Ramble In Airwaves Poem by Alistair Plint

Dumped the television
only six months
back
It was filling my mind
with scripts
that should be
on the junk heap
in debris

I stroll into work
every morning
filling my throat with caffeine
listening
to the office
chatter
In wonder
of something new
to converse about

Alas that's wishful thinking

Seems the IQ in this place
spans as far as
Dexter
The humour is as ripe
as Two and Half Men
and they're lead to believe
CSI is a true story

I imagine
the evening routine
includes
slapping any thought of
an ingredient
on a plate
They're probably lucky if it's
cooked
Fall to the room, with the view
discuss nothing
while they watch some
overpaid
overfed
nobody
tell them
how they should have
manufactured it

I wonder if they've
realised
their kids have grown
or if they're still communicating
in words like
"gaga"

while hours that mount to days
are spent
feeding
minds
with a digital delay
and little of value to say


[.]