The Truman Show Poem by Denis Martindale

See his life in Panavision,
From Kodak to the screen!
His creator's lifelong mission
To track where Truman's been!
Observe the awesome obstacles,
Preventing his escape,
A Matrix world of miracles,
The experts play from tape...

Thus Truman as an unborn child
Gets spied on from the start,
So TV fans can stare beguiled
At his fast beating heart
And ooh and ah at such a sight,
Transfixed for decades hence,
As Truman's born, they squeal delight,
As if they're all his friends!

He goes to school, he learns, he leaves,
He works, then finds a wife,
His long lost father he still grieves,
Yet overcomes each strife...
But then the cracks appear at last,
He knows his world's a scam,
That's why he stares back all aghast,
At every secret cam...

Then he defies the great machine,
The trickster on all sides,
With random acts to intervene
To learn what overrides...
Then Truman hides and panic rules,
The cameras show no trace,
The TV crew then search like fools,
Yes, every single place!

The harbour cameras find their man,
He's headed out to sea,
Despite his fear, he's got a plan,
Still striving to be free!
The storm attacks his sailing boat
And overboard he flies,
Yet he survives, enough to gloat,
Till he sees calm blue skies...

The exit's there, each step he climbs,
To leave must be his choice,
Then his creator picks his times
And Truman hears his voice...
No, you can't leave, the voice declares,
You're way too scared for that!
But Truman answers all man's prayers
And turns the voice down flat!

Goodbye! He said, in his farewell,
With almost veiled contempt
And yet like saying, Go to Hell!
With his bad dream all dreamt...
Though TV fans could cheer him on,
Perhaps true love to find,
Our hero's shining light has shone
And gone, but never mind...

Another victim's on the way,
For viewers to enjoy!
I'm truly glad that I can say,
It's not my little boy...