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Star BG 3d
I want to go back to the time
where cell phones existed not,
and communication was more personal.

Where TV was radio
and eyes with mind collaborated for imagination
as ears reveled in sound.

I want to go back to a time
where people would be on street holding hands instead of phones. And individuals looked at one another to see each others expressions instead of impersonal texting.

I want to go back
where there was no internet to steal ones time on a Face Book site that takes your information and tries to promote fake friendships.

I want to go back yes back
to a time where I could meet a poet for lunch
instead of only on a site that keeps one at distance.

Time waits for no one and so progress
for the sake of disconnect continues.

Until robots replace our reality.
This poem is so so much NOT like what I write. Its just tonight I found myself disconnecting from everything. I turned off my cell phone, don't have a TV so didn't have to do anything with one  and am just chilling with myself
as I feel distant from most of who I know. (my decision)
I think everyone should sometimes step back to do a re-set
Alexis 5d
(The quote “When she gets giddy, anything can happen” is pulled directly from the episode mentioned in the poem. The episode is called ‘Irma Decides Al Needs A Psychiatrist’ and is available for free on the internet.)

An episode of the radio show My Friend Irma aired on
April 2nd, 1951, with an advertisement for
Pepsodent toothpaste and a live audience.

Punchdrunk and in love. Radio waves built from
dead laughter. Sounds from people whose
vocal chords no longer have the capacity vibrate.

The lead actress, Marie Wilson, was married
three times and died of cancer in 1972.
She was 56 years old and had stared in

seven years worth of radio shows,
more than a twenty movies, and a television show
that ran for two years.

She has three Hollywood Walk of Fame
stars dedicated in her name. And yet, that
wasn’t enough to get her to stick around.

At some point in her life she must have thought
that time would freeze, and love would make her immortal
When she gets giddy, anything can happen.

But time kept moving, and she realized she had to
move with it. Forward, until her very existence was beat
into disappearance by illness and sentiment.

From 9 to 10 PM on certain days of the week,
on the station 96.5 FM, between the sounds
of conservative radio aimed senior citizens,

her voice crackles through on vibrating air.
None of her marriages lasted, her body did not
make it to senior citizen status, and yet

I can hear her, as clearly as if she was
in the next room over, joking for a dead audience,
a ghost choir of time traveling sounds.
c Jan 4
We aren’t an album
We’re the single
That played on the radio
Until everyone hated it
Including us.
my darling has
his keys in the car
and a hand on
my hip making
sure i don't slip.
cigarette in his
lips with the radio
down low as he
drives slow.
he asks me
where do i want
to go?
the streetlights
Illuminate his skin
and i squeeze his
hand tight as we
search out some
thing marvellous
and magical from
amongst a cold
winter night.
you have a
delightful diesel
infused smile.
where have you
been honey?
it's been awhile.
William Maxwell Dec 2018
I realised I was waiting to drown
But I thought of you now and then
The sky's falling down
And I want to feel that pain again
So I still hope you smile
When you hear our old songs on the radio
I know it's been a while
But we've got a long way to go
I miss you singing out of tune...
Lily Nov 2018
The gas meter read
Full, and our hearts were open,
Our walls were torn down.
JR Rhine Oct 2018
High above dear Maple Street
There looms a cold iron curtain of fear
That dares to drop and let all the monsters
Unleash their dreaded promise of chaos
As in Europe despots gift a new World War
Trembling parlors hug the radio

Hallows Eve: the radio
Begins to sing throughout dear Maple Street
The Seventh Trumpet declares all out war
And that heavy iron curtain of fear
Eclipses the sun and invites chaos
In vacant hearts of men into monsters

Halloween Night: the monsters
Now dance to the tune of the radio
Raiding the stores, jumping bridges, chaos
Entombing the stretch of this blood strewn street
Parlors gorging on endless waves of fear
Riding hysteria, imminent war

O great catalyst of war
Twisting the minds of men into monsters
Diving your hands in that great pit of fear
Now throbbing with screams from the radio
No fences nor faces can save Maple Street
Now plunged in the throes of sweet sultry Chaos

And we call it Chaos
This boiling of minds all stewing with war
Once masked with humanity on this street
Now reveals good neighbors make great monsters
Skies of martians (n)or men, the radio
Hissing, twists the knobs and tunes in to fear

And when that curtain of fear
Draws, and shadeless light casts on the chaos
And the broadcast fades on the radio
And mere fiction rescinds the throne of war
What will we make of all of these monsters
Scattered about in a daze through the street

Where there are minds of fear and war,
Chaos reigns and calls to the sleeping monsters;
Tune in to Welles’s radio on Sterling’s street.
All Hallow's Eve, 80 years ago today, Orson Welles gave his "War of the Worlds" radio broadcast to an America terrified of war, enveloped in fear. I tied it into one of my favorite episodes of the Twilight Zone by the same name, where a neighborhood becomes engrossed in fear, resorting to an animal-like defense that eventually tears apart their humanity.
Jolan Lade Oct 2018
I'm a lonely voice broadcasting radio waves into a deaf space

I'm unwillingly hidding in the shadow of all their grace

My emotions are an lonely civilisation in a empty space

My voice are useless when I'm outside their walls screaming at their gates

All that plays again and again is the shapes of my mistakes

While I'm sitting here wasted and displaced, sad I haven't got what it takes
Still here, locked inside my own sphere
Peter Balkus Oct 2018
I'm not the biggest fan
of Mendelssohn,
but I never turn the radio off,
when he is on.
And more I hear him in the speakers,
more I him want.

I think this day is coming though,
when I'll become
the biggest, biggest ever fan
of Mendelssohn.
Written while listening to "A Midsummer Night's Dream - Scherzo by Felix Mendelssohn" on Classic FM.
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