Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nick armbrister May 2021
The News Bizz
Turn on the news what do you watch?
Buy a newspaper what do you read?
Browse an online news site to see what?
Download the local news app it says?
No matter when or where you get your news
No matter the time of day or location
On the toilet or in an airliner or in a bar
The main reason is why it happened
And why you read it

Do you want the latest updates in Asia?
The latest political happenings in Europe?
Military adventures in the Middle East?
All of this news is fake and made up
The ruling elite chose what happens
And the when and the why and make it
This is your news made by them
To keep us all under control
To scare and subjugate us
What can we do except wake up?
And then are we the news?
Nothing but pawns on a board
AE May 2021
I call out to you.
And the solemness in your broken irises
I call out to the dust on your hands
That sparkles when your tears fall onto them
How many battles have you fought?
How many times did you run from the rain?
Only to let the wind catch your hair
Like the kites above Kabul streets
How many hopeless dreams turned into nightmares?
Where heartbeats turned into the unspeakable silence
That follows the crushing of the world
Beautiful girl, you bleed out.
And I wonder how I can stop the bleeding
But my bandages can’t wrap your wounds
For they run deeper than the ground
And your child-like laughter
Filled with more life than any man
Echoes in the streets of Kabul
I call out to you
And I hear your silence
As it deafens the world
HTR Stevens Apr 2021
Standing tall among men was he,
Very humbly he called himself a 'refugee'.
He was the Queen's Consort, oft full of wit;
Yet in humour, he pretended to be a twit.
Some thought he stood among the gods,
Busy with so much he had no time for the Land of Nod.
In life steps behind the Queen he would always be;
At death carried high before the Queen and for all to see.
All the many good works he had done,
The world only knew at the set of his sun.
Purcy Flaherty Apr 2021
Media moguls
(The big six)

Media moguls, farming us like baboons, leaving just a flicker of our human potential; enough to consume.

A bitter machine, manufacturing and selling the illusion of fear and failure; ******* with our subconscious, spinning and expanding this dark material world; for nothing more than prestige and false profits.

There is more to life than this!
Wake up Space monkeys!
A constant stream of negativity, greed and desire.
Caleb Notte Mar 2021
To open their eyes
It's not disguised

Facts not opinion
Never marked as a minion

Stories broad and deep
For all my readers to keep

Cities abroad to discover
No room for a lover

Satisfied to raise
Even a bit of malaise

Another feature completed
Silence defeated

Penned with delight
Now it lives in plain sight
Creepypumpkins Mar 2021
I don’t watch the news for one simple reason
It’s stereotypes goths and punks
Not all of us are in the black occult
Not all of us are killers
Not all of us are either school shooters either


I don’t watch the Newfor one simple reason
They paint
People with mental health issues
In a very bad light
showcasing our bad sides


I do not watch the news for one simple reason
Foreign perpetuates hate
Anti-Semitism
Islam a phobia

Let’s turn off the TV said and think for ourselves as human beings as we are supposed to
Not as fearful robots and computers programmed to hate
Sara Brummer Jan 2021
News bursts from the media like
a ****** of crows smelling blood :
war, homelessness, racial tension,
we drown in a hurricane of bad news –
a thick growth of ugly impressions
like warts on the bark of an old tree.

Whoever invented this code
of exsitence, please don’t block
the light forever or let us become
estranged from tenderness,
made victims of virtual violence.

Give us back the season
we long for,caressed by
strokes of sunlight,
the precise and unexpected
beauty of a flower growing
among stones. From time
to time, give us a rainbow.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
Ginsburg threw me a line…

"on the black waters of Lethe", as I floated by.
A ware, launched in antiquity as tonal code,
lazily waiting the call,
dum did dum dum dum, drum drum drum

Big bass,
tickled in tune to the whistler washing dishes,
in the back, we've all seen
in the back, on TV

but are you,
really, for all reality is worth,
are you experienced, have you gone this far
before?

Have you changed a diaper on a rich old lady?

Seems like, right, one word to another,
line upon line, precepts perceptively retained.
Precious little is as it was.

Pre is a time-wise measure, how can we think
past thoughts,
we never cross the same river twice.

No question demands an answer in truth,
demands are put on servants, while we
are known as friends,
to all those floating on the Lethe,

well below the leavee, see, there those
same ol' good ol' boys discerning whiskey from rye.

They see time's a river, and I agree,
says this story to me, but
I say, it is a river of light on a bubble's inner edge,
I been there, Age of Lethe, a game I invented,

-- a virus, plays by lethargic rules, no effort needed,
living to steal and **** and destroy,

a minimalist First Person Shooter, steal **** destroy,

then it was hacked, steal **** destroy, mutated into
take **** destroy give,

which was odd, because all truth comes in three
pointy things, if then else
oops opposites spoo ffffffff effect

****** drama writ large, it was us,
the muses, dis-mazing the mazed again
a loss of time,
too bad. Three points equal one try. Aim.

So sad. Grieve for the fallen all we never knew,
the heroes unsung.

Goto the ant, thou sluggard living in a floating Barco
Lounger, drifting aimless--- ah, what if not,

what if I know a place,
just around the next bend, and

we get off there? What then, it's my story?
May the best meanings imagined in the message of christ, the entire idea, of peace on earth and good will to ward men, be reconciled in truth none may deny and not liel
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
America, is that you?
Your stars are looking dim.
Stripes look nice on prison clothes,
but yours are wearing thin.

America, is that you
there behind the mask?
Of course, I too, am wearing mine.
You don't need to ask.

America, is that you
angry in the street,
smashing windows, spreading fire?
And is your dream complete?

America, was it you
I saw on evening news
dancing like a circus monkey,
speaking as you're cued?

America, is that you
propped up by the wall
with little men surrounding you,
waiting for your fall?

America, use your voice
and let me know it's you.
I can't hear much over the noise
that's coming from the zoo.

America, it must be you,
though I can hardly see.
I'm feeling for you in the dark.
America, it's me.
Next page