"newsroom" poems - Hello Poetry

To be sung to ***** Laundry" by Don Henley We have a little story That we could tell We have a little poison In our inkwell Let's be a gossip Let's be a shill Give us the 'ol Pulp Bitchin'. We peep through the windows And listen at doors We buy the "Enquirer" And "The Star" at the stores "She ***** herself" And "She's a ***** ***** little minds galore! Give us the 'ol Pulp Bitchin'. Have a li'l "lady" Who's fast and free I've heard she's been a prossy That she's easy Nothin' nice to say? Come sit by me! Give us the ol Pulp Bitchin' Could have been emeritus Could have been a great But I pound out nothing But dreck and spate So what if it's full of hate? You don't really want to know If it's real or true. It's not what they SAY it's what you they DOO DOO DON'T YOU WORRY WHAT I THINK OF YOU (THAT YOU ALL POO POO 💩) Give us the old Pulp Bitchin' Kick 'em while they're up Kick 'em while they're down (1, 000, 000, 000 000, 000 X) 🎯 Write of Passage ***** Laundry" I make my living off the evening news Just give me something Something I can use People love it when you lose They love ***** laundry Well, I coulda been an actor But I wound up here I just have to look good I don't have to be clear Come and whisper in my ear Give us ***** laundry Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em all around We got the bubble headed Bleached blonde Comes on at five She can tell you 'bout the plane crash With a gleam in her eye It's interesting when people die Give us ***** laundry Can we film the operation Is the head dead yet You know the boys in the newsroom Got a running bet Get the widow on the set We need ***** laundry You don't really need to find out What's going on You don't really want to know Just how far it's gone Just leave well enough alone Eat your ***** laundry Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're up Kick 'em when they're down Kick 'em when they're stiff Kick 'em all around (Kick 'em when they're up) (Kick 'em when they're down) (Kick 'em when they're up) (Kick 'em when they're down) (Kick 'em when they're up) (Kick 'em when they're down) (Kick 'em when they're stiff) (Kick 'em all around) ***** little secrets ***** little lies We got our ***** little fingers In everybody's pie We love to cut you down to size We love ***** laundry We can do the innuendo We can dance and sing When it's said and done We haven't told you a thing We all know that crap is king Give us ***** laundry Don Henley If the shoe fits... SoulSurvivor aka Write of Passage 2022

0

Nov 22, 2023

Nov 22, 2023 at 10:24 AM UTC

Theres a genocide going on in 4K And the world's acting like its okay And I wonder who's more pathetic The antagonist or the apatethic That we shouldnt **** children is not really that complex Unless you are from the military industrial complex And you do not need to know the history of a millennium To know its wrong to displace millions And carpet bomb civilians And humanity is not political Unless you are a politician And peace is not controversial Unless you are hell bound on controverting Well,you are hell bound anyway The placards and slogans are up again Its better than nothing,even if it doesnt bring any change You wanna feel like you've done something Even if its meaningless in greater scheme of things In a world where everything little thing is trauma The genocide becomes a newsroom drama As they make you believe they are others And convince you its fine to **** your brothers And you get convinced in a day However much we can scream Continues the killing spree From the river to the sea Only hatred seems to be free So theres a genocide going on in 4K And it will never be okay However much they try to erase the voices And cover it up in chemical warplane noises And if you wondering which side you should be on If its the one killing children,its probably wrong Dumbf*ck

0

Mar 21, 2024

Mar 21, 2024 at 4:41 AM UTC

daivik

Genocide in 4K

Theres a genocide going on in 4K And the world's acting like its okay And I wonder who's more pathetic The antagonist or the apatethic That we shouldnt **** children is not really that complex Unless you are from the military industrial complex And you do not need to know the history of a millennium To know its wrong to displace millions And carpet bomb civilians And humanity is not political Unless you are a politician And peace is not controversial Unless you are hell bound on controverting Well,you are hell bound anyway The placards and slogans are up again Its better than nothing,even if it doesnt bring any change You wanna feel like you've done something Even if its meaningless in greater scheme of things In a world where everything little thing is trauma The genocide becomes a newsroom drama As they make you believe they are others And convince you its fine to **** your brothers And you get convinced in a day However much we can scream Continues the killing spree From the river to the sea Only hatred seems to be free So theres a genocide going on in 4K And it will never be okay However much they try to erase the voices And cover it up in chemical warplane noises And if you wondering which side you should be on If its the one killing children,its probably wrong Dumbf*ck

34

The skies the limit A smile being your style You and Mr. Grant while Oh how Ted Baxter who would often act wild Yet Minnesota of the Newsroom at a loss Those cold winds that always had a force You would often toss your hand in the air It was your trademark being the Mary Tyler Moore Show to preserver You always knew how to go from here to there I’m Mary Tyler Moore and have no fear It was sheer comedy when you were always on TV near Now when you were starring with **** Van **** on the **** Van **** Show There was always laughter, surprises and situations For instance, Mr. **** falling over a chair But it the mission was clear in always beware Well Ms. Moore you have accomplished acting your whole life The American people being your fans is our inspiration as a strive Ms. Moore your acting ability and smile like the aroma of spice But it was your personality that was ever so nice But years rolled on and illness came Your final hour from Heaven “Come Home” Your time had come Ms. Moore, you through your hat in the air for the last time You made it after all This is not goodbye, but until we meet again.

0

Jan 26, 2017

Jan 26, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC

preservationman

YOU MADE IT AFTER ALL(TRIBUTE TO MARY TYLER MOORE)

The skies the limit A smile being your style You and Mr. Grant while Oh how Ted Baxter who would often act wild Yet Minnesota of the Newsroom at a loss Those cold winds that always had a force You would often toss your hand in the air It was your trademark being the Mary Tyler Moore Show to preserver You always knew how to go from here to there I’m Mary Tyler Moore and have no fear It was sheer comedy when you were always on TV near Now when you were starring with **** Van **** on the **** Van **** Show There was always laughter, surprises and situations For instance, Mr. **** falling over a chair But it the mission was clear in always beware Well Ms. Moore you have accomplished acting your whole life The American people being your fans is our inspiration as a strive Ms. Moore your acting ability and smile like the aroma of spice But it was your personality that was ever so nice But years rolled on and illness came Your final hour from Heaven “Come Home” Your time had come Ms. Moore, you through your hat in the air for the last time You made it after all This is not goodbye, but until we meet again.

25

We knew T-Rex from its tiny claws Its hungry mouth, its toothy jaws. But how can we assess T-Rump When all our data’s from a stump And weekly polls that flinch and jump? The answer’s lying deep below Perhaps with Edgar Allen Poe Whose poetry is dark and slow. A creature walking o’er the earth In privilege stretching back to birth That claims ascendance overall And loves to brag and boast and brawl And sometimes recoils, sometimes howls (One sometimes wonders at its bowels— When watching active ****** scowls.) T-Rump is marching to consume What’s going on in the newsroom And feeds on minor predators, (Ignoring its own creditors). It likes to crouch and dance and pose While speaking in a broken prose And often wrinkling up its nose At anything that might oppose Or even worse, that might expose, Its streak of show-and-tell sideshows. Alas when sizing up T-Rump One hits a show-and-tell speed bump That’s not about its topmost clump Or its eternal ****** frump. We know, somehow, we’re each a chump In thinking that there was an ump Who’d put things on the ump and ump And so we lazed, and scrimped and scrumped Instead of what we’d need to do— To find what’s cleanly new and true, And redirect our Waterloo Away from its own cancerous lump And toward a far less spurious zoo. In other words, to dump T-Rump!

0

Sep 29, 2016

Sep 29, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC

dennis-nils-drogseth

Tyrannosaurus-Rump

We knew T-Rex from its tiny claws Its hungry mouth, its toothy jaws. But how can we assess T-Rump When all our data’s from a stump And weekly polls that flinch and jump? The answer’s lying deep below Perhaps with Edgar Allen Poe Whose poetry is dark and slow. A creature walking o’er the earth In privilege stretching back to birth That claims ascendance overall And loves to brag and boast and brawl And sometimes recoils, sometimes howls (One sometimes wonders at its bowels— When watching active ****** scowls.) T-Rump is marching to consume What’s going on in the newsroom And feeds on minor predators, (Ignoring its own creditors). It likes to crouch and dance and pose While speaking in a broken prose And often wrinkling up its nose At anything that might oppose Or even worse, that might expose, Its streak of show-and-tell sideshows. Alas when sizing up T-Rump One hits a show-and-tell speed bump That’s not about its topmost clump Or its eternal ****** frump. We know, somehow, we’re each a chump In thinking that there was an ump Who’d put things on the ump and ump And so we lazed, and scrimped and scrumped Instead of what we’d need to do— To find what’s cleanly new and true, And redirect our Waterloo Away from its own cancerous lump And toward a far less spurious zoo. In other words, to dump T-Rump!

39

Durch Geld , wird die Demokratie ihre eigenen Zerstöre The decline of the west plays back and forth in newsroom warzones across the America that Samuel Adams died believing in, the promise of a gold lined path to a bygone peace the immigrants can now only dream of, while the sons of the sons of the sons of the sons of their sons close their doors and arm their security systems, there are racks of guns lining every wall and everybody looks ready to go to war, so I might as well join them, the possibility of compromise lies with dozens of boys and girls in dozens of pools of blood across dozens of states and the people cry out enough is enough, and if the decaying capital will not hear us then they must be made to listen, a united front of iron forged from the fires that burned down Missouri, that burned down Los Angeles, that burned down D.C after the soothing voice of the raging masses was shot dead, if my rhetoric is too strong it is because not only are things not moving fast enough they are moving backwards, When men, leatherbound and arrogant would consider every moment in the spotlight a coronation, the options become clear: These kings must die so that the country may live

0

Dec 6, 2015

Dec 6, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC

tyler-king

The decline of the west

Durch Geld , wird die Demokratie ihre eigenen Zerstöre The decline of the west plays back and forth in newsroom warzones across the America that Samuel Adams died believing in, the promise of a gold lined path to a bygone peace the immigrants can now only dream of, while the sons of the sons of the sons of the sons of their sons close their doors and arm their security systems, there are racks of guns lining every wall and everybody looks ready to go to war, so I might as well join them, the possibility of compromise lies with dozens of boys and girls in dozens of pools of blood across dozens of states and the people cry out enough is enough, and if the decaying capital will not hear us then they must be made to listen, a united front of iron forged from the fires that burned down Missouri, that burned down Los Angeles, that burned down D.C after the soothing voice of the raging masses was shot dead, if my rhetoric is too strong it is because not only are things not moving fast enough they are moving backwards, When men, leatherbound and arrogant would consider every moment in the spotlight a coronation, the options become clear: These kings must die so that the country may live

4

*Elder gentlemen crave the past like nicotine infused black cherry smoke , riding puffs of chilly October morning park scenes in my hometown etched in gray day period couples struggling through leaf covered sidewalks , followed by beggar birds , those canopy filled blackbirds commanding the audible forefront of greeting , courtesy and old folk innocent chatter Smiles and laughter as automobiles circle the city center of Willow , Water Oak , granite monumental reminders , window shoppers , price hawkers huddled in a little brick town no one ever hears about , lost on the tip of the newsroom tongue , in conversation , this 'black and white village' where townsfolk forever scurry about*

0

Oct 5, 2016

Oct 5, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Monticello .....

*Elder gentlemen crave the past like nicotine infused black cherry smoke , riding puffs of chilly October morning park scenes in my hometown etched in gray day period couples struggling through leaf covered sidewalks , followed by beggar birds , those canopy filled blackbirds commanding the audible forefront of greeting , courtesy and old folk innocent chatter Smiles and laughter as automobiles circle the city center of Willow , Water Oak , granite monumental reminders , window shoppers , price hawkers huddled in a little brick town no one ever hears about , lost on the tip of the newsroom tongue , in conversation , this 'black and white village' where townsfolk forever scurry about*

14