I don't think I could decide whether I was writing a political rant or a poem here.

faintly flickering light
primitives crouched around it
amidst the ravages of their society
they are at peace. 
Their creations tower over them
In day, we cower around them
But at night, we control our fear
Happy with our TV sets. 
Their pablum pours ceaselessly into us,
Calming, quietly numbing our minds, 
Imagination is not necessary,
Television will imagine for us. 
Does it work to make us think?
Giving us new ideas?
So we can imagine better
With new thoughts in our minds?
Or are we trapped in our own folly,
Watching old stories passed off as new,
With a thin lacquered veneer, easily scratched off,
Pretending to educate and enlighten you?
The faint flickering light of our TV sets,
Exuding no warmth, no heat, no life,
Pale and blue seen through a window. 
Won't you come watch Johnny Carson tonight?