"ratings" poems
Breaking News
A Robinson’s affair
It has been called party goers in beware
The Pelican Club know fore shoot outs
There are also fights to talk about
The Chef’s have been making guest sick
The Pelican Club is not a good pick
The ratings of the club had been very low
Business is certainly somewhat slow
As a poet journalist, I will tell you, “Let the Pelican Club go”
The Flamingo Club is the place to be
When you walk inside this is what you will see
Flamingo bird statues decked out in black and white with an offset of red bowties
Music that will make you serene in an automatic dance
The whole atmosphere will put you in a trance
Yet each dancing step you will seem to advance
All kinds of drinks for you to sup
However don’t forget to leave a tip
The Flamingo Club will make you feel special like the bird itself
The Flamingo Club is not like everybody else
This journalist being the poet in reporting in what you needed to know
It goes too show
Take in the Flamingo Club and just let senses go.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
Breaking News
A Robinson’s affair
It has been called party goers in beware
The Pelican Club know about shoot outs
There are also fights to talk about
The Chef’s have been making guest sick
The Pelican Club is not a good pick
The ratings of the club had been very low
Business is certainly somewhat slow
As a poet journalist, I will tell you, “Let the Pelican Club go”
The Flamingo Club is the place to be
When you walk inside this is what you will see
Flamingo bird statues decked out in black and white with an offset of red bowties
Music that will make you serene in an automatic dance
The whole atmosphere will put you in a trance
Yet each dancing step you will seem to advance
All kinds of drinks for you to sup
However don’t forget to leave a tip
The Flamingo Club will make you feel special like the bird itself
The Flamingo Club is not like everybody else
This journalist being the poet in reporting in what you needed to know
It goes too show
Take in the Flamingo Club and just let your senses go.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC
Crocodiles catnapping cuddling in cordial cliques,
Loafing, lollygagging, lurking low like lounging leeches,
Protective postures pouncing prey with piercing pinned precision,
Brilliant belligerent beasts basking boldly by swamp beaches,
Agressively angry attitudes among alluring adverse animals,
Deep daunting jaws of death damage drastically when dropping down,
Scales shaped like stabbing shards scrape while swimming strongly,
Opposing opposition order obedience of outrageous odious opponents,
Raged ravenous rapacious reptiles rank repulsive ratings and resourses...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
Silence was overwhelming
The tension was in the air
As if we were in a warzone
And no one wanted to be the first to give up
But for us, neither of us wanted to give up
Promises that we will never leave
The way you broke that silence
You shattered the glass everywhere
And what left your mouth were not words
But a warm breeze on a cold night
That melted the ice cubes
Residing in my heart
You taught me love is not a mistake
And how love feels when you kiss my hand
The way your voice sounds
When you tell me I’m a gift sent from above
And that we are meant to be
With words that belong to a poem
Now found their way to me
When you touched me,
I felt like a flower that blossomed
Emerged between the cracks
And everything that has fell apart in me
Somehow fell back together
As if your hands were made out of glue
And my body is a puzzle piece
Nobody told me that being in love with you
Is better than all novels
I want you to send me your voice in a postcard
So I can hang it next to the flower you once gave me
I want to breathe you, I want to feel you
Because distance is overrated, beauty is overrated
But love, love is above all ratings
Everyone can see you in my eyes,
Soaked in my skin
As clear as a tattoo
Everyone can see how I am a woman in love
A woman inked with love
Inked with you
I always want to tell you
How you smell like home
Like something that got lost along the way
And I’m mostly not good
With love poems
But with you, somehow.
I always have something to say.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
There once was an angry orange chump,
Who's ratings went down with a bump,
"I can beat you know who!
Heck, she's barely a two!
A mere woman and also a frump".
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
chaos.
death.
destruction.
the winds are rich
grains of economical gain blown on the wind
grains,
pieces of remainders of ruined lives;
ripe for reaping
reporters can smile their toothy grins
(pretending they don't love it- or the boost in their ratings)
politicians will preach and smile their equally fake smiles-
heads dancing with sugarplum visions
power hungry to bask in the warmth of the schism
-
politicians and reporters smile
looters loot
as figure heads kisses victims heads in style
oh what a lovely mess it is
so completely human
for a natural disaster
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
Society's light is one of oppression,
It hides in the shadows the manipulation,
Of likes, favourites and ratings,
And of course, the TV stations,
That tell us how to live.
But there will be a time,
When someone opens up their mind,
And notices the signs,
That dictate our every step.
Why not today?
Let's smash up the light bulbs,
And pull out the fittings,
Let's switch them off at the mains.
Let's wreck up the power stations,
And cut all the wires,
So only darkness remains.
It's time to listen to the crying stars,
It's time to listen to the silent cars,
It's time to listen to the city at night.
Because the city at night is shouting:
*Louder!
Louder!*
And the rain on the pavement's calling:
*Stronger!
Stronger!*
And tribal rhythms,
Inspire the buildings,
To get up and walk.
And driving heartbeats,
Persuade the dark streets,
To rise up and talk.
*"It's time to stand up for what we believe in!
It's time to show the world how we're feeling!
Because the light has blinded them from our point of view!
From our vantage point beneath your feet,
We've observed the city that never sleeps,
And realised it needs to change and let the darkness through!"*
And all the onlookers and sympathisers,
Respond with a chant,
That shakes society's foundations to bring it down.
*We don't want to fit in!
We don't want to give in!
To peer pressure within
Every waking day!
We all want to regress!
To when we all had less!
When money hadn't quite messed
Up every word we say!*
As every light goes out,
Each with a bolder shout,
Those in charge watch in awe as the revolution wins.
The entire city unites,
To bring about the night,
A dusk to match the dawn of humanity's sins.
But in the morning the sunrise,
Brings the reform to its demise.
And light obscures the strings that control our minds.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
-The best way to fight the fear of terrorism
is by turning off your TV screens.-
TV Terrorist.
Ladies hide your burkas!
the 1st amendment ain’t gonna protect ya
because for as little as an ignorant comment...
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Racist slurs, misinformation and greed
are 1/2 the price of what they used to be
ACT NOW so they can see!
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Don’t let the sirens of the fashion police disturb ya
we’ll wiretap your mosque from the city to suburbia
just grow that beard Osama style!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
After your Morning Joe just head over to CNN
they’re about to have some Baklawa at Fox & Friends
let’s keep feeding more hate speech to the talking heads.
-So YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Replace your Quran with the National Enquirer
so you can be as American as they are
Muhammed is not a match for Uncle Sam.
-Just wear that robe the way Jesus did
and YOU can be TV Terrorist too!
You see, turban rhymes with Taliban
therefore you’re all the same so pump our gas
brown skin clashes with the red, white & blue of our flag.
-Just make sure to look angry!
And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Sensationalism in the media is worth more than your beliefs
your good morals and spirituality is not for us to say
as long as that red dot across your forehead turns into an infrared.
-Look up Hassan! And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
From the cities of Iraq to the caves Afghanistan
ride your camel and dignity right through an EZ Pass
watch the drones drop and the ratings soar!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
Don't make my love in a factory on a cold assembly line
cutting all the corners of my heart just to rush it out on time
Don't sell my love in a fancy store dressed up in the front display
bought and sold and taken home, and in boredom packed away
Don't cast my love on a tv show as violence, fame, or food,
worth nothing more than the ratings brought that decide if it'll be renewed
Instead
Make it under the sun, let the wildlife play and see
let it touch the thoughts of calm the earth has ever dreamed
work through the night, so it can meet the dark
and learn that life is more than a single work of art
Feb 23, 2023
Feb 23, 2023 at 1:10 PM UTC
Maybe
it's just the first time doing *******
in order to expand my horizons; gain perspective
in great company and knowing full well
the moreish nature, as it has been purported,
of such a vice;
but, you know what they say:
"When in Rome..."
but lest ye forget;
"Do or do not, there is no try"
all the while
still maintaining moderation,
partially by habit and partially by force,
for there is said to be
no such thing as quality
in that regard
from whence I come.
and thus, as if by providence,
"When in Rome.."
So,
'twixt that personally groundbreaking experience
plus lots of Caffeine and Alcohol
in some haphazard alchemical combination
helped Reno to be a good-ass time
on Halloween
after playing a sweet-ass Rock Bar
with some sweet-ass bands.
And, to boot,
having not slept,
this morning was a rude non-awakening,
as well as an ominous first day of November,
what with the LAX shooting;
our roadie and I watched it as it unfolded
with repetitive loops of footage
and dodgy claims with more qualifiers
than actual substantial language;
but the Media is just doing it's job as usual;
play on sensationalism
especially for ratings;
okay if profitable.
Needless to ******* say,
it's been a crazy ******* day.
Needless to ******* say,
it may be a crazy ******* month.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
In the nightmare
we lose ourselves
not wishing to look in each other’s eyes
left versus right
only millionaires and billionaires can afford to fight
male versus female
transphobic
Bigoted
drop the hate to relate
life sold cheaply over internet wars
our nation
a nation of locked doors
and hate driven speaking drivel
People
I love you all but your minds locked into
Facebook culture wars
media ******
ratings soar
go viral be the virus
or inspire us
it’s your choice
war is afforded to the rich
if your poor dig your grave or ditch.
May 10, 2022
May 10, 2022 at 5:00 AM UTC
I've tried binge-watching you,
But the script is inconsistent.
Something about the characters
Is forced.
Each episode is too long,
Overly dramatic.
You think you’re a comedy;
You’re horror.
The production values are stellar,
But they’re wasted on you.
At 155 episodes and 7 seasons,
You should have ended after the first arc.
Your ratings are high.
So what?
Enjoy the attention.
I’m not coming back.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 9:15 AM UTC
I had a God; he was a
good God. Keeping me safe
with money, image, and time.
Blessing me, solid;
until my waist grew as thin as my wallet.
Buying all of your time.
I want to be on t.v.,
but not just any t.v.
I want the ratings to rise
with my celebrity skin,
my trending name,
commercialized sin.
I want to be sold separately
and told that I'm desperately
giving my body to a image heavy God,
sleeping on the skeleton of Malibu,
drinking dreams with a celebrity dog.
I want to be on t.v.
I want to be every thing
and more.
I had a God; he was a good God.
Played me his songs, wrapped
in his time. Kissing me goodbye,
tel ling me to sell shirts; telling me to
keep up with the trends.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
He spoke about Mike far from the Jackson but more like the color Brown.
As if whites love to see white since the lightest part of his body was in the air before his demise.
I think you should cut that dread off you know the one for Mike Brown since you weren't there. Far from a activist I honestly don't give a **** Far from an activist you're just adding fuel to extinguishing flames. You know how words spread like aids. People saw what they saw, so they say. You're no Martin you're no Malcom you're more like Powell.
This is when I knew I was a racist since all lives don't matter so you say.
If I was to die today in the hands of a white man. You wouldn't care since I'm light right.
Spanish boy on the mic.
Like if my daddy wasn't black as Wesley Snipes. But you know how the ***** daddy story goes.
Never home.
Left mama with a belly on her own.
They don't want to be the fathers but sure in hell they want to hit the daughters.
I prayed one day you'll walk through that door without the bottle. That's my only memory.
A dream.
So if I was to die today you wouldn't care or maybe for half
I mean my dad left me slung
Guess that changes the fact the left me hug like a pair Jays on the electrical line
Never to come by.
Never to teach how to ride a bike.
Never to teach me how to fight.
This is when I knew I was a racist.
Because I hate people, I hate crowded places.
I hate 34th street I hate 42nd.
I hate the city life
I should be somewhere in the country side.
But back to the matter tell me would you care if I die today in the hands of a white man.
What if I got killed by my enemy since minority violence is not a hate crime to society.
You see Tito got popped by Jahim
And Jahim lights went off in the middle of the night by Piddy
But these life's don't matter right
Is just minority violence
Is not the same media feed.
So for all you rappers, poets and activist whose saw Mikes hands up round of applause.
You're just like the media feeding in to what your eyes didn't see.
Is not about the truth anymore ******* but the ratings.
So to the special guest of honor poet I must tell you I'm a racist
I have 6 dead Spanish friends killed by all hands
Black, white and of time
Don't speak to me about justice
This wasn't Gardner or Bell
And if there's beef let me know I always keep a glock close.
My life won't matter to you like to yours won't matter to me.
But if that's what makes me a racist,
Mother ****** what are you?
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Teenie bopper
Tweenie bopper
Anorexia for the ratings
Skimpy internet clothing barely hiding
Obese baby fat like strangled whales
******** posing daddy complex
In your I-Phone mirror
Nobody cares
Raised in a million dollar ghetto
Love craved lunatics
Drunk on a thousand TV eyes
Pregnant from the womb since birth
Young ***** stretching for an audience
Burgeoning syphilisation nation
Cash in while you’re still fertile
The more crying
The bigger the ratings
The more babies
The bigger the paychecks
Your Dad should’ve pulled out
Your Mom should’ve had your fetus aborted
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 9:55 PM UTC
My good friend Katie and I have entered the running for the show of a lifetime.
I come to you wonderful people today to ask for your help.
We need to network via all the social media and amass as many "likes" and five-star ratings on the site as possible in order to open for Tyler Ward in Atlanta this winter.
Simply go to this web address: http://www.topblip.com/w/15262
Listen to our song, click on the fifth star and connect through Facebook to give us a
STAR RATING (the vote number should instantly increase by five), "LIKE" our video, and SHARE IT with your friends, please!
You can give another STAR RATING ONCE A DAY for the remainder of the contest!
(if everyone reading this goes and does it, we will win.)
Thank you so much for your support of this new creative jaunt of mine, I really
believe we can land the show with your help :)
(As some incentive, we're about to release a lovely CD, and I would be happy to send off the tracks to helpful souls like yours!)
Banjo Song
Did you find what you were looking for
Did you walk across the golden shore
My dear, I wish the world for you and much much more
I hope you find what you've been looking for
Do you cry when the day is done
Did the strength you needed never come
When the world is turned against you and you're on the run
I hope you find the strength to carry on
Have you forgotten me, my friend
I love you know, I loved you then
While you were out there in the world without me
Do the city lights excite your soul
Do you walk the quiet country road
No matter where you choose to share your boots, somehow I know
That's the place I wanna go
So meet me by that old porch swing
Where we'll sit and talk and laugh and sing
There ain't no place in the whole **** world I'd rather be
Than right here with you next to me
All my love I'll send
Cause our crooked paths are sure to meet again
Do you hear me when I call your name
Do you choose to walk the other way
You said time ain't gonna break us, but I guess times changed
When you were out there in the world without me
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
When you said goodbye
And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there's nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right
[Chorus]
There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus
For the marriage that's struggling just to hang on
They lost all of their faith in love
They've done all they can to make it right again
Still it's not enough
For the ones who can't break the addictions and chains
You try to give up but you come back again
Just remember that you're not alone in your shame
And your suffering
When your lonely
And it feels like the whole world is falling on you
You just reach out, you just cry out to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
To the widow who struggles with being alone
Wiping the tears from her eyes
For the children around the world without a home
Say a prayer tonight
Songwriters: MAC POWELL, MARK LEE, BRAD AVERY, TAI ANDERSON, DAVID CARR
© Universal Music Publishing Group
For non-commercial use only.
Data from: LyricFind
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THIRD DAY LYRICS - Cry Out To Jesus - A-Z Lyrics
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Lyrics to "Cry Out To Jesus" song by THIRD DAY: To everyone who's lost someone they love Long before it was their time You feel like the days you...
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Third Day - Cry Out To Jesus Lyrics | MetroLyrics
www.metrolyrics.com/cry-out-to-jesus-lyrics-third-day
"Cry Out To Jesus" was written by Mac Powell, Mark Lee, Brad Avery, Tai Anderson, David Carr.
I Want To Believe In You · Mr. Put It Down Lyrics · Four Five Seconds
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Third Day - Cry Out To Jesus lyrics | LyricsMode.com
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Cry Out To Jesus - Third Day (2005) To everyone who's lost someone they love Long before it was their time. You feel like the days you had were not enough
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THIRD DAY - CRY OUT TO JESUS LYRICS
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Third Day - Cry Out To Jesus Lyrics. To everyone who's lost someone they love Long before it was their time You feel like the days you had were not enough When you ...
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Cry Out To Jesus | Third Day
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Cry Out To Jesus. Creed. Songs List. Deny ... Lyrics Appears On These Albums * iTunes Session Listen: * [Live] Listen: * [Live in Mobile, AL] Listen: Listen: Single ...
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Cry Out To Jesus Lyrics - Third Day - LyricsFreak.com
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Lyrics to Cry Out To Jesus by Third Day: To everyone who's lost someone they love / Long before it was their time / You feel like the days
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CRY OUT TO JESUS Lyrics - THIRD DAY - eLyrics.net
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Third Day Cry Out To Jesus lyrics & video : To everyone who's lost someone they love Long before it was their time You feel like the days you had were not enough
THIS BELONGS TO THIRD DAY THE BAND
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
somewhere in hollywood along route 66
stood a cheap motel—
an asylum
for rockstars and their groupies,
artists and and poets and strangelings alike.
the morning only saw its residents,
drunken and drowsy,
and its black-tiled pools as dark as the night;
yet the nights were its prime
when the artists would gather
in the name of music, dance, recklessness.
the syringes would pierce their skin
and the alcohol like ocean waves
washed out the most of them,
and events too unspeakable were the norm.
the motel never attained 5-star ratings,
but it become the playground
for fleeting moments, wild nights,
brewing grounds for creation.
these nights were so loud and colorful,
but only remembered in hazy visions
and muffled sounds.
and so all those nights end here, today:
at the south of The Strip
where some modern, ordinary hotel now stands
once used to be the mess
that the likes of Jim Morrison
and Tom Waits called home.
its guests would have burnt it down,
but they would've wasted their money,
and who has the time anyway?
ladies and gentlemen, the tropicana motel—
a stop over where
wild minds and wild hearts would meet
and eventually go their way,
the place where these legends
of music and madness
came to play.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
Dear Pres. Obama,
Need a favor!
My business is falling apart.
Pretty sure, I'm going to get fired.
Can I borrow your
"I blame the Republicans for everything" speech?
Don't worry, I took a poll first.
Your approval ratings won't be hurt, cause they can't go any lower.
Yours truly,
A registered Democrat.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
For an hour on my drive to school at night,
When the music and headlights come on,
For that hour I'm a rock star.
If you stop and stare even better,
and I'd congratulate you because you are my audience.
I'm the drummer, singer, bassist, piano player and guitarist,
Hell I'm even the guy playing with lights back stage.
But as soon as I park and get out of my car,
I'm not a singer, I'm not a musician and
I'm certainly tone deaf.
Yeah I'm a resenting has been and ex-husband,
I don't eat, sleep or **** but writing is what keeps me sober these days.
Singing is what keeps my mind off the time,
and music what keeps me off the lines.
I used to give out ratings.
Now I keep the words to myself
and if my opinion is asked of me,
I just give them the simple half.
Let them figure out what's missing,
the way I found out what I was needing.
I may not make a mill next year,
or be able to pay the bills this month.
But I will be recognized for the things that are
put on billboards and on your bedroom walls.
I will be known for the message you wear everyday,
and for giving a face to the girl that sings in the dark on stage
and plays in your car all day.
But for just this hour I'm just a simple rock star.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
Reminiscent of popular television
all about ratings
not good writing.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
The film begins,
No wait...the filming begins,
When a child grabs ahold of a new toy,
A camera that doesn't lie,
But sometimes the images are blurred,
Out of focus,
Not always sharp and crisp,
The way a well-known and famous director would do,
There are rules understood,
Yet, unknown to him,
The child points the camera in all directions,
Perspectives never seen,
Unaware of the well-defined dynamics,
Of film-mastery,
Pointing aimlessly at times, to the sky, the ground or inconspicuous leaves lying on the freshly cut grass,
Actors left out of scene, dialogue goes missing, interpretations left to doubt,
The master, taking offense,
Buries the child director,
In condemnation,
Without offers of help,
'...if you can't do this child, find some other way, to express yourself and your ideas,
'cause you're giving us a bad name, to all who came before you, through struggle and through strife, please little child, put down your lens, so we can do it right'. Scolded and hurt and shattered, The child did surrend, and giving up, his lens of glass, to such a bitter end.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
It's a little known fact,
but true.
Jean-Luc Picard
grew up believing in Yoda.
Ever since he saw the little fella
in Star Wars, he's kept a picture of him
in his Star Trek wallet.
And if people knew that,
the ratings would
have been higher
for Star Trek,
'cause everybody loves Yoda.
Interestingly,
when the Apollo program
kicked off in the 60's,
Yoda hadn't even hit
the movie screens yet.
Too bad,
those early astronauts
would have loved
to have had a mascot!
Everybody knows,
space travelers
have to believe in someone.
It's just great universal karma!
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Look, there goes the Alley cat
Hear her strangled meowing
It don't beguile, for it is vile
Much like a sewer flowing
Ladies of the evening
Women of the street
Would blush and be embarrassed
To hear such trick or treat!
I'm upset, cuz I don't get
How that foul mouth can EAT!
But there's a strange compulsion
Which comes like a deluge
Her smiles gay, but don't defray
The *Battle of the BULGE*
Like felines she vocalizes,
Is her life like that?
If she's raw, and long of claw,
Is she like a cat?
How far will she let you?
How far will she GO?
Perhaps she battles demons
No-one else can KNOW
Myself, I can't condemn her
She had substance abuse
But she's not free, cuz she can't see
That SCINO'S not the TRUTH!
And she's a Public Figure!
Little girls look up to her!
She doesn't seem to know this
Did it not occur?
She cusses like longshoremen
Refuses to see
That she's made a grave mistake
In Scientology.
Does she believe they're helping?
This Science of the Mind?
Lord above! If she does
Then she's completely BLIND!
You're responsible, my lady.
Do you know that you teach?
The modern young, and they *become
The little slaves you PREACH!*
Miscavige isn't awesome
Scientology's *NOT "COOL".*
It's wicked beyond belief!
You're being *played the FOOL!*
Whatcha gonna do, girl?
You're an ingenue no more.
Do you doubt? *Gigs DO RUN OUT*
Will you play the *****
"Ah, NO!" You may be thinking
From my stance I shant tumult!
A cow, I'll graze, I'll be unfazed!
There's always the CULT!
But, dear, a storm's a'brewin
A tsunami of *greatsize*
They pamper you and praise you
But it's a *web of LIES!*
What will you do when flooded?
Will you weep and cower?
David's boat won't stay afloat!
It ain't no IVORY TOWER!
Baby, don't you get it?
Or are you just that THICK?
You will die, and then you'll FRY
A moth unto a WICK.
God has a sense of humor
Yep. He surely DOES!
AND YOU WON'T BE PROTECTED.
He don't help folks "just because...
My advice? For what it's worth?
I'll put in my two cents.
Leave that God forsaken CULT!
GET HUMBLE AND REPENT!!!
Sugar, whatcha stay there for?
Their ratings goin' SOUTH
Just believe and you'll receive...
Then, *clean up your MOUTH!*
Catherine Jarvis
aka SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/20/2017
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC