The Devil's Television

Television was a splendid new machine,
All shiny and bright and cleverly made.
What a splendid thing to sell one's soul to the devil,
And have a television just for one’s own self.

You stood staring at the villain of the screen.
On and on the Devil whispered terrible things,
'When you have finished your television you may buy another.'
'Perhaps some evening, friend,' said the Devil, 'If time is what you want.’

You and yours will stumble in despair upon the TV.
Endless hours of a ghastly horror show.
And on your own machine you'll laugh and scream,
Innocents tortured by a fiend, a demon, a monster, a ghoul,
And then you too will sell your soul to the Devil.

     
Copyright © 2021 Poetry of the Machine

This is AI generated poetry.