Broadcast
This one likes a quiet place
To close his eyes and pray
To plead and to praise
And send thoughts from
Deep within the soul
To a place of belief
And faith
This one likes confession
Selfishness, then submission
To be led and told
Just what he must say
To preserve his soul
And keep eternal judgement
At bay
This one likes to reflect
Look in the mirror there
Gaze at the inner self
Find a new meaning
Behind the eyes, a soul
A universe and more
And all
This one likes to be watched
And wonders how we ever survived
Before YouTube and blog
Voyeurs and video response
The connected soul
In a world detached
And alone
This one likes to scream
At the sun and the moon
And anyone who wanders by
Wanting recognition
There really is a soul
And if the volume’s right
You’ll know
This one likes to immerse
In confusion and noise
Frantic images, flashing lights
A frenetic, pulsing beat
A frenzied, fractured soul
Fantasising disorientation
As peace
This one likes to take stock
To sit back and observe
To notice and so evolve
Yet rarely be involved
Hoping that the soul
By learned association
Will grow
This one likes his pen to speak
Organising into category
Wayward ideas with
Tight little letters, syllables
That represent his soul
In an abstract, or essay
Or verse
August 2008 Derek Wilson
