Tuesday, October 26, 2004

The tears from the steady glow and the empty souls


The tears flow from the glow of the television,
Generations raised by artificial families,
By neighbors who don’t exist,
By families who are just an after-image,
Smiles everywhere,
Selling happiness,
Selling dreams,
But the happiness is as artificial as their electrode glow,
A society with no real contact,
The only contact is with the pushers of a million creams and a million cars,
But below the surface are just empty promises,
And when one not bathing in the neon plastic reality,
Asks why others watch,
The isolated people stand aghast,
Nothing preparing them for the idea,
That there is a world past their isolation,
A world past their screens,
The world that is supposed to fill them with life,
With people who always have a witty punch line,
Or the product that solves all of their problems,
Yet it doesn’t fill them with happiness for their newfound friends,
A different group of friends for the different seasons,
They gain the glow,
And lose their reality in their isolation.

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