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Oh Holy Temple of TVLand!

by David Hill

Habitual ritual,
this daily nightly.
I gutter rut stuff till
I’m glaringly blaringly
zombiefied,
zoned and honed
to satellite signals
from seventy five.

Hooterville Eb
dangly gangly
totally tranquilly
hip man, hired hand
fairingly so barely bone sparingly,
bachelor bung holed up in a barn.
Hots cakes at dawn
and hots cakes at dusk.
Old Man Douglas got a cornstalk stuck so far up his…
well, you know the rest.

Buddha, Buddha
on my TV.

Caroliner Gomer,
boner pullin’ Jonah
slack jawed hick
very groovy peacenik,
grindin’ down The Man plan
with caissons of kindness
for call-girls, conmen
and rainy day stray-men.
Grunt-man Carter got the K-rations crammed so far up his…
well, you know the rest.

Jesus, Jesus
on my TV.

I’m glaringly blaringly
zombiefied,
zoned and honed
to satellite signals
from seventy five.

05/11/2006

Author's Note: Wigged out, yet again...

Posted on 05/11/2006
Copyright © 2026 David Hill

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/12/06 at 03:52 AM

Hehehehehehehehehehehe!!!!!! Very fun to read! "glaringly, blaringly zombified" Perfect....

Posted by Vere Mantratriad on 05/15/06 at 07:45 PM

Oh the grip this holy temple can have on us. If only we worshipped other things and people as much.

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