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All literature is gossip.

quote by Truman Capote
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Devils Radio

Devils radio
Gossip, gossip
Gossip, gossip
I heard it in the night
Words that thoughtless speak
Like vultures swooping down below
On the devils radio
I hear it through the day
Airwaves gettin filled
With gossip broadcast to and fro
On the devils radio
Oh yeah, gossip
Gossip, oh yeah
Hes in the clubs and bars
And never turns it down
Talking about what he dont know
On the devils radio
Hes in your tv set
Wont give it a rest
That soul betraying so and so
The devils radio
Gossip, gossip
Gossip, gossip
(oh yeah) gossip, (gossip) oh yeah
(gossip) oh yeah, (oh yeah) gossip
Its white and black like industrial waste
Pollution of the highest degree
You wonder why I dont hang out much
I wonder how you cant see
Hes in the films and songs
And on all your magazines
Its everywhere that you may go
The devils radio
Oh yeah, gossip
Gossip, oh yeah
Runs thick and fast, no one really sees
Quite what bad it can do
As it shapes you into something cold
Like an eskimo igloo
Its all across our lives
Like a weed its spread
till nothing else has space to grow
The devils radio
Can creep up in the dark
Make us hide behind shades
And buzzing like a dynamo
The devils radio
(gossip) oh yeah, (gossip) oh yeah
(gossip) gossip, (gossip) gossip
Oh yeah, gossip I heard you on satans wireless

[...] Read more

song performed by George Harrison
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Innuendo, Gossip 'And' LIES!

Isn't it easy for you to sit and criticize?
With nothing you do to be held accountable to.
With no responsibility...
But to approve or disapprove as you choose.
And say what you like and dislike about others.
And who you have chosen to agonize and despise.
With innuendo, gossip and lies!

'Oh my...
Innuendo, gossip 'and' lies? '

That's right...
Innuendo, gossip 'and' LIES!

'Ewww...
That's awful! '

Isn't it easy for you to sit and criticize?
Without one effort made to create and strategize.
And those all day and night sleepless work binges...
Could not approach or touch,
Your lazy appetite for life!

Since what you do best,
Is make attempts to initiate unrest!
With innuendo, gossip and lies!

'Oh my...
Innuendo, gossip 'and' lies? '

That's right...
Innuendo, gossip 'and' LIES!

'Oh my...'

Isn't it easy for you to sit and criticize?
With nothing you do to be held accountable to.
With no responsibility...
But to approve or disapprove as you choose.
And say what you like and dislike about others.
And who you have chosen to agonize and despise.

'Don't say it!
Not with...'

Yep,
That's right...
Innuendo, gossip 'and' LIES!

'Oh my...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Know That They Don't Know

They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.

They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.

And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!

Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!

They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!

They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!

They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh The Poems

OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS

Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –

What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?

I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-

Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-

Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-

Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Kitchen Bitches

Round table they all meet, set up in the kitchen.
They had a book highlighted with their so call friends name,
They all did their homework report and came to tell about the information that they've gather.
Pour their tea ready to talk about anecdotes,
the conversation is backbiting about their friends life

The kitchens bitches spread intimating rumors about they friends who live way better than the kitchen bitches

They begin with 'word of the mouth is! '
They love to gossip, it is like a rush they need every week,
this meeting make them feel good about themselves and also put them in the right mood

'Gossip conference is over, so next week lets meet at a new location! '
Their small minds discuss people, but they're blind to see that they own life is more mess up than anyone on the block.

Kitchen bitches only dislike gossip is when you gossip about them.
Ever member of the kitchen bitches even talk about the misssing member when they move to a different kitchen.

poem by Brittany Wongus
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A Gimmick

gimmick literature this just it's
just is gimmick a this
is not literature it's just
not just a literature this
gimmick just a it's not
this is not literature it's

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Poetry The Beacon!

Beacon of literature is ever poetry only!
Greatness of literature lies in quality ideas;
Richness of language depends on poetry;
Worthiness of matter in poetry only is best!

Writing needs creative mind whatever thing is!
Novels, Short stories, Prose and Poetry are they
That enhance the richness of literature ever;
That too writing poetry makes one great sure!

Having chosen the form of poetry to write itself
Is not an easy matter as it needs skill and time
To write what one feels, thinks and conceives
In heart, mind and soul, otherwise no good at all!

Other forms of literature needs concentrated work
But poetry needs natural ability to express free all!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Literature and Quantum Physics

Mind spoke:

I have been the Driver of all history
for animal and man,
I've fueled Progress,
built cities,
discovered science
literature, poetry
all of this due to me:
Mind.

Imagination Spoke:

You Mind
are not of consequence
without me
Imagination.

Whatever spark might have
fired your brain
came from my fashioning
events in you Mind
to creativity,
to art
for you are merely physical seat
the vehicle,
But I Imagination
am the driver.

Body Spoke:

The two of you have no independent existence,
no living space
without me Body.

I am that temple
which houses you.

I am the physical portal
which interacts with the
world.
Whatever you can see or think Mind
or you Imagination, can imagine
is filtered thorough me Body
and flesh though I am
few doubt my ultimate power.

For surely as you both have your place
but both of you are mental most
and cannot walk or run,

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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We are interested in the people

Gossip is not all false.
It contains some truth.
To gossip and to hear gossip,
Each one of us is interested,
A sign that we are interested
In the people around us.
19.06.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Reality Shows Tells Us Gossip

In this planetary dream
we have gossip which can get extreme.
It puts us in a more living hell
for people on reality shows have to tell
tell something bad to bring up the ratings
do something drama filled to be degrading.
But this puts us all into more of a living hell
we don't know this but we learned it well.
We learned when we where young
when our lives had just begun.
We learned to gossip to make us feel better
by listening to adults go on about people to the letter
Gossip gets old really fast—
ruined relationships that never last.
Why not more funny shows—
the kind where there are actors that nobody knows.
There is of course these shows that make you think
not hearing about someone else's stink.

Written By Christina Sunrise on March 8,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Old Town Types No.2 - Red Matt

He gleaned all the gossip and he gathered all the news,
Mad Matt, the carrier, delivering the grub;
He knew the trooper's tattle and he knew the parson's views,
The gossip at the station-yard, the gossip at the pub.
That high-pitched voice of his, the loudest voice in town,
That shrewd blue eye of his, with humor all a-gleam -
Old Red Matt, with his cabbage-tree hat,
His trolley, and his two-horse team.

Driving down the main street a-clatter with his load,
The great red beard of him blowing out behind:
'Hear about that accident's mornin' up the road?
Hear about the gold rush at Joe Scott's find?
Warmish sort o' day we got; thirsty weather this.
Got a bag o' spuds for you - Dang! Fergot the cream!'
Says old Red Matt with his cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Mad Matt, the carrier, standing at the bar:
'Well here's a go, boys. Got to get along
Seven pints I've had today and still to travel far.
Drink fast and drive fast, yeh can't go wrong.
Fill 'em up again, boss, ans hove it on the slate.
Half-a-ton aboard today - just tipped the beam,'
Says old red Matt with the cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Sudden were his wild ways, sudden, too, his end.
Jumped to grab a bolting team with kiddie sin the trap;
And they picked up Mad Matt, everybody's friend,
Silent now and broken; and they said, 'Brave chap.
Wild an' all,' they said of him, 'always was a white man.'
And they laid him, with a blessing, where his old mates dream,
Saying, 'So long, Matt, with your cabbage-tree hat,
And your trolley, and your two-horse team.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Ethel And The Streaker (Fun Poem 82)

Based on characters created by Ray Stevens in his song The Streak.

Now Ethel was doing her shopping
with here friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
As they pushed their trolleys to the car
when someone shouted,
“Don’t look ladies! ”
It was too late;
Ethel looked and was moved on the spot.
Her mouth dropped open with absolute shock.
There darting across the car park
in all his naked glory with a saggy physic
was a streaker.
Maizey-Be saw him too
and fainted to the ground.
As fast as he came
the streaker was now gone.

Ethel was in the library
with her friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
They just picked a book from the shelf
when someone shouted,
“Don’t look Ladies.”
It was too late, Ethel already had an eye full
and was moved on the spot and dropped her book
the streaker came running
through the isle between the bookcases
in all his saggy glory.
Maizey-Be saw him too
and fainted on the floor
as the streaker rushed by
and disappeared out the door.

Ethel was at a baseball game
with her friend Maizey-Be,
the local gossip of the community.
As they watched, the batter hit a ball into out field
someone shouted,
“Ladies don’t look! ”
Too late, Ethel looked with her binoculars
and was moved on the spot.
The streaker was her beloved
husband Fred Trotalot.
He was showing everyone
more than she had seen in years
as he streaked around the diamond
to the home base.

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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In The Land Of Gossip

I cannot be with you people because,
You are living in the land of Gossip.

A man takes a story and twists it to another,
A woman takes a story and twists it around!

Hatred and jealousy then becomes the order of the day,
And, that is what i see among you people.

For, others are also ready to insult and fight each other! !
So, i cannot be with you people in this land of Gossip.

You know the laws and, they are always around you people!
But, gossip had been the order of the day;
Destroying brothers and sisters in the faith.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ruth

All is well—in a prison—to-night, and the warders are crying ‘All’s Well!’
I must speak, for the sake of my heart—if it’s but to the walls of my cell.
For what does it matter to me if to-morrow I go where I will?
I’m as free as I ever shall be—there is naught in my life to fulfil.
I am free! I am haunted no more by the question that tortured my brain:
‘Are you sane of a people gone mad? or mad in a world that is sane?’
I have had time to rest—and to pray—and my reason no longer is vext
By the spirit that hangs you one day, and would hail you as martyr the next.

Are the fields of my fancy less fair through a window that’s narrowed and barred?
Are the morning stars dimmed by the glare of the gas-light that flares in the yard?
No! And what does it matter to me if to-morrow I sail from the land?
I am free, as I never was free! I exult in my loneliness grand!

Be a saint and a saviour of men—be a Christ, and they’ll slander and rail!
Only Crime’s understood in the world, and a man is respected—in gaol.
But I find in my raving a balm—in the worst that has come to the worst—
Let me think of it all—I grow calm—let me think it all out from the first.

Beyond the horizon of Self do the walls of my prison retreat,
And I stand in a gap of the hills with the scene of my life at my feet;
The range to the west, and the Peak, and the marsh where the dark ridges end,
And the spurs running down to the Creek, and the she-oaks that sigh in the bend.
The hints of the river below; and, away on the azure and green,
The old goldfield of Specimen Flat, and the township—a blotch on the scene;
The store, the hotels, and the bank—and the gaol and the people who come
With the weatherboard box and the tank—the Australian idea of home:

The scribe—spirit-broken; the ‘wreck,’ in his might-have-been or shame;
The townsman ‘respected’ or worthy; the workman respectful and tame;
The boss of the pub with his fine sense of honour, grown moral and stout,
Like the spielers who came with the ‘line,’ on the cheques that were made farther out.

The clever young churchman, despised by the swaggering, popular man;
The doctor with hands clasped behind, and bowed head, as if under a ban;
The one man with the brains—with the power to lead, unsuspected and dumb,
Whom Fate sets apart for the Hour—the man for the hour that might come.

The old local liar whose story was ancient when Egypt was young,
And the gossip who hangs on the fence and poisons God’s world with her tongue;
The haggard bush mother who’d nag, though a husband or child be divine,
And who takes a fierce joy in a rag of the clothes on the newcomer’s line.

And a lad with a cloud on his heart who was lost in a world vague and dim—
No one dreamed as he drifted apart that ’twas genius the matter with him;
Who was doomed, in that ignorant hole, to its spiritless level to sink,
Till the iron had entered his soul, and his brain found a refuge in drink.

Perhaps I was bitter because of the tongues of disgrace in the town—
Of a boy-nature misunderstood and its nobler ambitions sneered

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Defending This Diminishes Quick

Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip is a crime.

Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip...
Is a crime.

And people who do nothing but sit on stoops...
With a hoop all day that's hollered,
Is crude and rude.
And children overseeing this,
Think these attitudes done...
Are cool to copy too.

Romancing what they do is sick.
And defending this diminishes quick.
Especially in the doing of it...
Is considered and respected,
As nobody's business!

Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip...
Is a crime.

And children overseeing this,
Think these attitudes done...
Are cool to copy too.
And showing them the opposite...
Will get the rolling of eyes,
And frowning lips.

Romancing what they do is sick.
And defending this diminishes quick.
Especially in the doing of it...
Is considered and respected,
As nobody's business!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Closet

There is more in the closet,
Coming out of them these days.
More besides clothes, coats...
And those sneaking to get quick booty,
To hide to 'get off'
Like teenagers in a rage.

Not too many today,
Care who does what to whom.
Except those living in smaller towns...
Where there is nothing else to do,
Other than to test the beds
In their neighbors' bedrooms!

And having sex with pets!
And other kinds of sexual digressions.

'But you didn't hear that from me.
Just in case you're in the mood for steamy gossip! '

There is more in the closet,
Coming out of them these days.
People catching all kinds of sexual diseases.
HIV that can develop into AIDS.

And some folks wish to keep their sneaking discreet!
As they sweat up wetness on strange sheets...
During nighttime sleepovers.
And these same booty buddies,
Who get it on...
During the day,
Do not speak!

'Wassup with that?
But you didn't hear that from me.
Just in case you're in the mood,
For some steamy gossip! '

But folks 'down low' who are in the closet...
Don't have to be that way.
Since it seems everyone wants to be lesbian.
Even those who say they 'aren't' gay!
They just want it strickly on the bottom!
Caring less who tops as a preference.

'And...
You didn't hear that from me.
In case you're in the mood...
For some steamy gossip!
Just keep my name out of it,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quick To Leap

Lost!
Those people spreading evil,
Are lost!
And people feeding deceit,
Are lost!
And those quick to leap,
On gossip heard in streets...
Are lost!

Those people spreading evil,
Are lost!
And people feeding deceit,
Are lost!
And those quick to leap,
On gossip heard in streets...
There's no reason for a people to be eating anything late,
Like a baked cake.
There's no reason for a people to be eating anything late,
Like a baked cake.

People who can't think,
Are lost!
Those people fighting thinking,
Are lost!
And people walking 'round,
Looking dead on their feet.

Lost!
Those people spreading evil,
Are lost!
And people feeding deceit,
Are lost!
And those quick to leap,
On gossip heard in streets...
There's no reason for a people to be eating anything late,
Like a baked cake.
There's no reason for a people to be eating anything late,
Like a baked cake.
And...people walking 'round,
Looking dead on their feet.
Are lost!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Horse's Mouth

You've learned something,
That had not been part of gossip.
You feel betrayed by this...
And confront reliable sources.
They are dumbfounded too.
They believed they knew more,
Than what they actually knew.
And they too feel betrayed,
By this.

They've all learned something,
That had not been part of gossip.
And all felt betrayed by this...
With no one left to confront.
And dumbfounded too.
How could this business done,
Skip by whispers and listening ears?
Not so reliable are those sources.

And those who had spread their lies with glee,
Awakened one day with this understanding...
They have no idea who anyone really is!
They have no idea...
Since the horse's mouth,
Had ignored for years...
All of their ears!

Since that horse,
Of course...
Few knew anything about,
Whenever that horse appeared.

You've learned something,
That had not been part of gossip.
You feel betrayed by this...
And confront reliable sources.
They are dumbfounded too.
They believed they knew more,
Than what they actually knew.
And they too felt betrayed,
By this.

The horse conducted its business,
Distant from their flapping lips!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Short Term Gossip And The Gossip Hounds

Are people really so bored
with their own lives
especially in small rural towns
that other people's lives
must become common
run away gossip oh so much
more interesting than
theirs own off limits lives?

Nosy people are basically
exactly that just nosy
nosy people need
little provocation
little scent incentive
bait bloodhound
encouragement
to engage actively in
their favourite pass time.

But secretly
most people
are short term gossip
really they do not
care that much
most people
are rapid ready
to move on to
choice fresh gossip.

Thus it does not
leave many gossips
too worry about
the real blooded hound
an aristocratic sleuth
has a nose for trouble
prepared ever ready
to dig into choice dirt.

These specimens
of active inquiry
may be bothersome
when out about
on preferred case
when their nose
is out of joint
two strains truth
black and white
may be spiced
with imaginative
shades of grey.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Home even when i am away from home.

You can take me out of home
But you can't take out home in me
Distance? Keep me away from home
And one day home will keep you away from you
Mountain? You might close the space
And the space will never close the home vehemence in me

Liar? you might lie about my home
But you can't lie about meaning of home
Gossip monger? you might gossip about my home
But you can't gossip about home fever in me
Killer? Kill miles between
When you reach my flesh
Don't flash out the meaning of home in me

You can turn diagrams into diamonds
You can turn zeros into heroes
You can turn gold into old
You can turn sorrow into happiness
Still you can't change the meaning of home in me
You can travel all over the world
But no better place than home
You can reconcile irreconcilable
You can replace irreplaceable
You can destruct indestructible
You can fringe infringeable
But still no better place than you home

Regardless of what ever hardship of life
Regardless of what ever happiness
Regardless of state of mind
Regardless of what ever health status
Home is the best

Home is not where I lay my head
Its where my mind
Home is not where I hailed
It's where my spirit is
No better place than home
Home is home

poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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