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The Original Video Game

Trent Morris

Thursday, May 15th, 2014

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The Watcher, urging, purging
protests meant to bend the ether,
running permutations from experience,
but neither Player nor the rays of light perceived
are in control,
impossible to get it right,
but both still hold and hope
that they can cope
with what the fourth dimension
and a bit of fate
might have in mind,
at least until half-time,
to get to the next level,
or stay here, as King, or Queen,
or Devil, and the screen
is always different
and it always stays the same.
After all, is this not football,
the original video game?

© Trent Morris 2014

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-original-video-game/