The luminous, seductive face
Glares into millions of other faces…
Into millions of homes.
TV-fans stare into its deepness.
Entranced by its small pleasures.
Too soon beguiled by the sharp screen.
As we sit, deep down settee-comfort,
Neo-Medusa turns us to stone.
Stone-dead.
We are dead stones.
TV-slaves consume pure data.
Get fat on commonplaces (none of our own).
Snared by its 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 - just Being-There.
Our tacit misery.
So what’s on TV tonight?
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