Saturday, August 15, 2009

"TV Channel 9- Circa 2086"

Don't need to say,
Channel 9-
Channel 9-

Or slither through
Some old curious
Bound volumes
Of broadcast time...

An abandoned,
Decaying,
Local TV station-

Inside,
The sets covered in cobwebs and dust:

With the long dead,
Local TV personalities-

Off and separated far away,
Crumbling in their graves:

And the old TV cameras
That once displayed them,
Are standing still-

Covered in various molds,
And eaten up with rust...

But who knows?

Maybe there's spook voices
In the place late at night-

With floating,
Flickering images
Of long ago local happenings:

And the news...!

And even the now spectral,
But still incessant giggling
Of the long dead
Local little weather girl too?

But even as we leave it to fade out
To the late acid rock strains
Of E. L. O.'s now considered ancient-

"Bluebird is Dead"

Just keep it in mind-

Don't need to say,
Channel 9-
Channel 9-

No, for I've always heard
It's better if you say it three times!

Channel 9?

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