The Box (Rachel Perry - Lafayette, LA)

“Did you think to switch on the box last night?

Did you get a chance to witness what went on?

The monkey eating crackers, blessed by that poor nun

who right before was sued by her own father.

You didn't get to watch, you say?

Well boy did you miss out.

You couldn't take a minute break?”

to me my comrade questions.

“I suppose that I couldn't,” I answer a bit perturbed.

“Much too much to do within this world.”

Both the nun and monkey seem to me somewhat absurd,

but I'll not criticize the likes of others.

“You really should take note

of all the fun that you are missing,

neglecting the friendly dial

that adorns your TV.”

The rage within me grows

so much I scarcely can control it.

Were I a more violent person

One might need to be afraid.

“Don't you see its utter nonsense!

This great fun of which you speak.

It is taking life and

shrinking it to a  screen!”

My comrade backs off quickly,

His hands both forming sheilds.

“No need to get defensive.

I was only poking fun.”

I do my best to tolerate

the activities of the masses,

but perplexing will I always find

he power of these little boxes.

These little boxes that bring us drama

though our lives are far from simple.

They make us cry for unreal folks

while real folks outside are dying.

How do they prevail

With such an artificial spectrum?

The Earth provides amusement

for all five senses?

You steal my conversations, box,

by showing nuns with crackers.

I try to talk to people

but your screen pulls them away.

O you wretched box! You steal

the vigor of our children.

You shrivel the precious brains

That should be growing in their skulls.

If the choice were mine, I'd take you all

and place you in a capsule.

I'd tape it up and buy a shovel

to dig your secret grave.

See what audience you'd find there,

Box, what species you'd enslave.

I reckon you would take the worms

but at least I'd have freed my own.