Long Newsmen Poems
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Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
A young man came in contact with the police… and has died.
So the town decided to protest, drawing others from the outside.
Everything got out of hand, and escalated, throughout the night.
Businesses destroyed, homes robbed, fires, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
The innocent bystanders have decided to move away, in droves.
The businesses are losing customers, as to safety so many go.
Eventually, businesses will also leave, for customers they must have.
The area will become blighted, where a good home once could be had.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Police and their families are being threatened, as they try to understand.
But they see that they must guard at night, all which continues to stand.
The Newsmen are stirring things up, as to the National News they go.
Of course we need to know the plight of all, as they stir up more woes.
Protesting the freedom, to protest at night, hasn’t helped stop the fights.
More will be leaving the area, cause they don’t want to live too close.
It’s the innocents who continue to suffer, if the town becomes a ghost.
It could end in a moment, or be like the fighting, in the Middle East.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
It all depends on everyone’s understanding of when it’s time to stop.
It depends on the understanding: of when something wrong feels right.
Rioting, Looting, and Protesting can’t add anything good to the mix.
But adding outsiders and hatred to it, can totally destroy all, in the end.
There are brave hearts, wanting to stop what’s going on, to get along
The outsiders control the scene, as with sadness, the good back down.
It seems to have a life of it’s own, pushed from outsiders out to win.
But the only thing they’ll win, is a ghost town, for those left within.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Remember: Be careful what you do, when feelings seem so right.
CSEastman Written 8-15-2014… ‘A bystander, very close by’
In endless quest we sought seclusions peace
hiding in the mystery of a strength always thought weak
and so denied the hero the still of death’s parade
waved surrender’s handkerchiefs to fill his empty grave
relied upon the charity of victory’s feeble thrill
struggling to rise above fresh bloodied horror’s sound.
Relentlessly the ears decry the loneliness of empty sound
as furtive eyes no future seek in fear of war, in fear of peace,
the agony of their disgrace, the joy of living without thrill
they know they’re strong, they know they’re weak
for somehow evading battles grave
to march in fiction’s harsh parade.
Solemnly on hush of wind, wars ghosts, in shadow on parade
march to history’s retold lies, leave no footprints, make no sound
for they will not resign their fate to earthen shell of shallow grave
nor will they let it slip behind the fragile wall of unearned peace
returning to a world in which we are perceived as weak
malign them with contrived disdain, condemn their sacrifice as thrill.
Podiums will hail the cause, cheering crowds create a thrill,
rolling drums will precede taps, politicians will parade,
orators with fiery words that make us neither strong nor weak
echoing across dead ears jaundiced by the painful sound
of promises that never are the troubadours of peace
and fall, as soldiers fall, alone upon a grave.
Newsmen mumble, double talk, of situations grave
amusement parks entice us with a death defying thrill
fire crackers, waving flags, noise to celebrate a peace
heads will bow when passing by war’s endless parade
the young will even shed a tear at taps lamenting sound
grit their teeth and know that honor’s tears don’t make us weak.
For freedom is the resting place for the bravest of the weak
who stand in freedom’s honor when the threat is grave
and rally to defend her, to keep her promise sound
not seeking to be heroes, nor the deception of war’s thrill
just honoring the memory of those still on parade
knowing there’s no solace in seclusions peace.
At heart we know that all are weak, that war is not a thrill
that those who fill the graves are shadow soldiers on parade
that the melancholy trumpet sound is the exhaled breath of peace.
John G. Lawless
©6/19/2014
I recall it was just the other day
Featured in the daily for which we pay
Your blown-up photo splashed across
The front page for all to gloss
Your background and your virtues extolled
For your wedding bells were soon to toll
With a king-in-waiting as the groom
You would wilt or you would bloom
For marriage makes or marriage breaks
And happiness, it gives or takes.
Demure and with dimpled smile
With an innocent heart, free of guile
The press was exuberant, so were we
You were the most charming in the royal family.
Welcomed all across the globe
The royal couple widely roved
Ambassadors of all things good
Displaying virtues like royalty would
You touched hearts wherever you went
Concern and compassion were your strength.
You were blessed in due course
With two sons that God had chose
Then differences with the prince surfaced
And you lost face, where you once graced
And while your marriage began to flounder
Your man, the prince continued to blunder
On the treacherous rocks of marital infidelity
You were shattered – your happiness was the casualty.
You decided to go your separate ways
Those were also the wishes of the palace
The trauma of separation was sheer hell
The ways of royalty were beginning to tell.
Now, hordes of newsmen invaded your privacy
In your land and beyond, you became a refugee
The air was also rife with rumours
Of liaisons and friendships and misdemeanours
Your saddest day though, was the divorce
Of you, whose touch was like the kiss of a rose.
And alone, sweet Princess, you forged along
Your grace, in adversity, inspired many a song
Of worthy causes, you were still a crusader
And you remained ever, a loving mother.
It is said, you had found love at last
And the leech like lensmen went wild with thirst
For photos which augment tabloid sales
They chased you in cars and astride motorcycles.
For you, a Parisian tunnel was the end of the road
You didn’t reap in life, what you had sowed
And while your life ebbed within the wreck
The paparazzi zoomed in, to make hay off the break
Your blood-spattered close-ups drove them to frenzy
As you lay helpless, unattended and in agony.
And later in the night, mercifully all was darkness
The world woke to a tragedy caused by sheer madness
Alarm clock screams, it's time to rise,
bye bye sleepy dreams, into the lows from last night's highs,
ready yourself for the line or the cubicle cage,
tell yourself you'll be fine, while you silently rage,
what new rules will come today,
avoiding the fools and the sheep that bray,
newsmen divide and your social feed echoes,
be careful with your pride or you're suffering woes,
reach for the dial and your favorite noise,
mile after mile with a secret weapon of choice,
how much longer can you keep it up,
bosses are getting younger, bereft of common sense in their coffee cup,
peso and the rupee got more value than the dollar,
dwindling value of a college degree, into the streets they scream and holler,
women acting like men and men becoming women,
asinine feelings are destroying the true feminine,
can't afford the things you want to buy,
living on a shoestring brings a heavy sigh,
us and them have increasing identity,
moans from bedlam have become normality,
T.V shows have lost the plot,
anything goes, it's nothing but rot,
advert breaks are just for big Parma,
they've got the pills for your latest drama,
another fresh face in the workplace,
someone's son or daughter sent for the slaughter,
the old are pushed aside and the youth have no pride,
tradition has begun to crumble, careful where you tread, you may tumble,
no respect for the true and too much ego for the false,
skies and seas no longer blue, people too quick to highlight your faults,
isms and phobias are handed out,
while ancient axioms are argued about,
can't help worrying about people,
hurrying and scurrying and running up the big steep hill,
so many fragile egos seeking likes and clicks,
just beggars with an empty bag of tricks,
frettin' and sweatin' what you're not gettin',
no one cares you're not thrivin' or gettin' thin,
for a cheeseburger and fries is a quick and easy meal,
instant gratification is the prize, gotta satiate the current feel,
local store sells things from foreign soil,
globalization has many hells, but who really cares of anothers sweat and cheaper toil,
keep on, keeping on, with no true goal in sight,
you're a king or a queen, not a pawn, deep down you know life isn't right.
As we rallied to the Falklands cry,
And prepared ourselves to fight and die,
Some willing, some pressed, some volunteers,
All with deep down hidden fears.
Gangways gone, Hawser sip,
Sail Intrepid, fighting ship!!
Long hard days, sleepless nights
Working hard to get things right.
Ascension passed, Falklands closing
Argentine threat, everyone joking.
D Day troops- we pushed them through,
Still we laughed, so little we knew.
For us the war was still not real,
How could we know just what we'd feel.
Sympathy, hurt, pain and fears,
revulsion, hate, horror and tears
Bombs exploding - war is raging,
Begin to realise what we're facing.
Rockets loud and missiles firing,
Heroes living, heroes dying.
"Hit the deck" we hear the cry,
Please dear God I dont want to die
Air raid over, planes depart,
All quiet, that was just the start.
Weeks go past, countless plans
Intrepid:- Battle hardened veterans
Air raids come and air raids go
British Victory? Hopes they grow,
Ships hit, ships sinking,
People hurt, it gets me thinking,
So much pain and so much sorrow
Christ: it could be me tomorrow
Now at last Port Stanley taken
Argentine hopes, all are broken,
Britain has won, or have we really?
Peace has been paid for, very dearly.
Thousands of lives have been lost,
How can one start to count the cost!
Shortly, back to Britain will be the course,
Set by the victorious:- Task Force!
Into the arms of the waiting newsmen,
To be out on page one to page ten.
But when the publicity has all passed,
As I'm sure you know it cannot last,
Who'll remember the fallen lads,
Who gave their lives for the Falkland Islands.
The distant land no-one recalls,
Except when they bother to take a slight pause.
So take heed Politicians, look back over history,
And forget the Chivalry and the Glory.
They don' exist - lest not in this age,
Or can they in any future war we may wage.
Before you set forth on any crusade you may persue,
Remember the servicemen, you need to back you.
From this Epitaph, let one thing remain,
Don't even let one man have died in Vain!!!!!!
AEM(M)Clifford
20.6.82
Form:
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT
Air colder than the heart of death
Surrounds the champion teams
And crystals dance twixt every breath
To paint this Arctic dream
Critics who think these dogs coerced
To run in mighty races
Need only bask upon the sight
Of eager canine faces
Commands are sharp , mistakes are few
The lead dog thinks for all
And like a whisper wrapped in wind
He hears the mushers call
No whips or sticks strike dogs who lead
It’s months and years together
The musher and his dog who leads
Are minds that think together
As mushers wait and dogs stand tall
All eager to be gone
The darkness lurks beyond the lights
And in a shot they’re gone
Well-wishers line the barren streets
Where winds are arctic whips
While satellites will flash the sight
From warmth the newsmen quip—
Fools of Tourists dressed all wrong
will scoff at cold life dangers
These careless tourists wander off
At risk to rescue rangers
*Image of Ukraine Chronicles by PJC.
Top of the Charts 2023
1. putin was put in the hit list~~grateful dead now dead and company
play [14th-17th, Cancun, Mexico]
2. your feelings and emotions are left at the door~~on the welcome mat
3. a symptom flagging a rock star climbing the charts~~yellow backs
blues mark
4. hollywooders tip newsmen goodwill ball~~so sly even their stills move
5. hollywood moguls think stars ratings best in courtrooms~~not studios
6. libs think that what is central is between your legs~~not between
your ears
7. teens carded for smokes, alcohol, guns, and movies~~all comforts of
homes
8. kids study hard to be like dads~~first must beat dads in video games
9. it's hit or miss, sink or swim, tit for tat, lies or~~half-truths oh my gosh
10. your souls to God by friendly fire are tokens~~new arms shipment
arrived
11. newshounds must prove their news agency~~best way to I.D. their
bodies
12. make sure that the white flag you're waving is white enough~~and pray
for snow
13. west cash in alleys and street corners~~self-finance efforts and ship
drugs
14. demonrats are busy printing money~~publicans rehide the ink
15. for those who coerce the years of our past~~be prepared to raise the
dead
2023 January 13
*4th Place*
Hit list 2023
~~Joe Maverick: Judged 2023 February 10
*HMS; 17x15
November Ninth the President
By Franklin Price
11/9/2016
November ninth the president elect is thought to be:
Donald Trump with outside chance will get the victory.
It's nip and tuck and hardly fought; the vote count is not done.
There are states that are so close still hard to tell who won
Democrats have gone home, the hour's Two A.M.,
Will be no concession speech tonight from Hillary to him.
The newsmen on the TV are trying to look good;
Saying that they knew it, it has happened as it should
They make me sick the way they act. They've blocked him every way.
Now it looks as if he's won, they'll kiss his ass today.
I hope it doesn't turn around; have a foul called in the race.
We the People now have spoken; establishment we're in your face.
He may not be the smoothest, a politician he is not,
We all must get behind him to see what he has got.
We've heard all that he's promised, now he will get his chance.
We'll see if he's got two left feet, or if he can dance the dance
Don't know if that will happen, still not saying he's the best,
Only that he's won the fight and outlasted all the rest.
The hour is two forty, and we just got the pump
Hillary has conceded with a phone call to the Trump
The struggle's finally over now the good work can begin
Donald Trump's acceptance speech, said we'll make us great again
We'll fix America together, cooperation is the word
America will be great again; at least that's what I heard.
Slouch Hat
When you see the hat or hear the tune so fair,
you'll know what its about.
The old "Slouch hat" that our Digger's wear,
and the "Waltzing Matilda" no doubt.
Yes we have some pride in what we've done,
of the convict blood in this race.
We'll never be happy unless we've won,
to lose is a big disgrace.
Whenever asked, well we've been there,
to aid our friends in a War.
Our boys they've died, yes died with flair,
since the Breaker fought the Boer.
Well now we're multicultural, mixed, all sorts,
but all Aussies any rate.
New Aussies can be good at sports,
so say "Good on you mate."
It doesn't matter how smart you are,
don't try politics, be a clown.
You can be very popular,
till the newsmen pull you down.
Character assassination is their trade,
they cut tall poppies short.
Brainwashing by the sentence made,
they got Bondy didn't they sport?
When you see our Diggers on a farewell parade,
all races so proudly march there .
And the Waltzing Matilda so loudly is played,
it picks up your feet with its flair.
The Bayonets are fixed and Sabres displayed
for the Diggers its walking on air.
They're off to do battle with the tools of their trade,
the young and the brave proudly there.
by D H Johnson.
________________________________________
At Dalton town where I was born
in Ozark hills of home,
There lived a man named Leamon Brown
who plowed the rich, black loam.
His wife, a sweet and gentle soul,
did not foresee his bent,
she daily worked beside her man
who seemed to be content.
But in his heart a wrath appeared
to poison spirit's peace.
When reason left, his anger grew
and clawed to find release.
He stepped behind her where she sat
and bent to kiss her lips,
withdrew his blade and slit her throat
while blood streamed down her hips.
In panic's grip she fled the house
but stumbled soon and fell.
The children screamed in frozen shock
and dove straight into hell.
One son ran to his mother's side
and held her as she died.
His siblings hid from daddy's blade;
he stood there, glassy eyed.
As gossip spread like raging fire
of murder in our town,
the newsmen raced to pen details
as lawmen dragged him down.
His deed became the hottest news
to ever hit our town
The judge declared the man insane
this man named Leamon Brown
Now he is locked behind closed doors,
his wife lies in the ground.
Though we lament the children's fate,
his kids are sorrow bound.