Welcome to Videodrome;
A life is played out on magnetic tape,
Reality lies beyond that screen.
From where we sit and watch
Looking down a tube,
Our imagination projects us into the film.
Draw the curtains, shut out the sun,
Let in the darkness of your mind
There’s a story waiting in a black box,
Ready to unfold;
It’ll blow your fucking brains!
A horror show disguised with make-up,
Some very dodgy dialogue
And buckets and buckets of blood.
Of course there was sex, isn’t there always?
Raising its ugly head,
Just as some fair maiden thought
She’d got away with her innocence;
He was waiting for her…………
The guns never run out of bullets
Until it’s time for someone to die;
A glamorous and tragic ending;
To a man who was a complete bastard,
And really had it coming to him.
But somehow you can’t help
But see the hero in some asshole,
As he breathes his last.
PLAYBACK is switched inside a head,
That hasn’t yet distinguished
The real world from celluloid:
If it all goes wrong, just rewind,
Make the scene again, take 1,2,3,
As he pulls the trigger, and they fall,
A kind of reality begins to dawn;
Until suddenly somewhere, someone,
Switches him off.
Written after someone went on a killing spree, shooting indiscriminately at people, in a quiet town in England some years ago. I wondered about their grasp on reality and their motivation for doing it. Unfortunately it has just happened again recently.
Published in Peer Poetry, April 1997.