The less important
Every TV channel
carries
the same news, it is as posted from a news
central Trump is good, is Putin bad
and no one asks about its verity
by some nice people who look sincere.
I'm overcome by angst
it starts from the inside going out
my skin is grey and pale and sweat drips on
my T. shirt.
I should know but I can`t find the source of
its conception, but I try something about
eyes and in them, I read, surprised by the oncoming
I saw him fall
heard the crack of a broken neck
Walking away, nothing I could do but
stepping over an inert body and into boisterous life
I know I might sound crazy
And perhaps I am insane,
But my trip to the farm
Exploded on my brain.
I know that I know, that I know
I heard that cow go moo,
But the expert on the news
Just tore my heart in two.
I was sure the expert was wrong,
When he said that indeed
He heard the cow say “Buzzzt”.
I turned the TV channel
To watch the picture show,
Then the actor came on
And confirmed the news expert
Was right that the cow went “buzzzt.”
Soon the buzzing was everywhere
And it just gnawed at my brain,
I knew that the cow said moo,
But it was driving me insane.
Images on the computer,
Sound shorts on the YouTube,
Even on the shirts of my friends
And the clerks at the grocery store,
The cow says “Buzzzt.”
If only they would go to the farm,
and hear for themselves,
Is all it would take to see-
But they don't want to go,
Because I am crazy.
I might not be the expert,
But I know I am not insane,
I heard that cow go moo,
And I am not playing game.
No one goes down to crazy town
they stay put or don't care,
but floods seep
tides rise
snakes swim.
Crazy town does not knock
before it comes in.
Murderous are the many
who though few
do much when they do.
Bedlam glowers
bawls naked from gothic bell towers,
the batty belch bawdily
in the public square.
The cops run guns drawn
but they run the other way.
Crazy runs the subway
green are the goblins of crime.
Crazy craps in the street,
rats deplore the mess;
it's all so cruddy and awful
change the tv channel,
or turn the volume down
on high-jinxing, carjacking,
dog nabbing,
crazy town.
~~FEAR IS A WEAPON~~
To steal the calmness from your
soul's calm vibrations.
Thus~ stop listening to the news.
A fear mongering sensation!
We eat and swallow it whole,
like a fresh apple off a tree.
Then we contact our friends, we
make fear, their commanding reality.
Agreement on fear and our end is
near, you will f'ind here in far too
many verses.
Instead of our dreaming of bright
tomorrows, we dream of black hearses.
It's so insane to believe all these
medical lies.
The no honor news, makes people think
we are dying like flies.
The co-morbidity numbers of deaths
are mostly unknown.
And one TV channel, posts the
numbers 24/7, more than a tad overblown.
The vaccine, people, wake up,
will not save your ****!
Nor the mask police, the biggest, most
obnoxious farce.
Do your own wise research and read
between the lines.
You will find the TV numbers, skewed,
and the recovery rate is quite high!
September 22, 2020
7:30pm PST
This new virus is a party,
A party island wide.
From town to town, quarantine.
Come in,
You won't miss the luxury you had abroad,
It's complete with food to make your mouth water.
This new virus is a party,
It's complete with free wi-fi.
Forget your burning fever,
You're being well cared for,
Complete with your favourite TV channel.
Come in,
If you do, you'll feel richer than a king,
It's complete with staff waiting on your every need.
This new virus is a party,
It's complete with free wifi.
I don't know why you ever leave,
But I guess you felt sorry for us,
So did you come to bring us this party?
Come in,
You can dance all night in a cocoon of a room,
Free of others weird glances and jesting laughs,
This new virus is a party,
A party island wide.
From town to town, quarantine.
* I simply wish those idiots who run away from quarantine to find their brains and get themselves cured at least, if they don't think of others. I'm sorry to give such a picture about Srilankans, but this is purely what I feel.
It's not about us they think,
as they change the tv channel.
It's not about us they think,
As they turn the
pages of the news paper
It's not about us they think,
as they scroll through their
timeline.
It's not about us.
It's not about us.
It's not about us they think,
As they continue enjoying
their Privileg.
The Privileg of Peace and comfort.
It's not about us.
It's not about us.
Until the tables turn.
Until your family and friends
are been dragged out of
their houses.
Until you are been sold.
Until you are on the
Receiving End.
It's not about us.
It's not about us
Said the bystander
As they kept on walking
Ignoring the screams and Pain
of the victims
They head.
It's not about us they think
until karma catch up to them.
For the whole time, it is the concubine
can stay till night from hours so early
none can distract, not even life combine
anytime to watch makes green the valley
joy from shows and talks nothing can suppress
one miss injures with a terrible scar
entertainment so great and nothing less
no matter its length, one will go as far
next is the stop but keeps the run further
music or movie, more views they induce
change channel or get a life, it’s neither
sticks to the flat screen no matter the dues
a day long fun makes worse this weird state
one who respects time will be a wise mate.
All my life, up until now, The TV channel playing in my head late at night even after I have gotten out of bed, has only been a test pattern. Then a voice called out my name didn't know from where it came. But now it was like watching a channel never seen before, just follow the narrator's whisper, and things started to turn out all right I could really be like sir Lancelot the real White knight weak In body but strong in spirit. Drawing the innocent near my shield reflecting brilliant light, yet blinding those who abused there might. I finally realized the whisper came One not in my sight, but there all along with all of his might, just waiting for me to trust and believe, then I would be capable of such great deeds. Wearing the polished armor of God and mounted on the sturdy Steed directed by the Spirit what direction to gallop, when leaving the safety of the castle to ride thruout the lands, to duel the black knights and rescue fair maidens from their plight, locked deep in castle walls dark as night.
The Relentless
I know, do not remind me, but today I saw my father
On TV, he is 110 and can dance salsa, so if I´m like him
I have years of gymnastic prowess
I rang the TV channel asked for my dad´s address, they
didn’t tell me against policy....ok.
I´m tenacious like the Wiesenthal centre pursuing war
criminals to their grave and spitting on it, because their
ideology to the pursue of old crimes have no limitation
nor forgiveness, but my father wasn´t there, his voice
was ensnaring women
A, this centre of vengeance has a duty to follow the old
Nazis to the point of ridiculousness, the lowliest guard
at a concentration camp will do an old face in the papers.
Alas the money well is drying out even evil Nazis have to
die and get a Christian burial.
And one wonders if a new law is being made that gives
the right of the survivors to follow and righteously
demand that the grandchildren of the wronged should
benefit too we remember the pain because a corny eye
demands ritual repentance.
Cookery Programs
Chunky fists hit the kitchen sink...hard
on every TV channel.
So manly they are we are not queers
but 100% men,
no flowery aprons for us.
Cooking was what women did before,
but no more,
now you get the Sunday roast with added
aggression and swearing.
The kitchen has been turned into
a battle field of egocentric men who´s
ambition is to be the best in
the rarefied world of cookery
It is not about you the diner.
When the kitchen soldiers put food
on your plate,
they try to make it into a work of art
when all you wanted was a steak and fried onions
at a friendly price.
A Famous TV Station
She has the bland face of a Fox newscaster, not a hair
out of place; yes, and shapely legs too. Faithfully she
repeats the station’s political opinion, not a word out of
place. The male commentators are even worse as they
try to look intellectual, lies through their teeth but they
are well paid and careful of having an original thought
under their coiffeur heads. Like actors, in a Technicolor,
Cary Grant movie of middle class USA, a mono culture
that never existed. Voracious meat eaters with gigantic
white teeth which sparkle under studio light as fake pearls.
Yet for millions of viewers this is where they seek the news
and think they are served the truth. Is this what is called
the great American dream?
A red plastic coffee container with a hole drilled in front makes a perfect
blue bird house. Working and building a nest for their family,
working nonstop today.
God's drama unfolding before me; God's perfect plan, witnessed.
Tragedy sometimes comes and the babies don't make it...
At times there is joy and a new generation of bluebirds starts a
new journey from a bird house we made for them. Now I look
out my window and see the transformation of a coffee
container to a home. Like a DIY TV channel, right when
I need some entertainment. The bluebird show has brought
me hope and contentment today.
Thanks everyone for the comments to help me get my
thoughts going the right way!!
Scots teenager
Air gun
Rabbits and Ducks
Gunned down for the fun
Then there came a day
When this boy and gun
No longer desired
This type of fun
A programme he watched
On a TV channel
A guy called Attenborough
Truth, no flannel
His care for the animals
Left me ashamed
Of all the Ducks and Rabbits
I injured and maimed
He opened my eyes
In such a way
I can't kill a fly
Not even with spray
And over the years
And the places he's been
What he has brought me
To my Television screen
Madagascar Lemurs
Yaks from Nepal
Amazing Amazonia
Glorious them all
My respect for him
Prompted me
Two lines in my poem
" My Dinner Table " for thee
There are not many people
I crave to meet
But this Gentleman Attenborough
I'll shake his hand as we greet
" Honoured to be in Christopher Higgins contest "