"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,
Local TV station-

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 are 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?

"All The Noise"

Web sites-

A cat's curiosity
At the mad state
Of the world-

And also
Great dismay.

And the precise nature
Of what you mean-
When you say,
You long for
The dawning
Of a brand-new day:

But maybe
You can't even put it
Into words
To explain?

So you
Just shake your head,
And walk away-
Into the gathering darkness
Of the night:

Disappearing down
Some lonely street...

And it's quiet.

"Neo-Nutritionists Saying"

Neo-nutritionists saying,
"Up the department,"
And doing exercises-
Almost as if they're
Standing on their heads
At the Bronx Zoo-

Never been there-

But as could be pointed out,
Even if you haven't got a clue
As to what I'm talking about-

Some might say,
The zookeepers themselves
Would go- "Shoo, shoo."

Yet they also no doubt believe
They must receive balanced
Nutritious food...

As I'm sitting here,
Listening and watching
All of this on a plasma TV screen-

Makes me wonder
What they're all on-

And that woman's eyes,
Are they aquamarine?

The most beautiful eyes
I've ever seen.

"The Notion That-"

The notion that
Merely to sit
And brood,
Can be-

And for many is,

Or to be
The world master
Of the cynical-

And not even to give a kick-

Against the cobwebs.

Is the notion that-

In every such emotion that-

'Tis true.

"The Proper Respect"

Every survey
Of ancient history
And tradition-

And the continued interest
In the physical remains
Of long dead Egyptians:


With the deciphering
Of the Rosetta stone...

And though
It's not as if
There's anything
Wrong with reading
And studying
The writings
On tombs
And temples-

It does make you wonder,
When it comes to
These same ancient Egyptians-

If sometimes
They wouldn't mind
Very much-

At least for a while,
Just to find themselves
Being left alone?

That is-

When you consider
The endlessly disturbing
Of their peaceful slumber,
After having been asleep
For so very long?

Though I'll admit
To as much curiosity
As anyone else-

I can't deny-

But that it is fascinating...

Yet I think
There is also such a thing
As making a point
Of simply knowing when
To show the proper respect.

"Spy Prototype Robot Girl, Number 5"

Her mental contents,
And delivery-

She's usually
As nice as she can be-

And her beauty
Makes me think of
All these various activities...

She's spy prototype robot girl, number 5.

She's got lasers in her eyes.

She's very specialized.

Don't know
How many more
They'll make of her-

But upon all missions
She's assigned
To come along with me on-

She's always quite a surprise:

She's the latest in advanced-
Espionage technology,
In this year of 2175.

She's spy prototype robot girl, number 5.

And she's much improved
Over numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4-

It's almost as if she's actually alive-

She has a learning program,
As well as a total range of
Downloaded emotions-

Even going as far as telling you-
She'll kill you, if you ever make her cry:

Giving you fair warning,
I suppose-

That she is after all:

Spy prototype robot girl, number 5.

From blog: "Lyric4Verse" http://lyric4verse.blogspot.com

© Rex Cox