The End of my Soul on Saturday Nights

I hate the way TV personalities

stare at me

from the screen

like they know me

like they wanna talk or

hold my hand

or reach in and

rub my heart


the way they fucking


from their perfect

made-up flesh


they say ‘I am this


you want to be me

to know me

to look like me

come this way and I’ll

show you

a thousand pounds and

a holiday for two’


and as the audience laughs

coz it’s told to

as the show’s jingle plays


as wars go on and

leaders climb and crumble


as death exists


like a game show host

but with

better hair and

a dirtier grin


they don’t know

who the fuck they’re

talking to


if they did


never talk this way



so I turn over

and think:


the stars are

too complex to

ever fathom


so don't try to

◄ After All The Fucking Shit Has Already Fucking Hit You

when that daylight hit us again (inspired by Gareth Writer-Davies' Junk poem) ►


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Donna Marie Beck

Sun 27th Mar 2011 10:23

TV is brain washing but least your aware of it.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 26th Mar 2011 17:56

Excellently put with 'pith and vinegah'.

There have been other poems on this idea. It might make a good subject for a shared 'theme'.

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melanie coady

Fri 25th Mar 2011 20:15

sooo true! xx

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Tom Harding

Thu 24th Mar 2011 23:42

I know this feeling.

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