Veggie Box


Television does exist,
So there will for mills be grist,
For if capitalists are to thrive,
They must for profits strive,
And TV's widescreen face,
Keeps workers in their place.
For living now in Tellyland,
A place to some quite bland,
Workers find varieties,
In far away societies,
Because writers give the people there,
A certain kind of flair.
So on a Sydney beach,
Adolescents screech,
And in a pub in the East End,
Life people try to comprehend,
Or maybe somewhere in America,
There is of a desire a replica.
And these societies they are kind,
As in them viewers find,
No demands are made,
So they don't have to trade,
They just sit and take,
And in nothing real partake.
Plus characters, scripts say must be nice,
And even if they have a vice,
That vice must attract,
So it does not from nice subtract,
As viewers will avoid,
That which of niceness is devoid.
But when the mixture's right,
It has a pleasant sight,
And when their souls pretenders bare,
They the viewers do excite,
And stop them taking flight.
But business fare,
Is the worth of a share,
And so if workers will the jobs not do,
Profits will be few,
Though when a worker's mind is blank,
Capitalists can money bank.
So as workers do the morning sunshine drink,
They of its beauties will not think,
As they know,
It's to work that they must go,
To face another day of toil,
Which their spirits will despoil.
But when the work is done,
And they can the workplace shun,
They will run to that zone,
They call home,
So they their remote can take in hand,
And go again to Tellyland.

---April 17, 2007---

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