Posts Tagged ‘ Media ’

Oh but it is


Residence of P.T. Barnum, by David W. Wilson

Residence of P.T. Barnum, by David W. Wilson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

if it were that easy —
Oh but it is

do you need a set of instructions?

If you think TV is there to inform you
<wrong answer>
Correct Answer: TV is there to distract you
and divert you from the Truth

you trust a talking head
but argue “issues”
with those you shared a classroom with
and maybe even your Mom
but the Tube said it were so
(depending on what flavor you’re addicted to)
so it must be True

Fuck experience!
your senses may lie to you
(especially if you took as much acid as I did in ’94)
but the TV never ever never ever lies
It’s rods and cones, they comfort me
and leadeth me by still waters purified by Calgon

P.T. Barnum was an optimist
a sucker ain’t born every minute
a sucker is born with every click of the remote

Distraction
Diversion
Deception
Misdirection

if that’s yer bag, dude, who am I to call you on it?
i mean an Ostrich might find treasure sticking its head in the Sand

but you know me,
well perhaps not,
I don’t buy from Infomercials
the costs of living with myself are far too high

and I’d rather believe the Rumors I make up
than any spread on a Useless Tube

 

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the story of Our Box Masters


master_RFM12B

master_RFM12B (Photo credit: fotoopa)

 

for a long time
there was no News.

We contented Ourselves
with sitting at Table,
eating, and sharing Stories
most nights

sometimes the Stories would come
to Us
sitting by the Fire
the Stories the Fire would tell Us

after a while,
the Boxes came
with their shiny lights
and Cathode Rays

and like Moths to the Flame
We huddled around the Boxes
warmed in the Glow

and the Stories began to recede

We contented Ourselves
in forgetting Our own Stories
and gathered around Water Coolers
retelling the stories of Our Box Masters
and laughing only
at the Similarity of Our Programming

Our Box Masters
grew tired of sitting in their heavy boxes
Station(ary)
and asked Us
to carry them around

at first
the Box Masters
We carried around and ’round
were quite cumbersome
so we made them smaller
cuter
more appealing

soon We were no longer huddled
like Moths around a Lamp
but fixed in fractal worlds of Babel-on
Our own

We ceased to Listen
to each others’ stories
could no longer make sense
of the Creature sitting next to us
and so it was

a trap well set by the Box Masters

 

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