The Reality Show
by Nevada Kerr

Here comes the dark exposure laid bare on heaven's throne
A publicly owned Christ dresses like your wife at home
The perfect tv host unveils a misfit mary cleansed for jail
And the Devils in her hind toes moving up her tail

All the dead net shoppers don't know they are ghosts
They're plugged into the wires though they died long ago
A girl mother adores teaching torture on the reality show
The baby inside her belly doesn't want to grow

The Nazi son of a vagrant guru disowns another God
Deficits in his soul account leave holes in his dead seed pod
The queer child he thrashed and squirmed to touch
The flesh he tore from his face revealed nothing of his love

I can't return your despair or ever feel the untruth you bear
You live inside my telly beside the spunk and dung
On the reality show celebrity dames merge with your private shames
Joined at the hips and fingered lips they never slip your tongue

I could be the quiet plague curse you savagely unmuzzle
But zombies inside the streaming sitcom will never solve this puzzle
The monsters in your bed grow wings on my tv screen
You're all I wished for despite the real time screams

The wonder drug in my wonder bread cures my ailing pets
Words from sponsors on public posters increase my dwindling debts
No more fads to feed my dread when all the ad-men are dead
It's only one antidote to the reality show that plays inside my head

Written by © Nevada Kerr
26th July 2001.