Poem -

Frequency

In old times I would have said, is the coast clear, who else is in here, can I come through or is something the matter with you. How many down, how many out, where there, out and about. Quiet and still or ebb and flow , both are the same you know. In a manner of speaking a repetitive broadcast. This language or frequency, both are the same you know. Who's reaching out for thee. Life was called life not so long ago.  Levels of danger now. In old times law's did not go through without a public vote...... connection.... Huh. How sick are the dead and dying. many are surviving. How much are they lieing. And at what frequency beamed into even into your  TV. 

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