The anchor man sat, his eyes tired from sleepless nights. Everyday the same idea. He’d sit in-front of the camera and appear on the screen. No one likes the anchor man, yet everyone watches him.
You broadcast your shame for all of us to hear
You scribble it black and red all over these walls
Plastered on billboards and scrawled on your skin
You’re collecting all your tears in jars only to show them all to us
You need to prove your pain
You need someone to care
It only leaves us caring less
i heard the broadcast on a saturday.
the news of war
broadcast in blood.
i did not fall once.
i fell twice.
my second time corrupted me,
and brought my mother to her knee,
to ask the lord “i pray to thee:
please save my son, please let him be!”
you heard the broadcast on a sunday.
it was rainy and i was long gone.
Broadcast. I would broadcast out to the world how I felt about you, and you did nothing. You sat in silence and watched me suffer. Suffer a great deal of pain. Did you know? Did you know what you were doing to me as I faded away from the lightness that protected me from years? Don’t you see? Don’t you see what I am becoming?
broadcast television. Popular media? objective reporting is very difficult to find. Most stories are slanted in one way or another but in a pretty subtle way. It’s the graphics on the screen that influence conservative or liberal. From what I’ve noticed, the reporters usually do a fair job of just stating what happened. On most networks.
it was broadcast everywhere. the terrible, terrible voice, bearing awful news. war, it said, and she could picture the small moustache quivering with anger as he proclaimed this death sentence. she could see the rigid armed saluted of hundreds of murderous faces, and hundreds of black hearts shriveling slowly.
I knew I was listening to my daughter on the radio, as I finally recognized her voice. Why was she on there? I remembered when I was a kid, I’d call in to joke around with the talk-show broadcasters, but she wasn’t the type of girl to do that. And then I here the words come from her mouth, “I need to tell my parents about something that I’m really scared to do. I’m 14 years old, and I’m pregnant.”
I worked at the local fair over the summer, and one of the things that my concession stand was selling was unusual and got popular. It was talked about on social networking websites, and our stand manager was even broadcast on a local radio station. It was a really cool thing, and it was nice to see people so happy to see and buy the thing that was so talked about.
some things are meant to be seen. others we hide from view. what is the point of taboo, if it festers at the surface anyway? People long to share what secretly wracks their minds, only to let it burn within their hearts. We need to broadcast ourselves. we need to broadcast each other.
I have this problem. I broadcast my itchy thigh syndrome to the wrong people. I think that’s why I can’t get a man. I understand that most people have an issue with itchy thighs, but come on here people! Give this girl a break! It isn’t my fault that I have itchy thighs. I can’t help it! I know I shouldn’t broadcast it though. I do. But I really think it just makes more sense to broadcast my issue to people when I first meet them. Best icebreaker ever!
I listened to the broadcast where they announced that you had died. You weren’t special, only a name in a list, but it stood out your name, like nothing ever has since. Like a new rivet in a sheet of metal, your name stood out.
I missed you every day before the broadcast and every day after.
without your knowing, a man who prefers who silence, more comfortable watching the breakage, wreckage, jetsam and flotsam off our only ship, things you would be mad at me for; on another man’s bed, but you are the sin, the complications of relationships is only the beginning of your fears
highways with bike lanes, i think, is where your mind is, interpreted as your misunderstanding of sadism, but i know you are a sadist, at least, or you would be here none at all (watching me type — hiding the screen)
windstorms
(the first of its december)
on the downside of a mountain range, watching the approach, here we are at the peak, with no shelter;
there is shelter, if we turn the other summit
strucken back from the wind again, cold for so long i’m unsure what it feels like, i could hide behind you or curl into you, but either way —
that is besides the point, we are here for
watching these violent snowfogs roll in as though
if we might endure, we could join, or
what i mean to say, what i’ve been meaning to tell you, is that
this neglect to our bodies can lend us inhuman experiences, like being closer to a god (i know, you do not believe, theravadan buddhist, you are things i have never heard of, like a man watching white swallow trees from atop a rock like you could have ever believed you were separate from the world)
The news blared from the television screen, from the radio, stood out in bold-face capital letters in newspaper headlines. It was shouted across busy streets and murmured about in cafes. There was no escaping it. It was the story of the century.
news television broad casting cast word script road chickens ad people crime.
dancing skulls do the polka.
broadcast muffins playing in the rain with a spatula.
no sense.
fuckwad.
Time to tell everyone. No more secrets, it’s all out there. What a sense of freedom, telling it all. All at once, continuous confession. Amazing. On the other hand, it someone else does the telling, don’t like that.
You do one fucking this wrong and these bitches broadcast it around the school like it’s the morning news, like it’s something everybody has to know. Friendly to your face, judging you behind your back.
tv radio rush limbaugh… a bunch of people saying a bunch of shit trying to make their point. It seems like the conduit to which all intelligences flows. Broadcast is how the children learn about the global-scale world around them. Money money money money, advertisements all day every day.
She stares at the tv waiting for the cute broadcaster to come on. “Its eleven oclock ladies an gentlemen and heres this evenings news”. Wow this is the shittiest thing i have ever written…
Broadcasting is coincidentally the field that I hope to get a career in once I finish my 4 years here at Penn State. Actually, it’s funny. I had been hoping to study at Syracuse in the Newhouse school, but they didn’t accept me. I feel really alone here at school and in the back of my mind I feel like I actually belong somewhere else. I have no one here to tell that to. No one would understand because they all love it here too much.
And the broadcast showed me simple lies and promises of treasure. That’d we’d all end up in heaven, it said. It fed me bullshit and I wanted to eat it up… if only the bile hadn’t corroded my throat. All of the truth was away from the screen; the fiendish, everlasting flat void of mediocrity held no answers for me.
news broadcast about some weird lady living with 50 cats and no real outside communication. She is completely happy and people wont accept that; they insist on medical help. The two news anchors are secretly dating.The camera man doesn’t like to go home because his husband is a bad cook and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. While everyone in the news station is miserable, the cat lady laughs and remains happy.
Broadcast as in television broadcast. I used to be on the tv broadcast at my elementary school as part of the AV crew, but also as an announcer. I used to get so nervous to go on screen, but always once on it was amazing
i’ll never hear your words over the radio. never hear your voice the way it should be sung. never hear you the way the world needs to. media and their idea of what’s right. the machine is broken. bought and paid for. if you break it, you buy it. broken.
broadcast loudly enough and your words will still manage to fall on deaf ears
broadcasts that fall through tvs on the heads of those who couldn’t care less and how awful it is that the new hollywood couple is getting seperated
I didn’t think they would broadcast it all over the news. I didn’t think anyone would be so cruel. But oh, was I wrong. They put it on the radio, on the news. My life was a headline, the cover of a magazine. And all this time I thought I was the one who was blessed. It just goes to show how wrong I was.
broadcast yourself. here we are with the mos famous president ever lived of USA Abraham Lincoln. He wants water people he wants water, help me get this gun away and she snorted all downhill to make ac compliance wheel sharks and lava boy.
I once did a broadcast; It wasn’t a large one… A small one rather. One on a local news station, and I was persecuted for it. I did a story that let out a secret that I will never be able to take back. I ruined lives: People died, Riots broke out. All because of one broadcast.
Be who you really are and completely and only you. broadcast yourself and your feelings to the world and don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to cry when you see something sad or smile openly when something happy. dont be shy and dont hide within in yourself today is your day boradcast YOU
I think broadcast it’s fantastic. Johnny Depp it¡s awesome. Don’t udge this write, because it’s a shit. Please, don’t do it! Peace, bitches. I love you all. And my boyfriend specially. And my mum. And granny. Love both.
broadcast- is this about radio, or television? I think I’d like it better were it about fishing. I can just picture it now, me sitting on a bank of a river near a barn back home, and telling some little cousin of mine about fishing- “you have to make a broad cast, sweetie.”
What is a broadcast? Who can broadcast? Reporters broadcast stories. Television channels broadcast shows and commercials and infomercials. Broadcasts are ways to show a generation and teach them of something new or old or wonderful or stupid or great or odd. Broadcasts are beautiful.
broad shouldered
in that minute i ceased to exist
the grass underneath my feet
turned soggy
the limbs of trees reaching towards
an inky sky
radio, live transmission
far away from our walden pond
The radio flips on with a slight hiss. It begins to squeak out a few words, although no one is in the broadcasting room. It’s three a.m. and the news crew would have called it a day five hours ago had they still been alive. But in fact, they were one of the first to go when apocalypse hit. So it’s just the radio, and the empty room. It says, “Missed you, honey!” and then fades to static.
news, the zombie apocolypse, I love to wathc the news the news in the morning, not really for news but for the weather. The people on the channel 5 are really quite nice to listen to. Broadcast, the news
It was a long broadcast, the tinny scream of the commentators voice leapt out of the speakers and kept the whole audience on its toes. The broadcast came at 7:00pm every evening and never was it dull. The tone was always alarming, never soothing.
The anchor man sat, his eyes tired from sleepless nights. Everyday the same idea. He’d sit in-front of the camera and appear on the screen. No one likes the anchor man, yet everyone watches him.
You broadcast your shame for all of us to hear
You scribble it black and red all over these walls
Plastered on billboards and scrawled on your skin
You’re collecting all your tears in jars only to show them all to us
You need to prove your pain
You need someone to care
It only leaves us caring less
i heard the broadcast on a saturday.
the news of war
broadcast in blood.
i did not fall once.
i fell twice.
my second time corrupted me,
and brought my mother to her knee,
to ask the lord “i pray to thee:
please save my son, please let him be!”
you heard the broadcast on a sunday.
it was rainy and i was long gone.
Broadcast. I would broadcast out to the world how I felt about you, and you did nothing. You sat in silence and watched me suffer. Suffer a great deal of pain. Did you know? Did you know what you were doing to me as I faded away from the lightness that protected me from years? Don’t you see? Don’t you see what I am becoming?
His thoughts are like a frequency
Casted up into the night sky,
which finds me, and
as i was thinking of him,
I could feel his pain.
broadcasting in my mind,
radiating off his body.
I can feel when he’s unhappy,
When he feels loved
And when he wants me.
Our bodies are on the same frequency,
so he said, and as it seems.
broadcast television. Popular media? objective reporting is very difficult to find. Most stories are slanted in one way or another but in a pretty subtle way. It’s the graphics on the screen that influence conservative or liberal. From what I’ve noticed, the reporters usually do a fair job of just stating what happened. On most networks.
it was broadcast everywhere. the terrible, terrible voice, bearing awful news. war, it said, and she could picture the small moustache quivering with anger as he proclaimed this death sentence. she could see the rigid armed saluted of hundreds of murderous faces, and hundreds of black hearts shriveling slowly.
I knew I was listening to my daughter on the radio, as I finally recognized her voice. Why was she on there? I remembered when I was a kid, I’d call in to joke around with the talk-show broadcasters, but she wasn’t the type of girl to do that. And then I here the words come from her mouth, “I need to tell my parents about something that I’m really scared to do. I’m 14 years old, and I’m pregnant.”
I worked at the local fair over the summer, and one of the things that my concession stand was selling was unusual and got popular. It was talked about on social networking websites, and our stand manager was even broadcast on a local radio station. It was a really cool thing, and it was nice to see people so happy to see and buy the thing that was so talked about.
some things are meant to be seen. others we hide from view. what is the point of taboo, if it festers at the surface anyway? People long to share what secretly wracks their minds, only to let it burn within their hearts. We need to broadcast ourselves. we need to broadcast each other.
I have this problem. I broadcast my itchy thigh syndrome to the wrong people. I think that’s why I can’t get a man. I understand that most people have an issue with itchy thighs, but come on here people! Give this girl a break! It isn’t my fault that I have itchy thighs. I can’t help it! I know I shouldn’t broadcast it though. I do. But I really think it just makes more sense to broadcast my issue to people when I first meet them. Best icebreaker ever!
I listened to the broadcast where they announced that you had died. You weren’t special, only a name in a list, but it stood out your name, like nothing ever has since. Like a new rivet in a sheet of metal, your name stood out.
I missed you every day before the broadcast and every day after.
second take
dec. 8th
transcribing you
without your knowing, a man who prefers who silence, more comfortable watching the breakage, wreckage, jetsam and flotsam off our only ship, things you would be mad at me for; on another man’s bed, but you are the sin, the complications of relationships is only the beginning of your fears
highways with bike lanes, i think, is where your mind is, interpreted as your misunderstanding of sadism, but i know you are a sadist, at least, or you would be here none at all (watching me type — hiding the screen)
windstorms
(the first of its december)
on the downside of a mountain range, watching the approach, here we are at the peak, with no shelter;
there is shelter, if we turn the other summit
strucken back from the wind again, cold for so long i’m unsure what it feels like, i could hide behind you or curl into you, but either way —
that is besides the point, we are here for
watching these violent snowfogs roll in as though
if we might endure, we could join, or
what i mean to say, what i’ve been meaning to tell you, is that
this neglect to our bodies can lend us inhuman experiences, like being closer to a god (i know, you do not believe, theravadan buddhist, you are things i have never heard of, like a man watching white swallow trees from atop a rock like you could have ever believed you were separate from the world)
The news blared from the television screen, from the radio, stood out in bold-face capital letters in newspaper headlines. It was shouted across busy streets and murmured about in cafes. There was no escaping it. It was the story of the century.
news television broad casting cast word script road chickens ad people crime.
dancing skulls do the polka.
broadcast muffins playing in the rain with a spatula.
no sense.
fuckwad.
Time to tell everyone. No more secrets, it’s all out there. What a sense of freedom, telling it all. All at once, continuous confession. Amazing. On the other hand, it someone else does the telling, don’t like that.
You do one fucking this wrong and these bitches broadcast it around the school like it’s the morning news, like it’s something everybody has to know. Friendly to your face, judging you behind your back.
the broadcast on the infection played in an infinite loop. reminiscent of a scifi-drama with will smith, one lone man stood on the docks of manhattan.
“Why?” he begged the sky, down on his knees “Why did this happen?”
and the sky did not reply, but the sea swallowed him whole.
“Because you asked the wrong questions.”
tv radio rush limbaugh… a bunch of people saying a bunch of shit trying to make their point. It seems like the conduit to which all intelligences flows. Broadcast is how the children learn about the global-scale world around them. Money money money money, advertisements all day every day.
:)
She stares at the tv waiting for the cute broadcaster to come on. “Its eleven oclock ladies an gentlemen and heres this evenings news”. Wow this is the shittiest thing i have ever written…
Broadcasting is coincidentally the field that I hope to get a career in once I finish my 4 years here at Penn State. Actually, it’s funny. I had been hoping to study at Syracuse in the Newhouse school, but they didn’t accept me. I feel really alone here at school and in the back of my mind I feel like I actually belong somewhere else. I have no one here to tell that to. No one would understand because they all love it here too much.
And the broadcast showed me simple lies and promises of treasure. That’d we’d all end up in heaven, it said. It fed me bullshit and I wanted to eat it up… if only the bile hadn’t corroded my throat. All of the truth was away from the screen; the fiendish, everlasting flat void of mediocrity held no answers for me.
news broadcast about some weird lady living with 50 cats and no real outside communication. She is completely happy and people wont accept that; they insist on medical help. The two news anchors are secretly dating.The camera man doesn’t like to go home because his husband is a bad cook and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. While everyone in the news station is miserable, the cat lady laughs and remains happy.
Broadcast as in television broadcast. I used to be on the tv broadcast at my elementary school as part of the AV crew, but also as an announcer. I used to get so nervous to go on screen, but always once on it was amazing
i’ll never hear your words over the radio. never hear your voice the way it should be sung. never hear you the way the world needs to. media and their idea of what’s right. the machine is broken. bought and paid for. if you break it, you buy it. broken.
broadcast loudly enough and your words will still manage to fall on deaf ears
broadcasts that fall through tvs on the heads of those who couldn’t care less and how awful it is that the new hollywood couple is getting seperated
I didn’t think they would broadcast it all over the news. I didn’t think anyone would be so cruel. But oh, was I wrong. They put it on the radio, on the news. My life was a headline, the cover of a magazine. And all this time I thought I was the one who was blessed. It just goes to show how wrong I was.
broadcast yourself. here we are with the mos famous president ever lived of USA Abraham Lincoln. He wants water people he wants water, help me get this gun away and she snorted all downhill to make ac compliance wheel sharks and lava boy.
I once did a broadcast; It wasn’t a large one… A small one rather. One on a local news station, and I was persecuted for it. I did a story that let out a secret that I will never be able to take back. I ruined lives: People died, Riots broke out. All because of one broadcast.
Broadcast Television!
She said.
That’s what I want to do for life.
Her father frowned:
You don’t even read the news…
News reporter discusses an important story. Everyone hears about it on the tv, radio and anywhere the news is
Be who you really are and completely and only you. broadcast yourself and your feelings to the world and don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to cry when you see something sad or smile openly when something happy. dont be shy and dont hide within in yourself today is your day boradcast YOU
I think broadcast it’s fantastic. Johnny Depp it¡s awesome. Don’t udge this write, because it’s a shit. Please, don’t do it! Peace, bitches. I love you all. And my boyfriend specially. And my mum. And granny. Love both.
broadcast- is this about radio, or television? I think I’d like it better were it about fishing. I can just picture it now, me sitting on a bank of a river near a barn back home, and telling some little cousin of mine about fishing- “you have to make a broad cast, sweetie.”
What is a broadcast? Who can broadcast? Reporters broadcast stories. Television channels broadcast shows and commercials and infomercials. Broadcasts are ways to show a generation and teach them of something new or old or wonderful or stupid or great or odd. Broadcasts are beautiful.
broad shouldered
in that minute i ceased to exist
the grass underneath my feet
turned soggy
the limbs of trees reaching towards
an inky sky
radio, live transmission
far away from our walden pond
The radio flips on with a slight hiss. It begins to squeak out a few words, although no one is in the broadcasting room. It’s three a.m. and the news crew would have called it a day five hours ago had they still been alive. But in fact, they were one of the first to go when apocalypse hit. So it’s just the radio, and the empty room. It says, “Missed you, honey!” and then fades to static.
news, the zombie apocolypse, I love to wathc the news the news in the morning, not really for news but for the weather. The people on the channel 5 are really quite nice to listen to. Broadcast, the news
It was a long broadcast, the tinny scream of the commentators voice leapt out of the speakers and kept the whole audience on its toes. The broadcast came at 7:00pm every evening and never was it dull. The tone was always alarming, never soothing.