A book committed suicide!
Wherever a TV glows there sits someone who ain’t reading;
Daresay!
The mercurial brainchild:
Idiot box, metamorphosed,
Pate to inanimate being;
Darn right!
Ambitious to hop a notch up the Social tree
Humanity watches TeeVee!
Portraiture of quotidian sights and scenes
Stay put, glued to the telly,
Grow a bulgy belly,
‘O cacophony: Goddess of jazz, and of quarrels,
Ahoy!
The volume turned up a flock of notches high!
Beating like a toy drum,
Dunk into the Sea of ignorance,
Transient stagnate clogged faculty;
Incidentally sans novelty ;
By dint of imagination,
Joyous understanding,
Inexhaustible exercise of brain
which is like a muscle,
Yanking the right thread,
From an entanglement,
And make it undone.
Cacophony of the day is unbearable!
Says the muscle
Papier-mâché,
Optical illusion
Noisy disorder and confusion; commotion;
Audible silence ‘twas your last vigil into the wheel of mutating time,
Quietude but lasts awhile:
Usurping the hours of the night well nigh
Desirable – remarked the weeping candle;
Everyone finds repose in sleep at night
Sleep from the eyes takes a flight;
Times change and we change with them.
Watching my befuddled somnolence
Being a scapegoat
A book found solace.
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