Monday, 19 October 2009


The luminous, seductive face
Glares into a million other faces -
Into a million homes.
TV-fans stare into its deepness.
Entranced by its small pleasures.
Too soon beguiled by the sharp screen.

As we sit, deep down in the settee’s comfort,
Neo-Medusa turns us to stone.
We are dead stones.

We TV-slaves consume the pure data.
Get fat on commonplace visions; none of our own.
Snared by a vicious glow.
Sucking TV-dummy for Freudian pleasure.
Our ever-present, ever-false, friend.

Straight after switch-off: TV-silence. 
We are not amused.
The silence speaks.
It pounds our heads.
We fear what’s within us.
We fear the rare silence.

What’s with it? - This TV-silence?
Our hidden, real isolation?
The void, unspruced, just Being-There.
Our tacit misery.

So what’s on TV tonight?

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