I tried to make an existential moment out of a late-night channel surfing. From the comments I've gotten on this poem, I think it wasn't too effective.
Late Night Television
Flashes of white within black,
And Hank Hill fades onto screen.
A mortal man, a beacon of light
During the hour of twilight
In the empty zone.
A man boards his flight,
And sits into his seat.
With a glance out the window,
Out to the brink of the wings
He sees the Gremlin gazing
Into his abyss, grinning.
“Oh god,” he said
As he sinks into his seat,
Despairing what will come.
We’ll throw in a second set,
If you take the Almighty Lord
As your savior
Order now!
Before your time is up.
The wire then goes through
The cogs of machinery,
Where it is bent according
To the will of its machinator,
And then the Soviets were the first
To find a concentration camp,
Full of hollow people
Alive and dead.
Life is one of the unique features
Of Earth. There are uncountable
Amount of life, from the depth of sea
To highest peak of mountains.
And they are static.
Random grey spots.
Has no pattern save for
What we imagine after
Staring at it for too long.
Below, there were flickers of lights,
From the batteries, raining upon us.
Airplanes dropping like meteors,
Toward the darkness under us.
The red light flittered to green.
And it was time. It was time
To jump into the vast abyss
Under us
Dreams.
There are many theories
On how one should interpret
Those.
But to keep it simple,
Nobody knows what
It might or might not be.
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