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Leal Knowone Jan 2017
The threshold of the unpassed
days of future past
dolled my own edge
living life in my head
I've worn more nooses than crowns
we've seen the empires fall down
dreams fall down to the ground
and we don't make a sound

love to see death on the TV screen
*** it seems so real to me
and life can be so obscene
better than life so real to me

The endless charades we play
The memories last
Living life on the edge
wondering will it last
I've worn more nooses than crowns
the walls come crumbling down
dreams fall down to the ground
And we can't make  sound
Darel Rex Finley Jan 2017
Superb Owl sat in front of his TV.
The more he ate, the more touchdowns he'd see.
The more he drank, the better did his team.
Let's all share Superb Owl's superb scheme!
Inspired by Lance Stricklin.
Andrew T Jan 2017
The radio
plays a different song
depending on your mood.
So I make you turn sour grapes
and suddenly Jimmy Eats World
hits the speakers.

I wait; nothing great ever happens.
Blame it on me,
as I drive under the tunnel.
You put the window down,
light a cigarette, and tell me,
"I put my soul into this art ****."

I don't know how to respond
to that statement, so I keep driving.
The smoke leaks out,
covering the night like a quilt.
You ask me, "Where'd you leave the drugs?"

I don't respond.
Tap my shoulder until I twitch
and say, "Cut it out."
But this time, you open the door,
step out to the road,
and ditch me to go watch "La La Land"
with your ex.

I go home and make a tuna melt.
The sunlight is fading and nothing
good is playing on TV.
The couch pulls out into a bed
and there I shut my eyes.

And I tumble into dreams,
dreams where you exist
to hold me up,
instead
of pulling me down.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
Inside there lays a sort of guilt.
Insuring that the electric company does their job.
The only problem is most nights there is never anything worthwhile watching.
I often question the receptacle, the thought of changing cable providers.
I thought of saving myself, turning the tv off and going to sleep.
But where's the fun in that.
Watching colors run frantically across the screen.
The flick of a button brings a different hue.
A different click of the screen lock checking for notifications, plugging my phone back on the charge.
By passing all the channels at least twice before finding a show that fills the 30 minute gap.
The hard part of favorite shows is that most time they come on when either there's not enough time. Or someone spoils the ending.
Either way here I am looking for something to devote my time.
And here I am, seeking
Some kind of reassurance that you'll return after the infomercials.
My new favorite show.
You
Thomas Newlove Oct 2016
"Turn off the television set"
"Switch off the films in your head"
"Disconnect the internet"
"Put away the books you haven't read"

"Wake up and go outside and see,
And stop all this hiding from the truth -
See the world as how it's meant to be,
Sunbathe in the garden; on the roof."

I think I'd rather live in fantasy
(Even if my eyes melt down my face)
From watching films, to escape reality,
Than wake up to the horrors of this place.
Francie Lynch Nov 2016
BeforeTV

Before TV,
When we were together,
Before growing apart
From father and mother,
We entertained ourselves with song;
All the sisters and brothers.

We gambolled in the backyard,
The clothes line was our zip line,
We fell soft, then hard.

We somehow got a hold of skates,
Not knowing what they're for,
So we took turns,
Laced them on,
To skate on cement floors.

We raised a high jump,
Skipped on the driveway,
Double Dutch and Speed;
We strung a line for volleyball,
Nailed a hoop below the roof,
Played soccer in the hall.
We paddled ping-pong on the table;
Our household freedom
Made us as grateful
As animals in a well-kept stable.

Some winters we'd flood the back,
And shoot and slide until the cracks
Turned to puddles,
Then I'd sail popsiclestick boats
Over oceans,
To distant folks.

On the frontwalk we tossed our stones,
Landing on the moon,
And hopscotch til we went for soup
And soda bread and **** milk.

If we had a ball and bat,
Chances are we'd not come back
'til the sun went down;
And then,
When the stars came out,
We'd *Hide and Seek,

Til the last one'd shout,  Home Free.
With dirt and patchwork dungarees,
We went in
For good-night tea.

Weren't we the normal family?

Then we got our first T.V.

After T.V.

We were landed,
Not gentry,
And we started channelling
U.S. T.V.

We weren't polite like Cartwrights,
Nor guaranteed Lil' Joe's birthright.

The sisters locked on Patty Duke,
Then dressed the same
To get the look,
So they ditched their Wellie boots.


We'd lie on the floor,
Stuck like glue,
On Sundays watch Ed's Big Shoe.
We didn't know the sun had left,
Our eyes were on the TV set.

The Cleaver boys still got dessert,
Though leaving green beans on their plate,
Left ice-cream and sweet chocolate cake.
We'd stare confused, yet salivate;
Such treats and food we'd never waste.

The Douglas boys had single beds,
En suites, bathrobes,
Hair on their heads;
Pillows and open windows,
And locks on doors,
They weren't co-ed.
We slept, at least, two to a bed,
Four to a room, two bedspreads.
We slept on mattresses with stinging springs,
Torn and traced with stale *****.
In the hot and humid summer,
In bathing suits
We'd swim in slumber.
Our small window couldn't open,
We roasted in our four walled oven.

We watched Lassie and Gomer Pyle,
Green Acres' Arnold had us beguiled.
We didn't get Father Knows Best,
His gentleness raised our regrets.
Lucy and Ricky, an odd couple,
Were always getting into trouble,
Like Fred and best bud, Barney Rubble.

Were these the models to emulate,
To blend in North of the United States?

These families had open conversations,
Shared their thoughts without hesitation.
Mine were full of consternation,
And alien, like My Favourite Martian.

We grew in a foreign land,
Beached like the cast on Gilligan.

Surely, we were Lost in Space,
Separate from the human race.
No gyroscope to set direction,
To separate fact from fiction.

We weren't stupid,
We were astute;
We weren't the ones on our TV.
We were a singular family.

Post T.V.

We numbered ten at the start,
Then aged and drifted far apart;
We can't gather to watch TV,
As we were once wont to be.
But I remember Ernest T.,
Throwing rocks to win Charlene,
And arrested by Sheriff Andy.
We laughed at all the silly doings
Of Barney, and Thelma Lou's wooings.

I send e-mails and textual banter,
(One brother still likes writing letters),
Reminding me of our early days,
How TV censured our innocent ways.

We never were small screen.
We emigrated to Canada from Ireland in 1957. A brave new world.
Travis Dixon Mar 2011
reality television
doesn’t just sell a vision
it crawls & squirms like
disease-ridden worms
contracted through the eyes
to terrorize the temples
of self & hope, pushing us down
this precipitous ***** of
cannibalization feeding on
station after station & projecting
its virus to every nation
LOOK@ME
LOOK@ME


why?
what ever have you done
beyond sell your being to
the vultures circling the
stumbling corpse of dignity
cackling in the sunny waste
at our utter lack in taste
eroded by the steady stream
of soulless visions hellbent on
sowing never-ending divisions
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

but it’s never enough
because the machine is lubed
& cheap to boot, all the better
for the execs collecting loot
thus the only prescription
is to denounce this fiction
with the utmost conviction
and step back into
reality.
Miss Clofullia Nov 2016
When real love kicks in..
And I mean the R E A L deal,
not the one that
TV shows present to you as being "part of life" in 23 minutes episodes!

The ****** up, messy entanglement that takes your heart,
blindfolds it and then starts kicking it from the side,
the parks, theaters and picnic one,
the “please make me a sandwich while I take out the trash” one,
the big-spoon-little-spoon-during-the-night one,
the “we just visited your parents last month and I don’t feel like doing it again very soon” one,
the fuzzy wazzy baby voicey one,
the planes, trains and automobiles one,
the “you snore so bad that I wanna **** you sometimes” one,
the bad morning breath after a hard day’s drinking night one,
the cinnamon flavoured one,
the “not 8 years and a half, but 8 years and 7 months” one
the one for which you cannot find words to describe it right.

When THAT kicks in..
you better be ready to sleep on the couch!
Louise Ruen Nov 2016
I'm not the greatest at sharing feelings.
I like to pretend that I'm well liked, pretty and everyone's friends.
I even like to imagine that I in the future there might be a man who I could love, and who might even love me aswell.

Then you came, and I got scared.
Heart locked up but lips sealed
Time for me to search for a bush I could hide under, until my devotion for school forced me to get up and go
Which I did only to realize I didn't feel awkward despite it all.

But it was a night of mistakes. I told you so. Kept telling you so.
You were just the lucky one out of four guys trying the same as you.
So I repeated the sentence to you, until I almost started believing it myself.

While your beard grew longer, I started distancing myself.
But you had put on your running shoes and was ready for a marathon.
Wasn't that what I always wanted?
You beard would move up and down when you would speak  the words than would eventually convince me so.

Because you were third time lucky.
Despite waking up confused, not because of the wine and the *****, but because I felt like I was leading you on, and I didn't want to repeat the already done mistakes, but at the same time loving and finding comfort in your spicey scent. Even your weird *** breath.
No longer able to use alcohol as an excuse to want your lips to find mine.

But I was and am rightfully scared.
When your hands slide down my skin, my mind turns turns a grainy black and white like an old television.
And just like the TV I've slightly stopped functioning.
Broadcasting my insecurities and therefore my biggest fear.
Your arms wrap around me telling me there's nothing to be frightened off, but I'm my own worst enemy.
I guess it reflects just how ****** up I am, and I'm sorry for my never-ending stupidity.
Maybe it's all because you really are too good for me.
I for sure never understood why you stayed.
I still don't understand.
What if one day you realize?
The 'background' story and continuation of "The Bambi and the Highway"
Julia Jaros Nov 2016
A correnteza espalha as lágrimas rio abaixo
Aglomeradas, tornam-se banais
Ninguém vê, liga a TV
Outra hora a gente se vê.

Misturadas, ainda estão lá
Cada vez, mais e mais
Acostumadas, satisfaz
Invisíveis não perturbam nossa paz.

Deixe que o rio leve
São muitas para se importar
Combinado, ninguém cede
Como a burguesia e a plebe.
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