Radio Is The Enemy

Radio Is The Enemy


Although they may have once served a proper purpose
At present radio stations pander to popular opinion.
Singles are given airtime mainly to generate album sales.
Repeated ad nauseam at regularly timed intervals
An earworm can bore its way into anybody's brain.

If music were fruit, most listeners would never savor its core.
Instead they get stuck mulling over pulp and an alluring outer peel.
Not to mention abrasive ads that BLARE for our attention.
They've got it down pat to a covert science of coercion.
Flashy exteriors matched by nonexistent interiors.

Of course it'll have to do for critically impaired cubicle rats
Whom waste their days away like lowliest ants in a colony.
What was good for the gander will be repeated indefinitely at all hours
Until it becomes like Beethoven's 9th in A Clockwork Orange.
What is awful shall receive the star treatment too; no less!

Meanwhile, entire continents of choral gaiety go undiscovered.
Wonderful harmonies pipe up momentarily before drowning
Within a social milieu brought about via mean mediocrity.
Financial backing makes or breaks sound waves years before each freshly packaged frequency reaches our ears.
Even "Indie" gets co-opted as a niche market to generate profit.

In a roundabout way the arbiters of good taste ensure that radio effectively becomes ever more an enemy of the very music it pretends to promote!

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Tresfulgus

Tresfulgus

Noun (tray-full-guhs):

Somewhere between crystal dimensions
There roams a perfect behemoth of a beast.
Its real name is actually more like the sound of
Something heavy being submerged underwater.
And although there are many of them around
They are all essentially the same creature.

Its massive gray body ripples with raw sinew
Scored by black stripes along curves on its length.
It has a handsome face that's either man or woman
Depending on how one looks at it; asexual genotype,
Inorganic phenotype that absorbs decaying dark matter
While baring imposing breasts against storming skies.

Resembling certain Mediterranean bull deities
These gloss the banks of oblivion's river
In a valley where atavist tongues resound for eternity
And childhood is recalled by us passing through.
But make no mistake, though awesome to behold
Tresfulgi are not as noble as we might want to think.

No indeed, it appears rather as if said hulks represent
The dominant features of conqueror cultures
Which divest lesser beings of right livelihood:
Thrusting themselves into the affairs of others
Taking lots to give little except death in return.
May you and yours be spared such happenstance!

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