I watched the morning newscast
and found my mind straining to
get out.
Out into a widening desert,
sky open and black above save for
the piercing light of billions of stars
like holes in a living room curtain.
You can call me crazy for it,
but I thought I saw Ginsberg
looking at me through the window
with a sunflower behind his ear.
In fact, I'm almost certain this was anything but an hallucination as my cat pounced at the window
(she never liked my poems either, Allen)
and startled me back into reality.
The television, right, the newscast.
Nuclear bombs and
tariffs on Mexican goods and
oh look, the president is playing golf with the Queen.
I turned it off when I saw he hit a bogey,
parted the curtains, and thought, "That's it, I'm pleading insanity. See you in Bellevue, Allen."

For viewers,
I’m adjusting
my face
and while
foraging though
the trunk
full of masks
and manufactured
convictions,
a sack of
amusing diversions
spills into view,
all of it lacking
convincing connection
or anchor…

I’m the
Houdini
of human communion
vanished again
into smoke,
a phantom floating
in air
left behind
for your
entertainment.

It's a cold heart that neglects what horror and darkness a person must go through to even think about suicide as an alternative to living, to a mind that has gone numb from the terror of drawing in another breath, to eyes that have gone blind to things that were once beautiful, to a person who has been gripped so tight by depression that the silence of being crushed under the weight of the earth is the last sound they want to hear.
Living can be hard, for anyone, no one is free from suffering, illness, death, we all have our battles, both private, public, family, etc... and at the end of the day in that moment between sleep and dream, all of of us are alone.  Alone with our demons and thoughts and prayers and despair, some more aware and some more blissfully not so.  The world is a scary ******* place right now, there is a **** load of bad things happening every moment of every ******* day.  It's not the devil running around **** *** naked spraying his jizzum of evil down upon our heads but it's the evil of mans own invention and indifference to each other.  We should be moving forward as a species and a community and a world... together.  And yet, somehow, with all our fancy tech and intellect and possibilities... we're not.  I'm not going to lie... daily headlines and newscast make me somewhat envious of those who found themselves able to pay the price for the luxury of suicide.  I mean, ******* come on... how can you not think every now and then... **** THIS PLACE!... it's truely a **** hole at times, people can be ******* horrible and are ******* horrible far too often.  Human misery spreads like cancer and the masses eat it up like it's a candy necklace wrapped around some ancient deities **** causing poisonous sugar to rush through their blood to fuel an ideology of hate so old no one could tell you when or how it started.  And the saddest part, sitting on the couch being ignored like a nerdy kid back in the 80's, is love...  and no one wants to sit by it and get cooties.  No, we're all to cool for that.  It's all about pretending to have good intentions and insta-gratification and self-degradation and hey hey hey look at me me me first and gimme gimme gimme...
This isn't everyone, and the world isn't absolutely beyond hope... but you would have a hard time arguing that the shadows aren't overpowering what little beauty there is left.
And that's hard knowledge to live with...
Then add on top of that, private and personal struggles no one else is aware of, or worse shrugs off or dismisses as nothing serious.  The signs aren't always easy to read... speaking from personal experience, it is far to easy to carry a lot of weight and fear and self loathing while wearing a plastic smile in public.   Some things seem too personal or embarrassing or what the **** ever to share sometimes and its just easier to say "I'm ok" than try to explain how terrible and dark and alone our hearts feel and our thoughts get.  It's real easy for the whole world to feel empty when that moment we experience between sleep and dream follows us through ever waking moment.   And it's easy to be mad and ****** and heartbroken when we read the word "suicide" in yet another headline... but what's harder is to imagine what that person must have been going through in that last moment between life and death.  It's harder to be human and feel compassion and empathy towards the departed, it's hard to walk up to the nerdy kid called love sitting on the couch and say, "****, I'm sorry I neglected you and ignored you"... but it's going to be harder and harder to read that headline over and over again.  So, for anyone, anyone at all, the couch love is sitting on is pretty ******* big and its nice and warm and cushy, so if your world feels empty, come sit down, we can talk, we can cry, we can just shut the **** up and be empty and alone together... what ever you need, I'll be here.

Upon his glottal’s larynx spreads a lingual deformity. Isolation as a result from tuggo disaffiliates. Misshapen promontory in the direction of upper-body inflammation. Not only above torso alone, location;head/injury;mouth/main informative;tongue.
The boy’s tongue was permanently horned. A horn of 18 inches shy, where taste buds formulate, he owned a lone spike. He wasn’t abraded by the unfoldment of onlookers around. His irregular attachment was a main confidant. Criticized, he was not welcomed by towns near. Citizen’s were baffled and disgusted, ridiculing him daily, he did not impale with grieve over appearance. Enmity he wanted and craved. Among the works of flesh, square inch niches, repugnance revealed. Revenge, revenge. Vindictive spirit shelled so timely and calm. Remaining this state of sumptuous integrity made him stronger each go about. These goes were so stimulus, adding to the *** of hatred. Deep into the tundra’s most vile he intruded. Went so every month or few, for weeks at a time. For this sheet of rigid earth so contiguous to the town made the worried weary, the skeptical seared, and the nautical not so knitted with directional sense. This was his consummation of gathering. The place of being a being. The dry winter amid eight months was restricted, so the moment a due mustn’t be bothered. He had his reason of validness for course. A rich succulent from the bearings of plant life on cliffs. Repelling an obstacle such as was ludicrous for even one born the ever so adequate and society defined norm. Now having a tongue with a horn, some sought might as well die to be reborn. He had to, to stay alive. The liquid, which sit so treacherous, was the mold to mouth medicine. To speak at all it must be attained. Not only a curdling death trap waiting to swallow, the boy had to get a plentiful amount for the hard hitting winters collied. His tongue could swell like the storms, loud crimson on the esophagus. To die of asphyxiation was his dodge of ultimatum.
While passing by a local television in a thrift shop-
“Today’s Newscast: Blizzards, moving in at speeds of 94 mph. Predicted to cover like a blanket for 12 months. Ice Age relative people, this one is gonna be big! Stay indoors at night, the barometric’s indicate that from 9PM to 4AM temperatures as low as 28- will stouten for the next year. Once again people, stay indoors at these hours, get your needs when available. Back to you Ronda with the quintuplets birth today!”
Plucked and grit witted he stood. He felt the trepidation of abhorrence swaying in orbit around him. How to emanate from this delay? At least five clones of self did not exist for him. Merriment struct pro, while the cons derived from which they know. Exultation when despondent, how greatly that gift could gab. Despoilment of that, he weighed options out. To altercate thick snow or simply, let it go. Afraid to die unrivaled, the off cutting is wisest. Since his first second to now he’s flourished with his horn. Obliteration to the occulted manifestation mannered as an antique replica of anyone catching him by twice by day. Remove it, remove it, remove if you want life in your years that follow. Remove it, ever so. Remove it, cut and sew. Cut and sew. Remove.
This plateau poisoned place stay calm, anticipating climate of tempest bold reaches, anyone who was anyone was not so. Negative degrees. How could he retaliate the opposite, while acquiring a surgeon field hay day buck builder? Eruption turns the wave of cons. An only equal precision, deciding, tonight is the night. To assemble the tools, publicly was questionable, no more, through. He will emerge to the lands and people a new man, sustained, and hornless. No more. From scratch he will vender what’s needed. Wood was chiseled under the last moon viewed for three sixty three days ahead. Uprooted vines of old pine will hold the bark tight. Breath revealing around the outsides of his appendage. Like a fork in the road, which way can you go, for him air strides both. Scuffling fearful towards the pike of the tundra, he is where wanted by none. A be all end all as you could alleviate ones slightest sympathy, the courage it takes, ****** immense. His sweat was not seen, but there it consists. One hand grappled around his earthly dagger, tongue positioned in an outward arrangement. Travail glowing all over him as an aura unlanguid with no disruption veering. Abound now, without great weight on his shoulders, he’s lived. Ascending keen eyes towards the blood bath around his feet, going both ways around the fork and road. After relinquishing his steady gavel, the checking of his pulse is counted. 5, 6, 7, 8, seconds, still life to live. For the very first ritual to come, placed in his mouth, the tongue. The rigid roof so unfamiliar and new he bestowed in his joy of such a common flank. The tundra felt warm as he inside let over pour. Once more a milder gasp as he vociferates to the last moon for the year. On his peak, and favored place of being, he let out his tongue. Sharp inclement so hawkish and frosted he felt. The lilliputian of no pain, heeded by first snow to wane.

Ordered for us
their portrayal of
selected happenings..
the Real news
on horizon becoming
are silent discoveries
hidden from view
by a few reporters
looking out there
but inward at
the same Time..
their startling
bits of news
waking result of
polarities at play..
Newscasts with
only outward attention
may someday find
viewers retreating..
half truths
hardly digestible...

Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.

I am the past and I am the present. I am the digger of graves and the conveyance to them.
I am the string; connected to the puppets that wield my blows.

I am the thing they call, “Havoc” I am the Blue Monkey.

The key to my cage, that which sets me free is your disinterest, your apathy and hate. My freedom to roam unabated is your ignorance, and retribution’s ****** slate.  Man’s violence upon himself is my ignorant inspiration, and I revel in the thought of his de-creation.

I can be found in city and town, in far flung reaches around the world. I can be seen in newscast scenes, I can be found in the eyes of a starving child. My name is celebrated in ball ammo flight, and the pungent aroma of smoke and cordite.

I am the flame set to irreverent crosses; lighting the sky with racist delights, I am the tailor of white sheeted banners so bias. I am the unjustified 13 knots of retribution, fashioned on the hangman’s noose.

I am the thing they call “Havoc” I am the Blue Monkey.

Complacency is my friend, Revenge, my *****. Blood letting my delight, to even senseless scores. My hands are soiled with the lives of many, and I have been given freedoms in place of your outrage. Look around in farm and town, in village and city streets, my presence is everywhere…

Keep sleeping; keep sleeping,
For when you awake, I shall have to go.

I am the vehement articulations of opinion and rhetoric, and in spite of your diatribes,
It is they that give me wing. I am the developer of future battlefields. I was the architect of the Auschwitz oven, the builder of the Berlin wall. I was the sharpened blade of Tutsi, Hutu cleansings. I am the mix master of Jim Jones’s cool aide. I am confusion; I am disassociation, alienation and empty pride.

I am the thing they call “Havoc” I am The Blue Monkey.

You will find me in back alley shooting dens, on skid row’s bleeding pavement.
You will find me in lonely fields and dark forests, within the graves of the murdered unknown. You will see my reflection in broken mirrors, for I celebrate their fall,
And I will revel in the screams of your unheard call.
They call me destruction; I am your neutron bomb. I am the wings of the Enola Gay at thirty thousand feet, reaching out to touch you. With nuclear, holocaust treats.
I am dynamite, TNT, I am the thought imposed in political superiority. I am the IED
On the path of Man’s sacred journey.  I am travail and tribulation.

I am the thing they call “Havoc” I am the Blue Monkey.

I am the summation of all your perceived wrongs, and yet you tarry about,
Clanging self-righteous gongs,
You see, but you are blind, you listen but do not hear. Instead you wallow in the pits of self loathing and determinate fear. And in that fear, it becomes quite clear that indeed your hearts are closed, for to open them wide would cause your heart to collide with the awful truth about me.

Yes, keep sleeping; and sleep well,
For when you awake, I shall have to go.

For I am the thing they call “Havoc” I am the Blue Monkey…

As tis I've noticed in this new dawning age, men and women used to know what the real meaning of love was. Men used to open doors for their women, men would take care of all of their women's needs, and treat her as a queen, as if you notice hardly any men no more call their women Queen's anymore. They've put them on magazines to be eyed down by perverted men, the media and newscast makes it as if ( normalcy) to lust. To put a false reality in man's head. To make young BOYS and men alike think " gee, these women ( actuality being Queens) are nothing more than a ****** object, nothing more good to life than to be a ****** object, material, and slave to man's wants and devlish desires... As verily, I tell you, Satan is behind the magic screen, in spiritual realm, and on our own hellish planet. As my god of Christ taught which BTW don't care what you feel of mine own beliefs. The scripture sais (Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.).. 1st Peter chap 5 verse 8....as truth is Satan walks around seeking who he may devour.. He's a master schemist and artist at falsehood. As man is following the way of him.. Man since a young age has been taught the woman is a slave. A *** object. A material, which sickens me to see men these days all around this earth call women their ( *****, *****, ***, ****, ****, the list can go on....... As I don't like to *** whatsoever I don't believe in cussing, just because I don't *** doesn't mean I'm better than those of you who do BTW. Just my god taught for one to bridle our tounge, meaning ( hold it back,) and to watch how we speak. Because how we say things is an example of who we are and what be believe.... As I said I'm not better than any of you as some may think that I think that I am better... I'm a sinner Im no saint I'm just giving you truth ones may not seek to hear or listen to... We are suppose to speak holy in a way at least not in that manner... And for a man to call a queen ( **** or *****) he has lost sight, a woman was put here to be loved, cherished and treated as a queen, a jewel, a gem. A treasure!! if you would go out in the desert and look for gold . wouldn't you treasure that treasure? Wouldn't you respect it? As you would yourself? If you even have respect for you? If you do not respect yourself I pray you will see your own beauty friend, as god doesnt want us like that, and wants us to cherish our queens and loves... And it isn't just men, fact is women to do same to men, call their men ( *******, so on) can't you see? We are here to cherish, comfort, and love another beings,  many ask the ??? Who believe and don't believe in God... What is your purpose eh? For one your purpose is to love. That's the fulfilling of gods law. Whether you believe in him or not we are put here to love cherish and forgive another and comfort another. As I say always. Without forgiveness there is NO love, and without love there is No forgiveness.... You must have both. As do I notice daily so much hatred for your fellow man, and even pets/and animals around the world, you **** another, and hurt, and hold onto grudges against another.   Don't you see??? God taught us to forgive. You wanna know why forgive?? Because when you hold onto those grudges of past pain's and anger against another... It hurts you more than it does the other person. And for one God doesn't want that for you. He wants us happy. He wants us not slave to our angers and hurt and fears... As so many hold back their love BTW because of fear of everything. And we wonder why we aren't moving ahead in life. Yes the human in me fears things to. I'm not perfect but when it comes to love, why hold back? Why? When tommorrow we might not have another chance to forgive one or to love the people we truly do in this life... And then when we die we have to carry that burden or anger, hurt, regret and the things we ( didint say, or do) onto the next life... And that is a far bigger burden than I need or anyone else does friends... And people these day's will put all their time into car's, money, homes, materials, earthly things!!! Which yes, are wonderful to have... But what if that lover you love that you show no love to or have been mistreating or putting on the back-burner dies today? Or tommorrow? You'd regret every last minute as the ones who have lost their loved ones whether family,moms, dads, brothers, sisters, wives, husband, boyfriends, girlfriends, so on have found out... When they loose sight of what's important, love , then we loose who we are, we loose all meaning to what life should be about.... Love... And if you loose sight of love. Surely you've lost sight of what your life should be about .....to many take life and love for granted, Maby you should take a look at what's important, because in the next life we can't carry our money, cars. Or houses, or materials on, we only have our souls, and the things meaning actions, love, and feelings we have onto the next life... Maby you should think of that


God bless,
Brsndon nagley


©Brandon Cory nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©love and truth and thoughts...

May 13, 2016
1:00 a.m.
"Grasping for straws, again!" It's amazing to me, that when we start aproaching  my age, how we start reflecting on events that, at the time of their occurence, were not important. Case in point:
Lubbock, Texas, September, 1953, if memory serves. During that time local television stations, at noon, always had a 15 minute newscast, followed by another 15 minutes of "public service programing, featuring upcoming events in the surrounding communities. This time of year, it was always the "South Plains Fair."
My brother, Bill, and I belonged to a volunteer service group that was scheduled to appear on such a program aptly titled "Hospitality Time." Also scheduled was a country western band that was to perform at the fair. I can't recall the name other than they were associated with a circuit called "The Louisiana Hayride",  similar to the "Grand 'ol Opry", both very popular on the radio, you do remember 'radio', don't you?"
Prior to the telecast, we got into a conversation with one of the musicians, who 'plunked' on his guitar while waiting for their call.He turned out to be the lead singer. Not being a country music fan, I  didn't pay much attention to them, after all, it was "just for the Fair." After they finished and were leaving, he turned to my brother and me, and said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't until a couple of years later, when I realized that we had met, and talked with, Elvis Presley.
copyright: richard riddle: 05-13-2016

She had a beauty that boomed like thunder,
distant on the newscast- while some family
stood by the wreckage of their lives after
the storm (somewhere in Oklahoma) and,
it made you want to cry, like a newly made
widow, who’s story would follow at the top
of the hour: people described her with -

vibes a lot, but nothing vibrated, it was more
like an explosion, but not like a backpack in
Gaza, more like the Fourth of July, in Ohio.

It was hard to see her by looking directly:
you had to find her in angles and moonlight,
and even then you weren’t sure in the same
way that sometimes you can’t see the stars
because the constellations get in the way.
She made me think of Miami, but I couldn’t
say if it was more Miami than Miami, or just
what was left …

…of imperfect pictures painted by a sculptor
that wasn’t always paying attention at the
right time.

Sitting silently in my chair
watching you intently.
quietly so that you do not
notice my observing.
The years have run by like a deer
No matter what issue
we face you stay calm.
Deal with it and let it pass.
I see you as the glue
that holds this place together.
I do not remember the last time
I had to worry about the children..
The newscast shows carnage and death.
It flickers across your face unnoticed.
Wearing your silence
like a comfortable Sunday sweater.
I wonder sometimes
just what you are thinking about.
All I know is the fact
you are the island I need.
Peaceful and solid, the anchor
that holds me safe in this harbor.
You have the strength
I borrow to face adversity.
You are the sun at the center
of my small universe.
It’s no wonder I love you.

They asked if I wanted to go North,
I asked if there was any place further
South,
They shook their heads side to side,
I said I needed time, was there absolutely
any place else,
They shook their heads side to side,
I asked if there was still room for me here
with my wife and children so near,
They shook their heads side to side,
"besides" said one, "they are not going
anywhere that you cannot come back,
to the gravesides"
I looked them in the eye
They shook their heads side to side
I went for a break found myself in front
of a newscast, somewhere in the world
there was one two three terrible clashes,
somewhere on the west coast of some
distant promised landing, a bottling giant was
guzzling profits while emptying Mother
Earth, her name is Aquafir,
if that was not enough some part of the
under under cover part of a government
arm admitted that Area 51 exists but it
is more like a farm, something stinks and
there is allot of *******.

I went back and looked them in the eye
and asked how long I'd be away and they
said, "until you die"
I can come back to visit.
They nodded up and down
"once a year" they said and each one had
a frown.
I changed my heart to get away from this
insane place we know, has become, I will find my
peace far from this madding crowd,
as long as they don't find me if they come
looking from, the top of the world, down.
If they do
I will shake my head
side to side, instead
of choosing who is right,
so leave me to find my peace
my mind, until I see my loves
once more.

I can't remember
a night when I wasn't lulled to sleep
by the comforting sound of gunshots

I try
every night
I dig a little deeper
a little further back
nothing yet

Instead I remember
the night my father
carrying the triggerman's burden
turned the barrel on himself

I dig back further
to Mom's face
her soulless eyes
and the impatient hunger of an
starving child

The first time I watched  a man die
it wasn't a man anymore
they told me
just like my mother wasn't
my mother anymore

Further still
to the newscast
warning everyone to stay
inside their homes
glass shattering
my father's shotgun
pulled from retirement

I dig deeper
a faint and fuzzy
barely breathing memory
Dad smiling
the plop of a lure in the water
a tug on the line
excitement
laughter
more tugging and

BANG

****!
I lost it

While looking at the television newscast.
You realize you're watching the news robots.
Simply because they have no freedom to be free.

They work required restrictions.
They told the way to dress.
The way to act.
And the news they can report under guidelines.

The teleprompters are their best friends.
Especially for those without glasses.
But prefer the contact lens.

Jerry Springer once stated.
The news is about pretty people reporting.
And if you notice his words are true.
If the news robots deny it.
They trying to pull the wool over you.

Ask yourself?
How many ugly folks reports the news.

Many news systems works underhanded.
That's why many has been branded.
Things won't change anytime soon.

But notice the National Enquire's delivering truth too.
But then I could have been talking about the news too.


When it comes to them hardly any.
But with pretty folks -there are plenty.

Tonight
When I entered my apartment
The stairs were lying like tired men after a hard day's work
The door a yawning mouth
My TV was listening intently to the sports newscast
And
Like a ******* woman, the couch was sitting on the floor  
Hardly breathing the used air
The curtain tickled the cheek of the window……
Swaying gracefully above
My books slept like babies on the hands of the bookshelves
The dining table was listening to the whispers of her chairs
The lamps were winking at to each other
The fan was busy flailing her arms indifferent
In my apartment
The life looks the same as I left it  
Everything is normal
No,  
It is more than normal
Strange…….
No one missed me?

A hound bus in the maintenance garage
But it was the thief thinking in his own barrage
When the workers weren’t around
The Thief stole the bus without making any sound
The Hound’s slogan, “Leave the Driving to us”
The Thief’s slogan, “Steal the Hound Bus being a must”
That is just what happened
Hound bus 7888 was driven from the yard onto New Jersey Turnpike
I-95 bound for anywhere
The Thief’s thought, I-95 was my escape route with no jive
Yet Helicopter Newscast were reporting high above I-95
The Hound bus was chased entire length of the turnpike
But if the NJ Turnpike Police don’t act quick, the Hound Bus could cross the Pennsylvania state line
The Thief knew how to drive that Hound bus, I guess in his prior life, the Thief was part of the company’s us
Yet the chase continued to go on, but not until the Hound bus ran out of gas
The Thief’s driving fast that didn’t last
Well the Thief forgot the gas tank up
The Thief became his own Maxwell house to a finished cup
A Hound bus having its own bite in crime
But justice was served with the Thief doing time.

Emperor of a frozen domain

*The newspaper headlines
and the TV newscast
pour blood onto my kitchen table.
It’s unmistakable odor
Mixing with coffee and toast.
Has it always been like this?
A world of dark shadows
with ****** and hatred
hiding in every dark alley.
Take me back to innocence
Where childish pastimes
took me through simpler shadows.
Where damage was recoverable.
Born of lost loves and things
I left undone.
And even shadows
grew paler over time.
I now sit among coffee
and armchairs.
Enthroned over a frozen land.
Old and frail.
The emperor of a frozen domain.

While looking at the television newscast.
You realize you're watching the news robots.
Simply because they have no freedom to be free.

They work required restrictions.
They told the way to dress.
The way to act.
And the news they can report under guidelines.

The teleprompters are their best friends.
Especially for those without glasses.
But prefer the contact lens.

Jerry Springer once stated.
The news is about pretty people reporting.
And if you notice his words are true.
If the news robots deny it.
They trying to pull the wool over you.

Ask yourself?
How many ugly folks reports the news.

Many news systems works underhanded.
That's why many has been branded.
Things won't change anytime soon.

But notice the National Enquire's delivering truth too.
But then I could have been talking about the news too.


When it comes to them hardly any.
But with pretty folks -there are plenty.

Why are there pretty people upon the newscast?
The ones that seem like a magazine model.
Saying things according to script.
Who has signed contracts to not give their own opinions?

In my personal view and opinions.
Let me be surrounded by the simple folks.
Those that keeps it real even if it's a joke.

Who isn't into trying to keep up an image.
Even address issues within their marriage.
Or any relationship.

Yes, the simple folks.
Who would fit in anywhere they went?
Yes, the simple folks.

They accepts you as you are.
Live accordingly to how they feel.
Don't hate upon others because of a few.
More likely to defend them, if they not bothering you.

Yes, the simple folks.
The ones that brings common sense to the world.
Who truly believes in God's word
But doesn't debate it, if you chose not too.

First to say to each their own.
First to welcome any neighbor into their home.
That's the simple folks.

Entertainers moves according to the popular movement.
Simple folks moves according to the people movement.

Be yourself.
Don't be determine by anyone else.

Back from Iraq 4/04


my son just got back from his second tour in Iraq

no ticker-tape parade
no welcome home celebration
no media coverage

“Good Morning, America” doesn’t spoil breakfast
with the newscast
no one should see the caskets
being unloaded from the plane
the 23 flag draped caskets

they do show pictures of prisoner abuse this day
as yesterday
and the day before

my son just got back from his second tour in Iraq

the first time my son came home was with fanfare
every television channel
“Mission Accomplished,” resounded the banner
behind our president
on the aircraft carrier
thumbs up
dressed as a genuine military man

my son just got back from his second tour in Iraq

the stock market reports
an upward surge in Halliburton this day
the television airs a commercial
approved by John Kerry
condemning jobs sent to other nations
not mentioning Mexico
nor his wife of Heinz fame
or the 23 flag draped coffins

my son just got back from his second tour in Iraq

my son is in the plane
the plane with the 23 flag draped caskets
he serves on the flight crew

my son just got back from his second tour in Iraq

23 other sons just got back
from their tours in Iraq
they won’t have to return
but my son most certainly will

Dancing with snowflakes
Dancing Feet with the rhythmic winds...
Holiday Seasons...
Sweet love and sugar cookies and cakes.
Memories of a childhood of such moments
caught in my mind's eye like a live newscast
Brings forth future chuckles
as future broadcasts span across the globe
Like a fine wine..
Such gets sweeter when age adds to the formats
to elder's ages
growing in strength and numbers
Here we go...toasts to the cheers
of these sovereign time placemats.

News, runs with the report.
Blaming the newspaper which blames the newscast.
With acts innocent about their reported story.

Funny, how you can wash your hands of being responsible?

News at 5 change by news at 6 and more facts proven by 10 or 11.
And if you're a dial switcher you will find one with more truth to its report in details.

Similar to checking out the Gospels in scriptures.

Like gun owners that hides behind the 2nd amendment.
We see th news hides behind the first.

Funny, how you wash your hands of being responsible?

FLASH: BREAKING NEWS! The President of the United States Has Just Been Declared Insane! This is from unreliable sources positioned as protesters outside the White House east lawn section. Details forthcoming as they occur.
Now back to our regular newscast...
In Chicago today, there was a new record set for murders on any given single day. The old record was...17. Today's total (so far) is at 18. (only time will tell if that will increase to a greater sizable amount)
Thanks for joining us tonight. My name is Mary Macabre.