and for others as well
But MAKE NO MISTAKE...I will not
Change any of my work because it
Does not make sense to you...
You see some of what I write is not meant
To make sense in a logical way....but hey
If my work or that of any other is not to your
Taste...you do not have to read what I write.
I am a poet...a poet who will write what
I want any time and any place...that is what a
Poet does....we write poetry that is for us
And makes sense for us......
I will take the good comments as well as the bad
Just do not expect me to change for you.....
After all I am....A poet......
The Last Debate of Trump and Biden
10/22/2020
By Franklin Price
written - 10/23/ 2020
The last debate of Trump and Biden
Neither one of them in hidin'
Both came to the stage to have their say
To tout what they were all about
Why the People could not do without,
What they would do, the next four years of play
The rules had changed and things made clear
There were six subjects we would hear
Each man allotted just two minutes time
The one not speaking, had no mike
Could not be heard or cause a spike
So could not cause an interruptive crime
With both two minutes, said and done
I fully thought we'd see more fun
More of the over-speaking fun and games
Surprisingly, was more control
Each had, more presidential role
Seldom yelled, or called each other names
Kristin Welker did quite well
When differences began to tell
She tried her best make them toe the line
They honored her, more than the last,
Who lost control, but that's the past
This woman moderator, more than fine.
The ninety minutes went by fast
When it was over/done at last
I tried to analyze what I had seen
I reviewed what they had said
And ran it slowly through my head
Here's, what I think, that each of them would mean
Biden, always, the democrat
Though he thinks he is more than that
Claims he would be the president for all
His Washington would care for us
We'd all be equal on the bus
Government controlling, every rise and fall
Trump still not a politician
Ran last time on his volition
He gives away his presidential pay
Believes the people should be free
For each to be what they can be
Without the ones, in D.C., in the way.
The details ,of each, are all for naught
Of who is sold and who is bought
If We the People lose controlling voice
November third, eleven days away
Be sure to vote and have your say
To select, which way we live, will be your choice