Mother pulled the beat to hell diluted blood red minivan containing my brother and I into the darkened parking lot. The car couldn't park fast enough as my brother and I tore the creaky side door open and leapt onto the awaiting pavement. We stepped from darkness into light as we hopped onto a curb to be greeted by the brilliance of neon lights erected atop a single story rectangular building squatting at the top of the rectangular lot like a full measure rest. Glass windows as whole walls teased the treasures that lay before my eyes window-shopping like madmen I felt the objects of my covetry leap from their white shelves into my sweaty youthful grasp. Mother breezed forward, stepping across the tier confidant and disengaged; the front door rang announcing our presence. Two bells sounded: ring ring. The Rhines were here. Like a pistol shot signifying the start of a race, my brother and I scampered and scattered and scuttled like wild animals, scouring the shelves that sat dispersed through the gleaming room consuming with our eyes words that told stories with pictures that danced and sang. Clusters of shelves huddled together under several flat signs hung by frail strings dangling from the ceiling displaying themes that told me where to avoid "Romance" and where to find my beloved "Science Fiction." I halted, realizing almost as if there were indentations within the itchy carpet that had alerted me to the place where I had cemented by ruddy feet countless times before. I took my roving eyes from the stalling ground to peer up into the shelves that loomed over me like giants, arching over my head like holy stones erected atop holy celebratory sites of yore. My fingers traced along the shelves trailing over the innumerate plastic spines that encased my bountiful riches; I mouthed the vibrant words imprinted like cattle on each of them and sang to myself stories that spawned off of each one before finding the paragon that most expertly weaved JR the Raconteur into its fabrications. I bore into its dazzling shell hungrily, gobbling up faces and places and names and dates I spun it over to its backside to read plots to read histories to read legacies to read memories I read and read and saw and saw my mind was never more alive with the astounding conception of limitless potentialities my night was just getting started and with my final selection--and mother's blessing--I would march home victoriously wielding my fortune, my medium for which the pictures in my mind would transpose and dance before me like luminous sprites on the brilliant splendor of a luminescent two dimensional stage that is the television screen. It was the weekend getaway I waited for with anticipation every Saturday; I was an unversed monk relishing in the ancient libraries of History.

We paint our lives on color film
Absorbing familiar reflection
And we watch as we live
So little in color film
We love, we ****
We bleed, we die
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think we are the reflection
Why are we watching?
Mountain sides and Lilly beds
Prairies and the mighty ocean
Now held in our hands
Nobody is there
Is anyone here
What is everyone watching?

Loneliness painted in window sills
Plasma radiation gleams on
White, pictureless walls
Millions

Watching sunsets
And passions flame
Lust pervert
Warm golden skin
Radiates tangerine
And the lonely feel
Vicarity
Painting red
On Blank slates
And fill with vacant desire

Million of on lookers
Alone, watching

Watching the world burn
Watching mothers cry
Watching beaches sludge
Watching deserts snow
Watching brave children die
Watching brothers betray
Watching love fail
Watching countries fall
Watching debts paid

Millions of miles of tapes and bits
Project a millions of protestant cries
Endlessly, eternally
Do we think God is watching?

Do we think?
While we're watching
Bathing in radiation
Children don't know how to read
Live their lives on
A television screen
A whole generation
Living vicariously
Do we think?

Millions of gray souls
And avid voters
Watch angry men spout nostalgic redirect
Watch their children live their lives
Watch game shows and advertisements
Watch the six o' clock news
Watch police shoot children in the street

A million beautiful, lonely people
Watch red carpet vanity
Watch million dollar celebrity parties
Watch the American dream lash the
Backs of the fuedal and disenfranchised
Watch depraved souls sacrifice self
For the company of fame

Meanwhile children don't read

Do we think?
A thought original
Is there any thing left to believe
Everyone so sure there's nothing they haven't seen
Nobody leaves their house
Nobody can bear to read
Just watch the world slip into insanity

Ignorance is the greatest weapon
Yet all I see is guns blazing
80 billion dollars to dry the desert
Not a one for education

American families gather
Around their TV screens
They can't stop watching
They're afraid of what they see
Do they think God is watching?


I hope God isn't watching

Start
explore and discover
risky adventures
stories of the past
secret confessions
ocarina song sequestered within
player two
heart container
power up
try and lose
hide and recover
glitch
reach out for help
wrong time wrong place
will there ever be a right time?
obstacle after obstacle
cycle all over again
such a coward
big boss challenge
fight or run?
Game over or continue?

Been dimming.

Swimming in the brimming I don't mean.

When ways of convenience and routine fall prey to entropy
communicative moralities convey what will convene
to birth an expectation.
from misinformed and ill-preperation
after crossing over seeking pastures green,
to find im swimming somewhere sneaking in between.

You see videos mean jack ****.
Videos don’t play the atmosphere in the air
tinged gently with **** from the nearby toilette
videos don’t play how it started.
They don’t hear the pounding of the dragon flies wings in the air
and the Walt Whitman you read before you arrived or
the amazing or ****** day the camera man had.
The tension of the air between two warriors as they fought
in good fun or for good riddance.
Videos do just as great a job as the person who watches
a minute of a debate and confidentially declares the winner.
Granted there is no such thing as what actually happened
everything I write beyond this is opinion declared to be fact.

Let this trend please, like it, share it, send it to collections, its Edgar allen poe.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=08_cqtFLQ3c

Please watch the more views I get the better chance I have to win the 1500$ prize, or audience choice, I hope I can at least be a finalist and walk away with 200$ because this is one of my favorite poems, and Its Edgar allen poe so this is related enough to share, also If I am the winner audience choice or finalist I will get featured on larger poetry sites, for my video but that can also help with my poems and soon to come movement. So please do me a favor!  

if your into making videos check out www.projected.com because winning prizes are 1000$ or more, and finalist get 200$ so why not even try if you're just getting into the video making thing, you could earn money for equipment and other stuff you may need. its also all about getting people to read again, so they do have poetry challenges for more money because for the obvious reason those are more important than books.

hey so I make videos, and look, you all are smart people so who else should try and make a video for this and maybe win $1500! so I am going to do it, you should to, and if you're a finalist you get 200$ they care more bout the audio. visual is not as important, but I feel all poets should be available to this challenge! again AUDIO IS KEY! read the rules! I am planning on entering so even if you're not going to enter, please comment and give me some ideas bc I got equipment (cameras, mics, video crap) and days to film, and it's a class project/ final for me, and I GOT TO PICK IT, I sometimes like my film class x.x but link below!

https://www.projected.com/contests/77-a-song-for-annabel-lee

She scratches in all the right places
When she thinks no one's looking;
Doe the weirdest you'd imagine
In the kitchen, when she's cooking.
When she cleans a spotless house
She seldom wears a stitch:
How do I know,
Get the peep-show?
She forgot the video switch.