Ann Foster Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

The Television

The Television

The beast, 
eats your heart out slowly, 
takes your soul away painlessly, 
and barely if at all
it is ever noticed by any. 

It growls lowly, quietly, 
and beats you into submission 
with loving notions of guilt
and the promise of safety
with the use of propaganda, 
and the illusion of truth, 
within the lies. 

Watch me, 
watch me... 
watch me...

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Linda Alice Fowler February 17, 2023 at 7:06 AM Isn't this the truth Ann!! Fabulous! :)

Line Gauthier January 12, 2023 at 7:02 AM Great message, Ann ~

Gershon Wolf January 11, 2023 at 7:40 PM Amen, sister... Threw mine out in 1978. Haven't missed the telly a bit either.

Vijay Pandit January 10, 2023 at 9:57 AM Well said, Ann. It's the face of many traits--we love to watch it, though.

Paul Bell January 10, 2023 at 9:03 AM It is amazing what the box does to you after a few years. You can see why they get thrown out of windows.