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Acclaim is a distraction.

quote by James Broughton
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Missionary - Canto Fourth

Far in the centre of the deepest wood,
The assembled fathers of their country stood.
'Twas midnight now; the pine-wood fire burned red,
And to the leaves a shadowy glimmer spread;
The struggling smoke, or flame with fitful glance,
Obscured, or showed, some dreadful countenance;
And every warrior, as his club he reared,
With larger shadow, indistinct, appeared;
While more terrific, his wild locks and mien,
And fierce eye, through the quivering smoke, was seen.
In sea-wolf's skin, here Mariantu stood;
Gnashed his white teeth, impatient, and cried, blood!
His lofty brow, with crimson feathers bound,
Here, brooding death, the huge Ongolmo frowned;
And, like a giant of no earthly race,
To his broad shoulders heaved his ponderous mace.
With lifted hatchet, as in act to fell,
Here stood the young and ardent Teucapel.
Like a lone cypress, stately in decay,
When time has worn its summer boughs away,
And hung its trunk with moss and lichens sere,
The Mountain-warrior rested on his spear.
And thus, and at this hour, a hundred chiefs,
Chosen avengers of their country's griefs;
Chiefs of the scattered tribes that roam the plain,
That sweeps from Andes to the western main,
Their country-gods, around the coiling smoke,
With sacrifice, and silent prayers, invoke.
For all, at first, were silent as the dead;
The pine was heard to whisper o'er their head,
So stood the stern assembly; but apart,
Wrapped in the spirit of his fearful art,
Alone, to hollow sounds of hideous hum,
The wizard-seer struck his prophetic drum.
Silent they stood, and watched with anxious eyes,
What phantom-shape might from the ground arise;
No voices came, no spectre-form appeared;
A hollow sound, but not of winds, was heard
Among the leaves, and distant thunder low,
Which seemed like moans of an expiring foe.
His crimson feathers quivering in the smoke,
Then, with loud voice, first Mariantu spoke:
Hail we the omen! Spirits of the slain,
I hear your voices! Mourn, devoted Spain!
Pale-visaged tyrants! still, along our coasts,
Shall we despairing mark your iron hosts!
Spirits of our brave fathers, curse the race
Who thus your name, your memory disgrace!
No; though yon mountain's everlasting snows
In vain Almagro's toilsome march oppose;

[...] Read more

poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Love Action

When you're in love
You know you're in love
No matter what you try to do
You might as well resign yourself
To what you're going through
If you're a hard man or if you're a child
It still might get to you
Don't kid yourself you've seen it all before
A million mouths have said that too
I've had my hard times in the past
I've been a husband and a lover too
I've lain alone and cried at night
Over what love made me do
And the loved ones who let me down
And couldn't share my point of view
But this is philomena talking
I want to tell you
What i've found to be true
I love your love action
Lust's just a distraction
No talking, just looking
Watching your love action
I believe, i believe what the old man said
Though i know that there's no lord above
I believe in me, i believe in you
And you know i believe in love
I believe in truth though i lie a lot
I feel the pain from the push and shove
No matter what you put me through
I'll still believe in love
And i say
I love your love action
Lust's just a distraction
No talking, just looking
Watching your love action
I love your love action
Lust's just a distraction
No talking, just looking
Watching your love action
I love your love action
Lust's just a distraction
No talking - i'm just checking
To see if someone out there
Is really reading all this

song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Heart Of God

Oooooo I'm really scared
Love and hate flared
-First act your tsunami-
The beauty of distraction
All sin's destruction

I am the sinner
Reflecting your mirror
Your clay's inner
My soul's sheerer

Owwwwe I'm really scared
Love and hate flared
-Second act your volcano-
Melting lava and sulfur air
Showing off your flair
The beauty of distraction
All sin's destruction

I am the sinner
Reflecting your mirror
Your clay's inner
My soul's sheerer

Ooooooo I'm really scared
Love and hate flared
-Third act your earthquake-
Dislodging all foundations
Fuming your frustrations
The beauty of distraction
All sin's destruction

I am the sinner
Reflecting your mirror
Your clay's inner
My soul's sheerer

Owwwwe I really don't care
For I am human
Therefore I am
The heart of God
You devil cannot dissolve
My faith's resolve
The beauty of distraction
All sin's destruction

I am the sinner
Reflecting your mirror
God's clay inner
My soul's sheerer

[...] Read more

poem by leaking Pen
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Hello Goodbye AP

HELLO GOODBYE A.P.

Has 'Chance' ever sought to undo
Events it engenders, whose aim
Links Cause and Effect, threads into
Life's wonder it treads till Time's claim
Opens onto dark void to ensue -
Goodbye to AP's passing fame!

Has maid caught swain’s thought to braid two
Ever one? What begun with acclaim
Leads to au revoir as all view
Lifted hand for departure, proclaim
Once need not be forever - 'tis true.
'Goodbye to AP! ' calls her name!

Has the rainbow bewitched him? Arched cue
Energizing emotions which flame
Like love's blaze to amaze through and through,
Light waves, soaring, stay never the same,
Ochre, green, turn, deep scarlet, bright blue.
Goodbye to AP features game!

His soul-song soft-strong would pursue
Elsewhere echoes profound, to our shame,
Laughter twinning Yin, Yang, spinning through
Lasting memories all should reframe,
Opportunities none should subdue.
Goodbye to AP she'd exclaim!

Heart explores other skies bright and blue,
Eliminates obstacles lame,
Like a spark which the dark lit - it knew
Lately motivations none may tame.
Overdue, old page turns towards new,
Goodbye to AP's rhyming flame!

Hence! calls finger, don’t linger, renew
Emotions whose motions enflame,
Late seems better than never to brew
Leaving potion, heed siren's refrain
Options nascent foreseen in its train:
Goodbye APing crew and Adieu!

17 July 2008
robi03_1399_robi03_0000 AWX_IZX

see variations

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Unconscience

Sometimes Im dirty, sometimes Im clean
Sometime I talk in circles so I dont know what I mean
Although I am uncertain, one thing seems clear
I dont know very much, but Im still glad to be here
Because Ive got a conscience and hes got the same name
When it goes badly he gets the blame
When it goes good I get the acclaim
When I get hit he feels the pain
Werent you before me or were in the past
Youll have to excuse me, I didnt think that this was going to last
Well, I heard the road that spirals down
Has been paved with the best intentions that can be found
Ive got a conscience and hes got a name
When it goes badly he gets the blame
When it goes good I get the acclaim
When I get hit he feels the pain

song performed by 13 Engines
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faster

Chose a life in circuses
Jumped into the deepest end
Pushing himself to all extremes
Made it - people became his friend.
Now they stood and noticed him
Wanted to be part of it
Pulled out some poor machinery
So he worked til the pieces fit.
The people were intrigued
His wife held back her fears
The headlines gave acclaim
Hed realized their dreams.
Faster than a bullet from a gun
He is faster than everyone
Quicker than the blinking of an eye
Like a flash you could miss him going by
No one knows quite how he does it but its true they say
Hes the master of going faster.
Now he moved into the space
That the special people share
Right on the edge of do or die
Where there is nothing left to spare.
Still the crowds came pouring in
Some had hoped to see him fail
Filling their hearts with jealousies
Crazy people with love so frail.
The people were intrigued
His wife held back her fears
The headlines gave acclaim
Hed realized their dreams.
Faster than a bullet from a gun
He is faster than everyone
Quicker than the blinking of an eye
Like a flash you could miss him going by
No one knows quite how he does it but its true they say
Hes the master of going faster.
No need to wonder why
His wife held back her fears
So few have even tried
To realize their dreams.
Faster than a bullet . . . (repeat chorus)

song performed by George Harrison
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Id Be A Legend In My Time

Don gibson
If heartaches brought fame
In loves crazy game
Id be a legend in my time
If they gave gold statuettes
For tears and regrets
Id be a legend in my time
But they dont give awards
And theres no praise or fame
For a heart thats been broken
Over love thats in vain
If lonliness meant world acclaim
Everyone would know my name
Id be a legend in my time
If lonliness meant world acclaim
Everyone would know my name
Id be a legend in my time

song performed by Roy Orbison
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The Field of Waterloo

I.
Fair Brussels, thou art far behind,
Though, lingering on the morning wind,
We yet may hear the hour
Pealed over orchard and canal,
With voice prolonged and measured fall,
From proud St. Michael's tower;
Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us now,
Where the tall beeches' glossy bough
For many a league around,
With birch and darksome oak between,
Spreads deep and far a pathless screen,
Of tangled forest ground.
Stems planted close by stems defy
The adventurous foot-the curious eye
For access seeks in vain;
And the brown tapestry of leaves,
Strewed on the blighted ground, receives
Nor sun, nor air, nor rain.
No opening glade dawns on our way,
No streamlet, glancing to the ray,
Our woodland path has crossed;
And the straight causeway which we tread
Prolongs a line of dull arcade,
Unvarying through the unvaried shade
Until in distance lost.

II.
A brighter, livelier scene succeeds;
In groups the scattering wood recedes,
Hedge-rows, and huts, and sunny meads,
And corn-fields glance between;
The peasant, at his labour blithe,
Plies the hooked staff and shortened scythe:-
But when these ears were green,
Placed close within destruction's scope,
Full little was that rustic's hope
Their ripening to have seen!
And, lo, a hamlet and its fane:-
Let not the gazer with disdain
Their architecture view;
For yonder rude ungraceful shrine,
And disproportioned spire, are thine,
Immortal WATERLOO!

III.
Fear not the heat, though full and high
The sun has scorched the autumn sky,
And scarce a forest straggler now
To shade us spreads a greenwood bough;

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Black Virgin

One in thy thousand statues we salute thee
On all thy thousand thrones acclaim and claim
Who walk in forest of thy forms and faces
Walk in a forest calling on one name
And, most of all, how this thing may be so
Who know thee not are mystified to know
That one cries "Here she stands" and one cries "Yonder"
And thou wert home in heaven long ago.

Burn deep in Bethlehem in the golden shadows,
Ride above Rome upon the horns of stone,
From low Lancastrian or South Saxon shelters
Watch through dark years the dower that was shine own:
Ghost of our land, White Lady of Walsinghame,
Shall they not live that call upon thy name
If an old song on a wild wind be blowing
Crying of the holy country whence they came?

Root deep in Chartres the roses blown of glass
Burning above thee in the high vitrailles,
On Cornish crags take for salute of swords
O'er peacock seas the far salute of sails,
Glooming in bronze or gay in painted wood,
A great doll given when the child is good,
Save that She gave the Child who gave the doll,
In whom all dolls are dreams of motherhood.

I have found thee like a little shepherdess
Gay with green ribbons; and passed on to find
Michael called Angel hew the Mother of God
Like one who fills a mountain with a mind:
Molten in silver or gold or garbed in blue,
Or garbed in red where the inner robe burns through,
Of the King's daughter glorious within:
Change shine unchanging light with every hue.

Clothed with the sun or standing on the moon
Crowned with the stars or single, a morning star,
Sunlight and moonlight are thy luminous shadows,
Starlight and twilight thy refractions are,
Lights and half-lights and all lights turn about thee,
But though we dazed can neither see nor doubt thee,
Something remains. Nor can man live without it
Nor can man find it bearable without thee.

There runs a dark thread through the tapestries
That time has woven with all the tints of time
Something not evil but grotesque and groping,
Something not clear; not final; not sublime;
Quaint as dim pattern of primal plant or tree

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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How the Melbourne Cup was Won

In the beams of a beautiful day,
Made soft by a breeze from the sea,
The horses were started away,
The fleet-footed thirty and three;
Where beauty, with shining attire,
Shed more than a noon on the land,
Like spirits of thunder and fire
They flashed by the fence and the stand.
And the mouths of pale thousands were hushed
When Somnus, a marvel of strength,
Past Bowes like a sudden wind rushed,
And led the bay colt by a length;
But a chestnut came galloping through,
And, down where the river-tide steals,
O’Brien, on brave Waterloo,
Dashed up to the big horse’s heels.

But Cracknell still kept to the fore,
And first by the water bend wheeled,
When a cry from the stand, and a roar
Ran over green furlongs of field;
Far out by the back of the course —
A demon of muscle and pluck —
Flashed onward the favourite horse,
With his hoofs flaming clear of the ruck.

But the wonderful Queenslander came,
And the thundering leaders were three;
And a ring, and a roll of acclaim,
Went out, like a surge of the sea:
“An Epigram! Epigram wins!” —
“The Colt of the Derby” — “The bay!”
But back where the crescent begins
The favourite melted away.

And the marvel that came from the North,
With another, was heavily thrown;
And here at the turning flashed forth
To the front a surprising unknown;
By shed and by paddock and gate
The strange, the magnificent black,
Led Darebin a length in the straight,
With thirty and one at his back.

But the Derby colt tired at the rails,
And Ivory’s marvellous bay
Passed Burton, O’Brien, and Hales,
As fleet as a flash of the day.
But Gough on the African star
Came clear in the front of his “field”,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Kendall
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Sakthi

Justice of morals, armoured of valour
Ardent She the gracious gem
Frail our woes like ignascent cotton
Afire at Her anguish gaze
Vanquished of hate, hostility and enmity
O' people whole of globe
Acclaim surrendered surrendered acclaim
SakthiOm sakthi om Sakthi om

Good and evil powers all Sakthi
Bestower yet plenty of boons
'Vanquished evil be o'er seven worlds'
Boom, boom o'Murase
'Sourceful power solely here behold'
So say, whoever they
Sanctified and salvaged to the Heaven
Om Sakthi om Sakthi om

Best but to trust is the way just best
This day we confide in
Pray, you chant Sakthi forever
I bow to you then my heart
Wary, torrid archery, poison, malady
Needless be afraid of
For everyone is rescued at Her feet
Om Sakthi om Sakthi om

O'Benefactress of rains and lushness
Praises we sing
Mother Parasakthi, hail and herald we
Weeding out our obstacles
Keep up your words o'heart
Pray, nothing else
More we now pursue
SakthiOm Sakthi om Sakthi om

Mounted on white lily crowned is a persona
Heart of the vedas
Pristine, cultured tamil Vaani, to you
Here's a plea from me
Not a second should go useless
That in my sppech
Outpour in force
Sakthi omSakthi om, Sakthi om

Translation of Subramanya Bharathiar's song 'Nenjukku needhiyum, tholukku vaalum niraindha sudar manipoon....' and this my first attempt on translating a poem

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Rondo Mirror

When tidal waves of Time mock Fame,
have waved goodbye to humankind,
what which remains may, deep in rime,
deep-frozen stay until Change find
strange species with an unknown name,
whose mores no human finds sublime,
set out, new universes tame.

Alternative galactic clime
through nova warming – fun to blame -
could broil life first, then through enzyme
bacterial pride's self-acclaim
convert to carbon, methane, slime,
a vision choice, or hell-fire flame
devour the oddest pantomime
star systems witnessed, ‘sense’ proclaim.

A strange physique, another mind,
may race, chase universal prime,
act out perceived need, trace seed chain,
from ocean brine could start the grind
of evolution once again.

Survival’s rules and Nature’s game,
to change stay subject, rise or wane
as specificities within
a given eco-system kin
divide from kith through chance dance train
which tunnels out where Time once in
might delve and dig in search as sane
for A to B too toxic must remain.
'Above', 'Below' are judgements vain,
when all's one, one all must contain.

There seems no reason to explain
that rigid rules in one place gain
no standing elsewhere - truth's refrain
sounds normal here, there cries 'refrain! '
Life's laws, whatever form or frame,
appear designed to change sustain:
tenacity's successful climb
prepares ambitions which may bind
transient sentience to time -
tied to tide system whence it came.

The wheel turns, yet things much the same
remain as ever, as the blind
and seething masses, biding time,
exploited still, will try to find
answers until fresh tidal time-frame

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Distraction

Distraction

I felt as tho I was going crazy.
Speaking to all and doing my  work as needed but life seamed  like it was falling on me from above like it blocked out my sight to see and receive instantly. I'm being hit like never before a distraction to stop me from walking right out of thee  old an into  something new. So I learned in the process to jump high like never before to  move in away that one needed to move and that is swiftly until a break happens for me!

poem by Clarence Williams
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Peruvian Tales: Cora, Tale VI

The troops of ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO meet on the plain of CUZCO --. MANCO -CAPAC attacks them by nights--His army is defeated, and he is forced to fly with its scattered remains--CORA goes in search of him-- Her infant in her arms--Overcome with fatigue, she rests at the foot of a mountain--An earthquake--A band of Indians fly to the mountain for shelter--CORA discovers her husband--Their interview--Her death --He escapes with his infant--ALMAGRO claims a share of the spoils of Cuzco--His contention with PIZARRO --The Spaniards destroy each other--ALMAGRO is taken prisoner, and put to death--His soldiers, in revenge, assassinate PIZARRO in his palace--LAS CASAS dies--The annual festival of the PERUVIANS --Their victories over the Spaniards in Chili--A wish for the restoration of their liberty--Conclusion.

At length ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO'S train,
Each peril past, unite on Cuzco's plain;
CAPAC resolves beneath the shroud of night
To pierce the hostile camp, and brave the fight;
Though weak the wrong'd PERUVIANS ' arrowy showers
To the dire weapons stern IBERIA pours,
Fierce was th' unequal contest, for the soul,
When rais'd by some high passion's strong controul,
New strings the nerves, and o'er the glowing frame
Breathes the warm spirit of heroic flame.
But from the scene where raging slaughter burns,
The timid muse with silent horror turns;
The blended sounds of grief she panting hears,
Where anguish dims a mother's eye with tears;
Or where the maid, who gave to love's soft power
Her faithful spirit, weeps the parting hour;
And O, till death shall ease the tender woe,
That soul must languish, and those tears must flow;
For never with the thrill that rapture proves,
Her voice again shall hail the youth she loves!
Her earnest eye no more his form shall view,
Her quiv'ring lip has breath'd the last adieu!
Now night, that pour'd upon the hollow gale
The din of battle, dropp'd her mournful veil.
The sun rose lovely from the sleeping flood,
And morning glitter'd o'er the field of blood;
Where, bath'd in gore, PERUVIA'S vanquish'd train
Lay cold and senseless on the sanguine plain.
The gen'rous CAPAC saw his warriors yield,
And fled indignant from the conquer'd field.
A wretched throng from Cuzco now repair,
Who tread 'mid slaughter'd heaps in mute despair;
O'er some lov'd corse the shroud of earth to spread,
And breathe some ritual that may soothe the dead.
No moan was heard, for agony supprest
The fond complaints which ease the swelling breast;
Each hope for ever lost, they only crave
The deep repose that wraps the shelt'ring grave:--
So the meek lama, lur'd by some decoy
Of man, from all his unembitter'd joy,
Erewhile as free as roves the wand'ring breeze,
Meets the hard burden on his bending knees;
O'er rocks and mountains, dark and waste he goes,
Nor shuns the path where no fresh herbage grows;
Till, worn with toil, on earth he prostrate lies,
Heeds not the barb'rous lash, and scornful dies.
Swift o'er the field of death sad CORA flew,

[...] Read more

poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Distraction

Distraction
~
My attention wanders
Leaving me unable to concentrate
To focus on any given task
Pages half littered in words
Fail to bring any poem forth
I look to the window
To music or any distraction
Escape is evasive
The mind frustrated
Love is calming
I'll write about love
But love is mysterious
I lack the necessary strength
To sit and write about it
My levels of attention
Fail to complete this

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 3.

SCENE I.-- Adam and Eve.

Oh, my beloved companion!
Oh thou of my existence,
The very heart and soul!
Hast thou, with such excess of tender haste,
With ceaseless pilgrimage,
To find again thy Adam,
Thus solitary wandered?
Behold him! Speak! what are thy gentle orders?
Why dost thou pause? what ask of God? what dost thou?

Eve. Adam, my best beloved!
My guardian and my guide!
Thou source of all my comfort, all my joy!
Thee, thee alone I wish,
And in these pleasing shades
Thee only have I sought.

Adam. Since thou hast called thy Adam,
(Most beautiful companion),
The source and happy fountain of thy joy;
Eve, if to walk with me
It now may please thee, I will show thee love,
A sight thou hast not seen;
A sight so lovely, that in wonder thou
Wilt arch thy graceful brow.
Look thou, my gentle bride, towards that path,
Of this so intricate and verdant grove,
Where sit the birds embowered;
Just there, where now, with soft and snowy plumes,
Two social doves have spread their wings for flight,
Just there, thou shalt behold, (oh pleasing wonder),
Springing amid the flowers,
A living stream, that with a winding course
Flies rapidly away;
And as it flies, allures
And tempts you to exclaim, sweet river, stay!
Hence eager in pursuit
You follow, and the stream, as it it had
Desire to sport with you,
Through many a florid, many a grassy way,
Well known to him, in soft concealment flies:
But when at length he hears,
You are afflicted to have lost his sight,
He rears his watery locks, and seems to say,
Gay with a gurgling smile,
'Follow! ah, follow still my placid course!
If thou art pleased with me, with thee I sport.
And thus with sweet deceit he leads you on

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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The Sorcerer: Act I

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards--His Son

Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

Aline, Her Daughter--betrothed to Alexis

Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

Constance, her Daughter

Chorus of Villagers

ACT I -- Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day

SCENE -- Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.

CHORUS OF VILLAGERS

Ring forth, ye bells,
With clarion sound--
Forget your knells,
For joys abound.
Forget your notes
Of mournful lay,
And from your throats
Pour joy to-day.

For to-day young Alexis--young Alexis Pointdextre
Is betrothed to Aline--to Aline Sangazure,
And that pride of his sex is--of his sex is to be next her
At the feast on the green--on the green, oh, be sure!

Ring forth, ye bells etc.
(Exeunt the men into house.)

(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

RECITATIVE

MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Arrow Through Me

Ooh, baby, you couldnt have done a worse thing to me
If youda taken an arrow and run it right through me. ooh.
Ooh baby, a bird in the hand is worth two flyin
But when it came to love, Id knew youd be lyin.
It could have been a finer thing,
Would have been a major attraction
With no other thing: offering a note of distraction.
Come on, get up, get under way, bring your love.
Ooh baby, you wouldnt have found a more down hero
If youda started at nothing and counted to ze-e-ro.
Oo-oo-oo.
Ooh baby, you couldnt have done a worse thing to me
If youda taken an arrow and run it right through me.
It could have been a finer thing
Would have been amajor attraction
If no other thing than offering a no love distraction
Come on, get up, get under way, bring your love.
Ooh baby, you wouldnt have found a more down hero
If youda started at nothing and counted the ze-e-ro.

song performed by Paul McCartney
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Don't Play Too Hard To Get

When the power of attraction comes,
Don't run.
Let that attraction be a distraction,
Before the spark of it begins to dim...
And the affect of it has gone,
To another one....
Waiting to welcome it,
With a smile bright as the Sun!

Don't play too hard to get.
I did it.
And I was not benefitted.

Because I thought I was all that,
And a box of crackerjacks.

Don't play too hard to get.
I did it.
And I was not benefitted.

Because I thought I was all that,
And a box of crackerjacks.

When the power of attraction comes,
Don't run.
Let that attraction be a distraction,
Before the spark of it begins to dim...
And the affect of it has gone,
To another one....
Waiting to welcome it,
With a smile bright as the Sun!

Don't play too hard to get.
I did it.
And I was not benefitted.

Because I thought I was all that,
And a box of crackerjacks.

Don't play too hard to get.
I did it.
And I was not benefitted.

Because I thought I was all that,
And a box of crackerjacks.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Window

I view television as a window into the world which I have come to hate
I view the silence when it's off as something to appreciate
Despite advances in multiple fields of entertainment this beast persists
The brain-rotting glow cube substituting denominator for greatness

Somehow I don't hate this beast
But I'd like to see somebody slay it
With the right line come out and SAY IT
Watch it disappear as quickly as it came
That'll take about fifty years then.

How can you love a distraction that is fractured with distraction?
How can you tolerate a program broken apart by ad fragments?
Why is your brain such a dull and listless tool?
Did you willingly tune it to a channel less cruel?

A window lets light in, and lets home truths out.
This one lets light out, and when off, reflects light back.
It seems to be a joyful giver
But for all the beams it radiates
The thing it takes from us is much more valuable
I would say dear
But if you've lost it you don't realise it
Then it's long gone.

Television the joyful giver.
Television the soul and sole deciever.

poem by Gary Diamond
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