What is the point of the news?

To fill one’s conception with views.

Whose?

To tender perceptions directions

Overwriting receptive election

So to render, without self-detection,

One’s cognisance

Lissome guidance

Laying charms over thought’s apparatus

And disarming a mind’s conversation

Out of the zone

Indiscernibly prone

Tuning in, we’re wired up to the world

Catching curved balls implicitly hurled

Like a bone

For a dog, captivated, stone sat

Imitating the cat on the mat

The position assumed had off-pat.

Chaperoned

Handsomely, and put safely to bed

Certainty breathes, in runes that they said,

Grateful fasten ones hospital head

To a pillow

And a dream of imprinted belief

Playing scores in a groove – a debrief

Laying grounds bearing all underneath

Half-invented

Represented,

Parliamented

As a scale of successive motifs,

Of expression;

End of lesson

In Pavlovian dog-like condition

One’s rough edges allayed cauterised

Like by plainchant of soft rolling sighs

Education, the light of our eyes,

By the wise supervised, modulating

From above on a great edifice;

Massif God has forbade us to grace -

We ask peace in the word and the truth
Gentle love and abundance of ruth
Though our work meet the end of the line
When The Landlord bestirs to call time