Follywood
One doesn't have to be a Christian or a rocket scientist
To figure out that Hollywood is a nasty cancerous cyst.
One that long ago released its poison throughout this world of ours,
Planting baleful seeds that grew and bound; and it still, unhindered ploughs.
Yes, people are daily feeding from just a smorgasbord of trash,
As Hollywood — rather, Follywood — shamefully pulls in more cash.
Yes, most of the images seen that Hollywood is churning out,
Just danger, danger, danger, in the minds of everyone should shout.
We inevitably become the very things that we behold,
Hence why those things seen on TV, should be monitored and controlled.
And much more so, where there are children, lest the TV wrongly mould
An innocent tender mind, and thereby, cause more wrong to unfold.
That which invades our precious mind, invades the fortress of the soul,
Weaving a destructive web that eventually gains control.
Yes, whatever gets hold of your mind, inevitably gets you,
Or the children you have bourne; something you could soon have cause to rue.
So many — courtesy of Follywood — are watching everyday
A sullied and duped stream of actors who more trash and harm portray.
And despite being guilty of all that verbal and visual ill,
These actors who seem to have no scruples, are placed on a pedestal.
Buckets full of violence, sickening murders, bashings and rapes,
Are just spewed out unrestrained, which the mind of those who view such, shapes.
Foul language that's plain shameful, and sexually explicit scenes
(Along with what’s gross and indecent), fills both small and larger screens.
Thus, it's no wonder crime is rampant, and society off track,
Given this potent multi-blended hour by hour aphrodisiac.
For whatever gets hold of the mind, invariably becomes you,
Hence why it’s so essential to control whatever is on view.
By Lance Landall
"Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss
and fifty cents for your soul."
Marilyn Monroe.
2. The Aging Singer
Yes, the aging singer, his beguiling voice no longer able — at least, not like it could before,
Yet, he still doing the circuit, running on past popularity, support, years of built up rapport.
Now no longer able to hold those notes as long, nor quite reach the highs and lows that are still required,
But so loath to leave the limelight, the adulation, even though age and health have cruelly conspired.
Yes, an aging lion, his breathing laboured, his movements less nimble, and his presence less commanding,
Yet, so reluctant to relinquish his throne, and steady ticket sales showing that he can still sing.
But not like before, and such not unnoticed too, thus time now his enemy rather than his friend,
And he a crooner, a singer of past romantic ballads, now well and truly bucking the trend.
Yes, the aging singer, so wanting to soar, but his wings somewhat clipped, the lights no longer as kind,
Thus, what once delighted, now less a reality, and each passing year falling further behind.
And perhaps he has lingered too long, his departure thus overdue, and his audience too kind,
But lost in their memories of days gone by, they’re loath to see him go, and seemingly do not mind.
Yes, the aging lion, singer, younger ones casting their shadow, but not quite a shadow like his one,
'Cause despite their popularity, he’s in a league of his own, and despite that red setting sun.
And in the hearts and minds of those who adore his voice, he will continue to remain on his throne,
'Cause even after his departure, and via their own home, they’ll still savour that lilting baritone.
By Lance Landall
3. Thinking Of Karen Carpenter
It’s always a tragedy when someone’s life's cut short, and seemingly even more so when they've a gift,
And here I’m referring to an exceptional voice, one that has the ability to move and lift.
And Karen’s voice certainly did move and lift, and now this Earth is all the less for her ability,
Which conveyed an unaffected, natural beauty so rarely seen today, given its quality.
So many can sing — indeed us all, one might say, but truly gifted singers are more a rarity,
'Cause though there are many good singers, few singers come under what one might well describe as heavenly.
And it’s the same with musicians, 'cause though many play exceedingly well, not so many have the touch,
And as a consequence, their playing ability fails to move us, or to affect us quite as much.
That ability to move and lift was where Karen’s voice excelled, and why her death seems a greater loss,
And the reason I say “seems” is, 'cause everyone’s life is just as precious as hers, as much a loss.
However, there're those who leave behind what's extra special — that is, in the way of their ability,
And as far as I’m concerned, Karen most certainly did that, affecting many emotionally.
Yes, it’s always tragic when someone’s life is cut short, and as in her case, we all the less for that voice,
And here, I’m talking solely of Karen's voice, not all of which she sang, 'cause songs are a personal choice.
But suffice to say, that Karen touched the lives of many, and hence why we should always treat others well,
Lest their life be cut short, and their gift to us be lost, 'cause what’s going on in their life, we oft can’t tell.
By Lance Landall
This poem was tweaked throughout 9 May 2023.
Karen
Carpenter died in 1983 at the age of 32, her death being due to an
eating disorder — anorexia nervosa. The song "Now" which was recorded
in April 1982, was the last song that Karen Carpenter recorded.
Check out the following video clip:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jtORBMpvL8
4. Lesser Mortals
Take an everyday boy or girl one passes in the street, and that one hardly gives a second thought to,
And build an image 'round their ability to sing or play, and soon they’re no longer like me and you.
But rather, someone seemingly out of reach, though desired and sought, and even cried over, foolishly,
Which has me scratching my head, for it’s simply an orchestrated illusion — yes, a game, quite frankly.
Many who become idols (singers or musicians) aren’t near as good as many who're still on the street;
That is, their talent, star quality is surpassed by many who haven’t made it, whom we daily greet.
Yet, no one bats an eyelid whilst passing these seemingly lesser mortals destined for obscurity,
Who, had they made it too, would’ve received the same generated attention, and more deservingly.
So many who make it aren’t that great at all, but oft beating those more talented come competitions,
Which aside from being unfair, and having me scratching my head again, leaves one nursing suspicions.
Seems certain judges (and members of the public), aren’t up to the job, hence those performances we see,
That come from those who’re not deserving of the limelight, or less deserving, whatever the case may be.
Then there’re those inflated egos, ways not worth emulating that come from many of the favoured few,
Who, given their sad influence, would’ve been better left on the street, unlike others still in the queue.
Others who on top of their greater talent, would’ve been better role models, less affected by fame,
And nor professing to be Christians whilst behaving in a way that’s contrary and just to their shame.
By Lance Landall
This poem was tweaked throughout on 9 May 2023.
5. Rock And Beauty — Opposites, To Me
Many years ago now, I had an interesting conversation with a female psychologist,
She being somewhere in her twenties, very attractive, and with a really lovely personality.
Her attractiveness and her charming personality really stood out, which was what flummoxed me,
'Cause she told me she was very much into serious rock music — loud, harsh, anti and angry.
Well, so I remember, 'cause as mentioned, it was many years ago, though it’s remained in my mind,
And still niggles me, 'cause such beauty, pleasantry and rock music, I just didn’t expect to find.
How could such be, I’ve asked myself, and more so when someone has such a pleasant personality,
Or perhaps I’m confusing such with character, such more important than one’s personality.
Music bias aside, and personal preference, rock music's hardly synonymous with beauty,
Nor with character beauty, that which is orderly, harmonious, uplifting, worthy or lovely.
'Cause how can it be given its mind numbing, body assaulting beat, those screeching, howling guitar sounds,
Which, rather than restorative, simply create an unhealthy state, plus its lack of moral grounds.
That is, those debasing, negative lyrics, along with all that rock’s associated with too,
All of which just doesn’t sit with a sound mind, and nor with psychologists who mental health pursue.
And nor with a very attractive young woman who had a really lovely personality,
Because that which is in one’s mind, and desired, should surely be just as beautiful and lovely.
By Lance Landall
This poem was upgraded 9 February 2020.
“Rock
has always been the devil’s music, you can’t convince me that it isn’t.
I honestly believe everything I’ve said—I believe rock and roll is
dangerous. … I feel that we’re only heralding something even darker
than ourselves”
David Bowie (1947-2016)
“When
buying a used car, punch the buttons on the radio. If all the stations
are rock and roll, there’s a good chance the transmission is shot.”
Larry Lujack
The following poem is based on the assumption that Dynamo is genuinely doing what he is doing and that it has not been staged somehow.
This poem also contains a degree of Christian content necessary for the purpose.
6. As For The Likes Of Dynamo
I know a man who once was involved in the occult, he now a Christian, one
Who before his conversion attended a Satanist church, which all should shun,
For many who get caught up with the likes, soon find that when they desire to leave,
Wicked spirit beings seek to prevent such, beings who love to ensnare, harm and deceive.
Yes, we’re talking about fallen angels here, both they and their master very real,
This having been verified by folk who encountered them, went through that ordeal.
And this being why we shouldn’t play with the occult, but take it seriously,
And why I’ve more to convey here, for believe me, it’s evil territory.
Okay, back to that man I mentioned…
Well, on him becoming a member, professing faith in Satan openly,
Accepting him as a great god, supreme ruler of Earth (all being heresy),
He was able to claim one of many gifts then bestowed; and these on any,
Who, according to this man, do likewise, their desire being granted instantly.
Yes, we’re talking about something supernatural, and enter Dynamo,
He a well known magician from whom the supernatural is seen to flow.
And hence his doing what humans aren’t capable of, other than as I’ve said,
He levitating, walking on water, reading minds, all why his fame has spread.
And I, convinced fallen angels are supporting, lifting and feeding him, and,
Responsible for some of those things that some might still consider sleight of hand.
And I, given the rapid, rampant, widespread increase in such activity,
Convinced humanity’s being set up, such fulfilling biblical prophecy.
And hence the proliferation of mediums and psychics, they being fed too,
In order to mislead mankind who no longer truth and right seeks to pursue.
Well, far less so these days, thus most more apt to follow the likes of Dynamo,
Who puts on a very convincing but devilishly orchestrated show.
And thereby folk kneeling before the altar of a devil, and blind as bats,
They wandering after New Age gurus and mystics, those modern Cheshire cats,
Those who’re often endowed with certain powers like Dynamo, or are aided,
And whose borrowed signs and wonders far too many souls and homes has invaded.
The truth is, that fallen spirit beings know all about us, and thus pass such on,
Enter the likes of those mind readers and crystal ball gazers who simply con.
And some of them even thinking that they are gifted when they’re simply being used,
And why all those deceptions of Dynamo and company should be refused.
Given spirit beings know no walls or doors, and can reach through such, it’s very clear
That some magicians are being aided, and psychics fed what such beings know and hear.
All why those who dally with such beings and then seek to be free of them soon find
That such beings aren’t working in anyone’s best interests, nor those of mankind.
Folk can laugh at the Bible and its warnings, but hey, why are such coming true,
And all its warnings about reaping and sowing? Hence those things many now rue.
And then there’re those things afflicting society, those dark clouds looming ahead,
And all because sense, wisdom, truth, light and selflessness has largely up and fled.
I admit that many magicians are very clever, even Dynamo,
But some things cannot be accounted for, and with him, I believe such is so.
Yes, there’re devised things that see one walking on water, seeming to levitate,
Which he no doubt uses too, but there’re some things that no human could orchestrate.
So beware those Dynamos, for who knows who or what’s behind them come those acts,
And I believing an evil force that watches with interest, and oft backs.
For trickery and those evil spirit beings have long been bedfellows, you know,
And hence how they con, and more seeds of error, confusion and destruction sow...
Just like many programmes on TV.
By Lance Landall
“Now
war arose in heaven, Michael and His angels fighting against the dragon
[Satan]. And the dragon and his angels fought back. And the great
dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil
and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world — he was thrown down to the
earth, and his angels were thrown down with him”
(Rev 12:7,9, ESV).
“The
coming of the lawless one [anti-Christ] is apparent in the working of
Satan, who uses all power, signs, lying wonders, and every kind of
wicked deception for those who are perishing, because they refused to
love the truth and so be saved” (2 Thess 2:9,10).
“And
I saw, coming out of the mouth of the dragon [Satan] and out of the
mouth of the beast [past cruel power] and out of the mouth of the false
prophet [End-time cruel power], three unclean spirits like frogs. For
they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings
of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of
God the Almighty” (Rev 16:13,14, ESV).
7. A Lament
It seems that those days are gone where crooners graced the air-waves, and had us listening like some captive slave,
Yes, beguiled by singers who truly knew how to sing, unlike those over which the younger set now rave.
Oh, how we appreciated the beauty of a gifted voice, a song well sung, and easy on the ears;
Singers and songs that have faded into the background, or that have sadly disappeared over the years.
Yes, there is nothing like a beautiful voice, or a harmonious blending of talented voices,
And given the many good singers and great material back then, we were spoilt with teasing choices.
And also with lush orchestrations that backed those singers, and that fell with giddy favour on the ears,
Only to lose out to the commercial, money driven groups and bands, that have robbed of those pleasant years.
Yes, times have changed, and few young people have such an appreciation, having never known such beauty,
Their ears tuned to music that knows nothing but beat and noise, and they, more than happy with banality.
And as a consequence, now amongst the crowds whose hearing is damaged, given amplification rules,
And where a desire for music that’s worthy to be called such, and beneficial to the soul, quickly cools.
No, the music wasn’t perfect way back then, for that time had its less than worthy singers and songs too,
And backing that also yielded little growth, but rather, stunted ones taste for better, hence that, “No thank you!”
Yes, those curled up lips at the thought of such beauty that once graced the air-waves, now lost to much younger ears,
And isn’t that the way, for as the years go by, more and more of anything worthy slowly disappears.
By Lance Landall
8. With Music In Mind
You know, it’s been said that music is the universal language of mankind,
And it’s also been said that music is to the soul what words are to the mind.
Oh yes, how people wax lyrical over this piece of music or that, and,
Where lyrics are found too, poetry adding to that magical wonderland.
But having said that, there’s music and there’s music, so what are we taking in?
The soul needing what’s healthy too, junk food and soul trash only fit for the bin.
Yes, we the richer or poorer for it, it either callous or kind, and so,
We choosing very carefully, lest instead of a friend, we’ve embraced a foe.
By Lance Landall
You may wish to read my article In Defence Of Easy Listening Music which can be seen on my page There's More To Be Said.
This older poem was upgraded 14 March 2019.
9. Re Michael Jackson
Whether you’re a Michael Jackson fan or not, you’ve got to admit that his life was indeed a tragedy,
And by that I mean, he really didn’t stand a chance — well, seemingly so, lost in a world of fantasy.
Such was possibly his way of coping, or was he searching? A little boy lost, damaged internally,
Yes, not only disfigured facially, sadly, but also scarred, messed up, and tortured emotionally.
And who knows why, exactly, although there is a degree of evidence, and certain clues, but even so,
’Cause there’s always more beneath the surface — such being, that complexity that's within the human mind, and oh,
How deep some wounds can be, that even midst genius, can have folk acting oddly, bizarrely and wrongly,
And then, due to such behaviour, cruelly ridiculed by a world that doesn’t understand such injury.
And without excuse, 'cause even if not understanding such folk, we should never treat the damaged cruelly,
But rather, should try to understand them, at least as much as one can, thereby acting compassionately.
’Cause why on earth add to someone’s injury, and didn’t he suffer enough, having to live with it all,
Perhaps a vulnerable, insecure and frightened soul, who into some comfy hole, may've wished he could crawl.
Yes, outwardly displaying a certain confidence, but inwardly crying, caught between two worlds, somewhat,
And midst it all, doing certain things (claims of child molestation) that his life, character and career would blot.
And then his death, its timing an outrage, many would say, but isn’t that the way it goes — and why, who knows,
’Cause such is so often the way with the emotionally injured, on whom life such tragedy bestows.
But not that this excuses child molestation, any unconfessed crime robbing one of eternity,
And conveying that the heart and mind (even lifetime) have been corrupted by cruelty and depravity.
Oh, how such evil should pay for its sin, gnash its teeth and rend its clothes, but many having gone to the grave,
All why I’m a believer in a day of judgment, divine justice that will fall on all who so behave.
By Lance Landall
Sad
to say, Michael Jackson dabbled in the occult from where it appears
some of his music emanated, and such is no doubt one reason why both he
and his music deteriorated over time.
10. Talent And Sins Are Two Separate Things
If anything convinces me of two forces, it’s that good and bad in us,
The bad I attributing to a devil, the good to a God called Jesus.
Hence that switching back and forth that goes on, we kind of like a Jekyll and Hyde,
And those two forces fighting for dominance, we on a ladder or a slide.
All why there’s more criminals outside than inside, those in jail just unlucky,
Not that anyone should get away with crime, and why jails there must always be.
And some of those inmates being writers, singers, artists and musicians, say,
Whose worthy produce many stop buying, when outside there’s just as much decay.
Yes, if only we knew what many of the rest are up to, though still on stage,
Hence why talent and sins are two separate things, our own sins filling a page.
A great book a great book, a great song a great song, despite that person in jail,
And so, we not throwing babies out with the bathwater, aware how we fail.
And therefore,
We accepting what came from their good side, rejecting what came from their bad side,
Thus encouraging good and discouraging bad, lest further this sinner slide.
However, we weighing carefully, some connections very close to the bone,
But minding that we’re not indulging in a contemporary way to stone.
Yes, too many rushing to judgment, Facebook full of those who've rocks in their hands,
Even before some case has gone to court, thus in the waste bin great talent lands.
In other words, the produce of someone’s good side, too bad they might turn around,
And if they do, where will their good produce be found, and why should their past still hound?
Oh, how oft we’ve acted badly ourselves, yet to our own products we still cling,
Those good things that our talent created, and here, hypocrisy’s seen to ring.
Yes, we not dumping our things, but their things, one rule for them and one rule for us,
Yet, we too having acted like that devil, rather than that God called Jesus.
So mind what you’re dumping, and what signal it might send, even say about you,
A beautiful painting a beautiful painting, no matter if done by who.
Good springing from good, evil from evil, and none of us free from sin or blame,
Yet dishing it out to others, confusing their good produce with any shame.
Yes, talent and sins are two separate things, unless that talent is used for ill,
’Cause then we’re looking at partners in crime, both the heart and that produce unwell.
We assessing the situation, mindful of our own faults and failings too,
And how the wounded tend to wound, having chosen the same dark force to yield to.
By Lance Landall
11. Don't Toss Good Because Of Bad
If someone’s creation is a worthy thing, perhaps a set of paintings, say,
And you find that that person raped, say, why throw their beautiful paintings away?
Surely those paintings stand alone, they something good that that criminal has done,
And hey, would keeping those paintings be more likely if that rapist was your son?
A telling question, I suspect, yet worthy creations and sins worlds apart,
Each being the product of two compartments existing within the same heart.
The good compartment we accept, the bad compartment we reject, acting fair,
A great book a great book, a great song a great song, hence why sense is needed here.
But no, out goes the baby with the bathwater, feelings running high, askew,
So off the bookshelf, no more air time, and as for those paintings, they’re tossed out too.
Oh, when will we start playing grownups, bearing in mind that good folk err too,
That a rapist can turn the corner, “And as for my creation, what did you do?”
And what would you say? You having tossed what one should applaud, that excellent side,
Confusing and discouraging him, and why rather than rise, further he’ll slide.
And so, we not selling our house because the builder who built it raped someone,
But appreciating his worthy contribution, any good that he’s done.
However, too many are judged guilty before they have even been to court,
Losing their job or position, possibly because of someone’s false report.
So much for blind justice, that lady with the scales, it public opinion now,
Strong pressure coming from certain quarters to which cowardice is seen to bow.
Anger and not sense steering, others caving in, and dropping any good too,
That person penalized before a court finds the accusations false or true.
It all like going back in time — mob rule — messages going from phone to phone,
It all shameful and wrong, and seemingly the contemporary way to stone.
By Lance Landall