Post by Lunar Knite on Oct 5, 2008 19:42:01 GMT -5
The black box, so sacred to our culture,
Discarded with every new advancement,
Lies forlorn in the mixture
Of obsoletes, broken against the pavement.
The glass screen, cracked and chipped,
Denied of its only function;
So long has it been since it was shipped,
‘Twixt the real and virtual exists no connection.
The moving pictures shall move no more,
Nor shall its speakers produce any sound,
Nor shall it relieve those who are bored,
Crushed, at the bottom of the mound.
Yet it still retains a purposeful life
For among the tubes and wires is a home
Easing an existence of strife.
For a rat, this could be a piece of Rome.
Discarded with every new advancement,
Lies forlorn in the mixture
Of obsoletes, broken against the pavement.
The glass screen, cracked and chipped,
Denied of its only function;
So long has it been since it was shipped,
‘Twixt the real and virtual exists no connection.
The moving pictures shall move no more,
Nor shall its speakers produce any sound,
Nor shall it relieve those who are bored,
Crushed, at the bottom of the mound.
Yet it still retains a purposeful life
For among the tubes and wires is a home
Easing an existence of strife.
For a rat, this could be a piece of Rome.
