deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Perfect Murder
The world is hungry and it's eating me alive
More More More
Buy Buy Buy
Statistically, the watchers are the casualties
Paperdolls cut out to be consumers
Hand in hand consuming each other
The brainwash in a box just tells us to lather, rinse, repeat
This Friday Friday Friday
Work until you're dead or you'll never get fed
Would the information go deeper with a bullet in their heads?
In TV land and on the Web where the most needy seem to be the ones who have,
Where they set the standard and all you have to do is reach the bar
Where their hands are always out, open-palmed and empty, tearing at your clothes so you will have to
Buy Buy Buy
More More More
Your stupid little smile lets you laugh the days away
Laugh so you forget
Laugh out loud but they'll never let you go
A prison built behind your eyes, electrified
A choke collar tethered to your empty and unsatisfied desires
A siren's song of moving pictures takes you far far away from the home you never recognized
The pressures of life disappear in the explosions and sordid sex appeal
All the drama and the comedy you could ever want to feel is still never enough
It's such a burden having free will that I don't want it anymore
I'd gladly give it up for another bullet to the head
Guidance is the only thing I ever asked for
But if it could only wait until the commercial break that would be perfect
Jaded by repetition and sales-pitch saturation
Build a life around the onslaught of sensationalized sensation
Tonight my favorite character saves the world!
The control to stop it all is just out of reach
But the never ending stimuli drowns out the want to see life where there is silence
If the noise were to disappear I might remember what I watch so hard to forget
Impossible expectations
Like a meteor wanting to make a postive and helpful impact
Maybe once I go to college I'll be up a link on the food chain, working to get fed
And I'll have someone else to boss around, with a bullet in their head
More More More
Buy Buy Buy
Statistically, the watchers are the casualties
Paperdolls cut out to be consumers
Hand in hand consuming each other
The brainwash in a box just tells us to lather, rinse, repeat
This Friday Friday Friday
Work until you're dead or you'll never get fed
Would the information go deeper with a bullet in their heads?
In TV land and on the Web where the most needy seem to be the ones who have,
Where they set the standard and all you have to do is reach the bar
Where their hands are always out, open-palmed and empty, tearing at your clothes so you will have to
Buy Buy Buy
More More More
Your stupid little smile lets you laugh the days away
Laugh so you forget
Laugh out loud but they'll never let you go
A prison built behind your eyes, electrified
A choke collar tethered to your empty and unsatisfied desires
A siren's song of moving pictures takes you far far away from the home you never recognized
The pressures of life disappear in the explosions and sordid sex appeal
All the drama and the comedy you could ever want to feel is still never enough
It's such a burden having free will that I don't want it anymore
I'd gladly give it up for another bullet to the head
Guidance is the only thing I ever asked for
But if it could only wait until the commercial break that would be perfect
Jaded by repetition and sales-pitch saturation
Build a life around the onslaught of sensationalized sensation
Tonight my favorite character saves the world!
The control to stop it all is just out of reach
But the never ending stimuli drowns out the want to see life where there is silence
If the noise were to disappear I might remember what I watch so hard to forget
Impossible expectations
Like a meteor wanting to make a postive and helpful impact
Maybe once I go to college I'll be up a link on the food chain, working to get fed
And I'll have someone else to boss around, with a bullet in their head
Published 3rd May 2010
| Edited 27th Aug 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Anonymous
9th May 2010 00:28am
Right now I don't feel like reading a poem more than once, but, when my mood changes, I think I'll be reading this one several times over. Your use of language is witty and creative, and your techniques original (I was about to say unique, but didn't want to rhyme; just thought you'd like to know). I would pick out the phrases I enjoyed in specific, but the lines here melt into, and simply ARE, each other so perfectly that I feel as though I cannot. However, I will point out that I enjoyed how you repeated certain words three times, as well as the final rhyming of "fed" and "head", which provided the most satisfying conclusion to this piece. A wonderful howl against society, and how our brain cells are slowly giving up when faced with the Stalin-esque onslaught of television.
