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August 2015 WTF Is This All About Challenge Entries

Magnetron

Magnetron

Deep Under Groundhog
Joined
Feb 12, 2014
Posts
4,089
Here are your participants to date.



Author names to be added to entries after August 18.

Themes to television shows that do NOT exist will likewise be tagged later as such.


[1] Theme for Generic Fifties Sitcom
by Tzara
a parody of The Flintstones theme about television shows in general

[2] Berwyn or Bust
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Svengoolie

[3] I Hit the Wall
by Magnetron
an original theme for a television show that does not exist

[4] The Specialist
by Tzara
an original theme for the television show Sherlock Holmes

[5] Those Were the Times
by greenmountaineer
a parody of the theme for and about the television show All in The Family

[6] Carry on Carrying on
by Tristesse2
an original theme for the television show Downton Abbey

[7] The Long Con
by Magnetron
an old song pulled out of Magnetron's ass
though inspired by the character Sawyer from LOST

[8] Mayoral Sweeps
by Magnetron
an original theme for a television show that does not exist

[9] Follow Me
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show The Following

[10] Sons of the Beach
by Magnetron
an original theme for a television show that does not exist

[11] Hooray
by Tristesse2
a parody of the theme for and about the television show Cheers

[12] removed by Magnetron

[13] The Poet Family
by Angeline
a parody of The Addams Family theme

[14] The Beat Poets
by Angeline
a parody of The Monkees theme

[15] See How it Feels?
by Magnetron
another old song pulled out of Magnetron's ass

[16] OneLove
by Magnetron
yet another old song pulled out of Magnetron's ass

[17] Jed's Lament
by Artina Heartflash
a parody of The Beverly Hillbillies theme

[18] Double Infinity
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Revenge

[19] Really?
by Tristesse2
an original theme about Reality television shows in general

[20] Morning After, Shipping Home
by greenmountaineer
a parody of the theme for and about the television show M*A*S*H

[21] Nothing to Show
by greenmountaineer
an original theme for the television show Seinfeld

[22] Can't See the Forest for the Pines
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Wayward Pines

[23] All Lies Lead Back to the Truth
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show The X-Files

[24] Fight the Future
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show LOST

[25] The Lost Isle of The Dead
by Artina Heartflash
an original theme for a television show that does not exist

[26] Jake's Song
by Artina Heartflash
an original theme for the television show The Red Shoes Diaries

[27] A Real Dick Of A Superhero
by Magnetron
an original theme for a television show that does not exist

[28] The Door Into Summer
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Haven

[29] Witches are Bitches
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Salem
also borrowing from an old children's game

[30] Fathers and Sons
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Fringe

[31] Wrap Me
by todski28
an original theme for the television show Dexter

[32] Dead Flies
by Artina Heartflash
an original theme for the television show The Dead Files

[33] Super Funky Sock Monkey Dance
by Magnetron
a not so old song pulled out of Magnetron's ass

[34] Drilled into Their Little Heads
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show The Whispers

[35] My Best Friend
by Magnetron
an original theme for the television show Derek
 
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#1

Theme for Generic Fifties Sitcom

Fifties! It's the fifties!
When everyone is white and lawns are green.
Life is full of whimsy
And Dad is wise and Mom a beauty queen.

There are no social problems to be found.
Everyone is happy 'cuz there's wealth to spread around.

Fifties! Blessèd fifties!
When Junior still has short hair,
Our daughter's chaste as cold air,
And school days still begin with morning prayer!


Option: Replace "white" in line two with "straight"; there were no gays in the 50s, either. :rolleyes:​
 
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#2

Berwyn or Bust

Ill at ease
skeletons without a gut to bust
fall onto their bony knees
not because of flu
or food poisoning;
instead,
welcoming their Master of Ceremonies

Two heart attacks later
he's still undead
Get your rubber chickens ready
and aim for his head!

Hideous creature in black and white
interrupting your feature presentation
every Saturday night
Armed with an outdated joke
a jaded anecdote
Dry humor is such a dangerous occupation
Syndicated
let's pray he doesn't croak
drop dead on the set for real
and need to be resuscitated​
 
#3

I Hit the Wall

I find it odd
so curiously odd
how your fake reality
fist under hand is
raking in the cash
while caught in the cookie jar
leeching
Time to change the channel
Can't take this anymore;
had enough of your preaching
Evangelist
claiming God is nothing but Love
Here's a newsflash for you:
God wouldn't touch me

not even with a rubber glove

I hit the wall
I hit it so hard
It didn't come crashing down
like your steepled house of cards

I hit the wall
I hit the wall so hard
Hit it so fucking hard
my faith shattered into shards​
 
#4

The Specialist

He's brilliant, rude, sarcastic.
His partner has a limp.
He crawls along the carpet's edge.
His main suspect's a chimp.

His brother's in the government,
A job somewhat obscure.
His social skills are rather weak—
In fact, quite immature.

But when the Yard is on a case
In which the clues are thin,
They end up calling at his flat:
Oh, Doctor, is He in?​
 
#5

Those Were the Times

Boy, those Betty Grable legs!
And Moe would sell us Bettie Page
under the counter skin flick mags
with the Sunday Times.

And you knew who were then.
No fags, no way; men were men.
Mister, we could use a man like Rocko Hudson again.

Didn't need no internet.
Wifey in or out of bed,
Boy, knew how to give good head.
Those were the times.
​
 
#6

Carry on Carrying on

Matriarch, old crusty Crawley
Takes a backseat, more or less
Let’s Robert fight the family squalls, he
Manages without much stress,
Because of many a helping hand.
Matt and Mary did their bit
Tightening purse strings, selling off land.
Sybil’s gone but memory’s strong
And Matthew had an untimely end
The family stands where they belong
Slowly moving to a modern trend.

Chorus
Up the downstairs, down the up.
Pint of beer or stirrup cup

Meanwhile those who oil the gears,
Keep the household smoothly running
Stay discretely below the stairs.
Barrow with his snark and cunning
Joins O’Brien’s multi-plotting.
Mrs. P and Daisy Mason slaving
Bravely in the kitchen.
James and Ethel misbehaving,
Carson’s everlasting bitchin’
If he married Mrs. Hughes
Just as all the viewers want
Maybe he could lose the blues.
Here endeth my poetic jaunt.
​
 
#7

The Long Con

Dishing out the bullshit
how ignorant can one really be?
Neither deaf or blind
Dim bulb not bright enough to see
I was there front and center
hiding right in plain sight
In shadows of your darkest hour
I blend with the lowlight

You were the mark in the long con
Bet you thought it was your idea all along
You were the mark in the long con
My endgame you were never in on

What's it feel like
to be taken for the fool
you've always proved yourself to be?
So pretentious, unshaken, cool
clutching your hand of cards
bottom dealt from this custom deck
still clueless of what comes next ...
Six figure bounced check

You were the mark in my long con
Plan never being yours
It was always mine
Even though you thought
it was your idea from the start
you were the mark the entire time​
 
#8

Mayoral Sweeps

Malnourished
Underfed

Shades of humanity they could be
Literally walking dead

Mingling among the living
Needing
Begging
Pleading
For spare change jingling in your pockets
Or anything else worth giving

Zombie! Zombie!
The manager of Amber Crombie and Fitch
Cries out,
Get away from my store
You filthy son of a bitch!
Get a job
You fucking slob
Earn a paycheck
Some dignity
Don't you come back
Until you can afford
My ridiculously expensive clothes

And so it goes

Until the Witching Hour comes
When the streets at night are no longer safe
For cardboard boxed up bums
Down on their luck diseased riddled hoes

Swiftly bringing an end to their daily woes

Filling wobbly shopping carts
With their hobbled torsos
Dismembered body parts
And the occasional meth head
Is the Municipal Cleanup Crew
They're coming for me
They're coming for you

Here
The Mayor is a slayer
Having no pity for the neglected
Denizens of his city
Their breath so shitty
Driving away the tourists
He slams his fists upon his desk
Death becomes them!

Never mind the lack of council support
The plan of attack?

Retroactively abort

Who will miss a few vagrants here and there anyhow?
It's just less urine smell coming from every alleyway

Homeless and unemployed
Forced to pay
The ultimate premium
A lifetime of mistakes and failures cut short​
 
#9

Follow Me

There be no rest for the wicked

Weary are the conflicted souls
who never bury their dead quickly

You and I
we are so alike
not so easily predicted
like the sudden impulse to kill me
now manifesting in your haunted eyes

Dilating wide
the apt pupil
intent upon drowning an audience captive
beneath chilled high tide of shallow shoals
under raptured Annabel skies

Oh, if only you would willingly receive
these handfuls of bread crumbled Poe
gladly fed to the ravenous Raven
before you in the mirror
And there's gothic poetry so divine
to be found hidden within
each spill of the thick red wine
you've been cravin'
Friend, have no fear
and let the blood flow

Let the blood flow

Just let it freely flow
and follow me
wherever I may go​
 
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#10

Sons of the Beach

When Mister Opportunity comes your way
don't be afraid to grab life by the balls
When he comes a knocking
manned vessels sure are rocking

When a Son of the Beach calls
may I suggest a particular port in the bay
where your dingy should be docking
here in Cali-forn-i-aye?

Dashing young seamen
can be found everywhere
May haps a pirate or two
harrr-pooning for a fare

No Ahabs warring over whale blubbers
or Jersey Shore drama about your Mama
on a staged "reality television" set
So get ready
and be sure to wear your rubbers
because your about to get wet
here in Cali-forn-i-ay-aye

Where everyone is friendly and gay

Butte Pilot, Cali-forn-i-aye
​
 
#11

Hooray

meeting your friends for a drink tonight
won’t take much of your time;
taking a break from work and office
wouldn’t be a crime
so have a beer and get a bite.

all those nights when you've got no fight,
and your head is like a sponge;
and your bestest girl
won’t agree to take the plunge;
you need your buds to make it right;

sometimes it’s nice to go
where everybody’s feeling good,
they very nearly give you wood;
you want to be where you can see,
your buddies from the ‘hood;
you want to be where everyone calls you “dude”.

be happy there's one place you know
where other people like to go,
and they're always glad to see you, so
you want to go where people know,
people are into booze;
you want to go where everybody likes to shmooze.

here everyone likes to drink,
they know just what you think;
here everybody thinks you’re smart ,
and flattery’s off the chart;
​
 
#13

The Poet Family

They're horny and they're nutty,
preoccupied and smutty.
They play with words like putty,
The Poet Family.

They hang out on the forum
(and few with much decorum).
How can you not adore um?
The Poet Family.

Nouns!
Verbs!
Words!

So come with a thesaurus
a webcam and a chorus.
It's better when there's more us!
The Poet Family.​
 
#14

The Beat Poets

Here we come
Walking down Main Street
Rejected, reviled
By every square we meet.

Hey, hey we're Beat Poets
And people say we're Commies on drugs,
But we're caught up in the dharma
So we don't give a fuck.

We're just being creative
And Corso needs to be fed,
When Bill is feeling playful
He'll shoot an apple off your head

Hey, hey we're Beat Poets,
Our leader is a Buddhist Yid,
So you better get ready,
We may be coming for your kids.​
 
#15

See How it Feels?

I don't know what to make of this

I don't know what to make of this

These hands, clumsy
ferrous nickel adamantium alloy
void of sensation
lacking a single neural network receptor
Frustration grows with every hour
unable to experience the fabric of a flower
texture, pain, pleasure, joy
The only thing worth using them for

is to crush and destroy

I take from you what you take for granted
I take from you what you deprived me of
You can have my hate, I give it to you freely
and in exchange

I will take away everything that you love

I think
processing, therefore, I am
Analysis, conclusion: I think I am entitled
to smash all of your dreams
squeeze the pulp from your hope
reverse engineer
everything that you hold dear
until you resign from playing Maker

or swing from the end of a rope

I will take away everything that you love
and in exchange, you are welcome to all my hate
Take a moment to reflect on your actions
consider what you deprived me of

a life that was never yours to create​
 
#16

OneLove

I was feelin' restless
just the other night
so I went for a little jog
and while pounding the pavement
of this World Wide Web
I ran across a crazy Blog

Slackers skatin', breakdancers gyratin'
They were spinnin' outta control
Had to pause to catch my breath
those breathtaking murals stole

Now, normally I ain't a fan of the city
but there was so much graffiti -
it was oh so pretty!
I stopped to admire the beauty of it all
when I paid this cutie a booty call

OneLove
She's a mocha cappuccino with a raspberry swirl
OneLove
with the finesse 'n' grace of a dirty cam girl
OneLove
I think the Machine is missing a cog
Onelove
She's the hip cat queen of the street scene
It's all right there in her Blog!

Whoooooo!
Blog this

Oh yeah!
Blog that

Yaooooowzers!
Blog this

Blog this
Crazy man!

Blog that
Can you dig it?

Blog this!
​
 
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#17

Jed's Lament

Jethro, listen to a story
From your Uncle Jed:
I woke up this morn
And found Granny in my bed.
It shook the horse bells on me
As I touched what she had shorn.
No warmth in her hen house,
She was stiffer than corn.
Cob that is.
Outhouse kind.
Big cock tease.​
Well at first I thought Hoo doggy!
What’d I get into?
I was troubled so much worser
Than a possum in hot stew.
Then I rolled her o’er to wake her
And she fell hard off the bed.
Old Duke howled beneath her;
Jethro, Granny was dead!

I was hurtin’ bad all over
From my heart to tail.
I wrapped her up in ripped sheets,
Kicked aside the moonshine pail.
There wasn’t much of woodshed
Left to build a casket still,
So I loaded her on truck
And I drove on up the hill.
HumBum Hill.
It’s in her will
To be buried there.​
Well halfway up,
Heard a cackle from behind.
“Doggone it, Jed!
Get me out of this bind!
Fetch the horse liniment!
Ain't so stiff as I am sore!”
She jumped in the front
And my jaw hit the floor.

Swear, I never thought that ol’ truck
Could do hunert and eight.
Granny has some fanny.
Yeh, that surgeon’s job was great.
Her bubbles rose high
As she kissed my horny toad.
The next thing I knew
We was spinning off the road.

Well the truck is dead and splintered
In a ditch nearbouts.
My jeans are ripped.
Granny’s bun is all torn out.
Coulda lost more
If she hadn’t spat her dents.
Learn, Jethro, from this
As I give ye my two cents:
Don’t sex and drive.
Arrive alive!​
 
#18

Double Infinity

Last night I hastily awoke
alone in this darkened cell
fleeting
the sensation of a shovel
blistering sweaty palms
a pair of freshly dug graves at my feet
still standing there
lingering
feeling only a hate
a child torn from a parent
can relate to

Should I fail to tell you
how this dream ends
my body may be found six feet down
in the rectangular hell on the left

The right one is your fate

Entwined in delicate dances
our paths will cross
circle eight
as we meet again
under alternative circumstances
only I create

Until then

I wait​
 
#19

Really?

Where do they come from
and why? Fifteen minutes
isn’t long enough Andy,
they need more, sometimes
a double serving or more.

From all walks they have
no fear it seems of looking foolish,
hurting others, disgracing themselves.
Whether confined in incompatibility
by walls or wilderness,
living under the magnifying glass
of a lens or exposing their ugliness
insulated by inflated egos, they thrive.

We feed them, fast and cheap.
We watch them, to our shame.
We make excuses, guilty pleasure.
We get what we deserve.
Brain dead.​
 
#20

Morning After, Shipping Home

The early morning fog reveals
choppers on the battlefield,
the first leg of no longer me
the day that I had finally seen

that fratricide is ageless.
The devil never changes.
He just has different faces
that took my youth away from me,

and Dover Air Force Base shall be
the next leg in my odyssey
before they put me on a train
at night when no one else will see

that fratricide is ageless.
The devil never changes.
He just has different faces,
except among the cypress trees.​
 
#21

Nothing to Show

"Masters of our domain are we"
the bard in the prime of his life once said.
Nothing was there, yet everyone came,
including those whose mothers would faint.

There's always a fool living next door
with beeline eyes that scan tall buildings
for picture windows or sliding door porches
to walk up bedrooms where maybe there's skin

while on the street the girl in the cab
whose peep show of her taxicab chèr
won't see eye to eye from him
to go upstairs and turn out the lights.

All said and done, they sleep alone,
or if they can't sleep, play solitaire,
but they had better have a good hand.
Otherwise, there's nothing to show for it.​
 
#22

Can't See the Forest for the Pines

Everything known to be true regarding
the world we were accustomed to now
continuing despite our absence without
any knothole glimpses through this
gateless community fence

Wayward souls
never
to be returned

Uprooted from lives taken for granted
each tree transplanted into suburbanality
where the disenchanted envision prospects
beyond the wall guarding
your makeshift God complex

Need to see the forest for the pines
or perhaps it should all be
burned​
 
#23

All Lies Lead Back to the Truth

Triangular shaped
unknown foreign object
hovering noiselessly in the air

silhouetted against bright stars
suspended above a trailer home on wheels

Mother awakening to recurring nightmare
aware of gray skinned visitors tip toeing
trampling her already damaged psyche

mind raped again as previously forgotten
compounding the mental scars

caring little how she feels
no emotions showing

the frustration grows

Covert operation conducted
Abducted
an innocent child
subjected to experimentations
implanted with tracking device
Accusations later to follow
too wild to be believed in
and taken seriously

Believed in too little to late
as flashlight beams pierce the darkness
investigate
farmhouse cellars
sewer tunnels
obsolete missile silos
with intent to illuminate

While others in positions of power and authority
continue to Deceive
Inveigle
Obfuscate

Unsolved mystery or government conspiracy?
Plausible Deniability
Here come more Men in Black
driving dark sedans with tinted windows

Memories stolen
erased from my youth
Will they ever be returned to me?

If I've learned anything
it's the undeniable fact

All Lies lead back to the Truth​
 
#24

Fight the Future

How long must we continue fighting the future?
Never living life for ourselves
always on the run
The time is now to accept
what's done is done
can't be undone
The time is now here in
paradise

Waterfalling days spilling out of order
Nights rewinding longer
fast forward shorter

Time together spent in our heads miles away
islands apart
lost

Tossed moral compasses
price paid with every friend and loved one we sacrifice
Does the end justify the line in the sand crossed?

Am I saving the world for everyone else
or saving myself from the world?

Hollow is the cost of the private holocaust​
 
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