Televisio-empiricism

[TranquillityBase]

The sky is blue, but so what?
Colors that matter soak the screen
rewarding this pale retainer
with eyes infused with delight.

Me?  I’m just one big pump
keeping up the flow of blood and lymph
to savor creature comforts 
in hygienic peace; it’s the brain
That circulates the electric dream
shoving aside wandering thoughts,
my head bowed down like a bull
whose skull is a solid rapture.

Pleasure without effort,
everything outside this holy view
is just distraction from the worship
of another’s gods and monsters.

I'm just one big pump
keeping up the flow of blood and lymph
to savor creature comforts in hygienic peace;
brain pumps out its electric stream
shoving aside foreign pulses
head down like a bull
whose skull is a solid rapture.

The sky is blue, but so what?
Colors that matter soak the TV screen
rewarding its pale circle of retainers
with eyes infected with delight.
The rest of the body is dross,
manna for supervisors and artificial environments.
Eyes arouse us, make us glad.

Crackling of glass and wire
signal our empire.  Against barbaric night
we summon up our flourescent legions.
Syndicated Caesars lead their triumphs
across a field of photo-sensitive dots
inhabiting at our digital command
an encapsulated Colosseum.
A circus of heroes, blood and speech,
their bodies, drained of blood and black and white, 
is a bread that turns to paper in our bowels.

It's time to prime the pump again.