"presenters" poems
NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION,
LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE
THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD:
SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE,
UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL;
SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO
IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE,
NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE
WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES;
A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD 'BOLLOCKS,'
AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD
BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND
THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN
PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Unhinged circus,
Requires perfect masquerade,
Before gymnasts leap,
Into Cinderella's world,
Spiralling into fame.
Before presenters go on stage,
And broadway groups dance,
Into undreamt wonders,
As actors rise and fall,
Her maple core remains.
As years elapse,
Girls become Women,
Perfect maple figure unscathed,
Always anticipating moments,
Of celebration, love and sorrow.
But most of all,
I still can't fathom,
How the dressing table speaks,
Invaluable untold stories.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
There was a long vanished England
Of well-spoken presenters
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service, and Children’s Favourites,
Of coppers and tanners, and ten bob notes;
And jolly shopkeepers, and window cleaners.
I remember my cherished Wolf Cub pack,
How I loved those Wednesday evenings,
The games, the pomp and seriousness of the camps,
The different coloured scarves, sweaters and hair
During the mass meetings,
The solemnity of my enrolment,
Being helped up a tree by an older boy,
Baloo, or Kim, or someone,
To win my Athletics badge,
Winning my first star, my two year badge,
And my swimming badge
With its frog symbol, the kindness of the older boys.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
Can't cuss on the bus we must trust in Jesus to get us through without a single bruise used as a tool to fuel the fire Lord take us higher cause we are on fire never to retire or expire Your our preservative our lives we give on this trip we flip the script to show that we're hip to the games but don't feel any shame in this game of fame because we have no names we are just representers presenters of the good news a few dudes on a mission of submission to listen to what to speak and hope that nothing else leaks out of the spout of our mouth give us now our daily bread fill our heads hearts and souls I know You'll show Your face in this place that we're going thisflowing You're bestowing is growing on me and one day I'll see a little tiny pieace of a feast called glory! ^-^
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Why don't the weather presenters just say it like it is?
Why do they say 'Oh a high of 34 it's going to be a glorious day'...
When really that is a completely ridiculous temperature,
Its boiling and I know my head is going to melt just getting to the bus stop. I'm going to have a face like a baboons **** by the end of the day... but no... it's glorious. **** off is it...
Watch out for those icy roads...
No... but thank you for your concern. I however will be doing my best Bambi on **** roller skates impersonation because the roads are gritted but the pavements are like ******* sheet ice. I might need a replacement hip joint by the end of the day.
There could be an accumulation of snow overnight...
Well if an accumulation means three flakes and the town grinding to a halt, I'm moving to a ******* Alaska. At least I could get to work on time. Even commuting from there would be quicker than my bus driver detouring around three ******* flakes, one of which looks suspiciously like a bit of lint.
Why don't they tell the truth?
Why don't they say okay, it's going to be ******* freezing, I wouldn't bother. Phone in work and say your dog is sick, make something up because you are going to regret every **** step you take to work.
Or... it's going to be a snow day,
The schools will be shut so your shop is going to be rammed with rosy cheeked, sniveling kids with their chubby fingers in your pick and mix all day. Kids in the street are going to be complete **** holes and pelt you with snow because their aim is crap and they should be inside in the warm on their computers...
or Mate... its pissin' it down...
You might want to build an ark at some point. Your dog won't even go out in it, it will sit whining it's miserable snout off at the door all ******* day because it wont use a litter tray...
But your cat will be happy... smug little ****
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC
Books of novel are tetra-packs.
Fruits of society are manually picked up
crushed, mixed in neat proportions
and sealed to make fresh fruit juice.
Goodwill achieved by the presenters
put wings to the packages.
It's a different world in the dark interior
There are dreams of sun, rain, summer,
and the colors and tunes of spring
present a mirror world
full of butterflies and pests.
Each pack waits to tell its inside story
to an expectant connoisseur
and waits eagerly for a sigh of relief.
As the wind rolls on
cloned and genetically modified fruits appear
new entrepreneurs present newer packs
modern people enjoy never-before taste.
Every now and then new vistas open up,
the two worlds spin side by side.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 9:27 AM UTC
It is as if, as a intended intention, it was constantly going on, and even the stupidity of the free-thought minds is to be held; Now, beyond the world of tabloid media, the so-called. In the world of cheap, diluent-smelling influencers, which have been abandoned to pop culture, there could be a growing ruthless, almost intentionally brutal-hard competition for the sacred favor of followers and lyrics. Because now it seems as if all and everyone is a cheap, bribing, pathetic Jibs' sensation not only from the wide Cyber network of mass-information digital channels and networks, but also from the increasing decade its rather heating and determines it.
Now they can't dare to listen alone to the reasons of the already completely left -handed, which can be made, to be logically built -in clichés, because they are better off telling others what, where, where, and especially how to do it.
Personality as a temporary or if you like; an intermediate individual, no longer satisfied with the unrepeatable magic and perhaps specialty of the individuality of the individual. Cheap, dilute, reduced simplified sentences are grinding many cheap celebrity presenters on TV just like on the digital wavelength of commercially secured radios, and of course no one guesses, and knows that if pseudo-hazug news and rumors replace a poem, Perhaps the average brainwashed, hazelnuts of wild juggle men would be able to re-discover the small micro-capabilities of their thinking using autodidact methods.
It is as if this current vulnerable life seemed to be a pathetic, complex tangle, from which a safe panic-free release from a safe manifestation on asylum routes, as well as a fled mailer!
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 9:50 PM UTC
all dressed up TV news presenters, suited and booted
appear on the flat screen non stop
I appreciate their taking time to get themselves together
to spew out the rolling news
and I sit around naked from morn till night a rolling nakedness
safe within my space
away from prying eyes so quick to make judgement
on this small isle gossip is gleaned in the ears and what they don't know, they make up, the rolling fiction interlaced with non-fiction with waggling busy as Bees tongues.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC