Why The News?
January 22, 2018
What has it got to do with us?
The ‘shutting down’ of America; ...go bust!
As far as any Enlishman might mourn
The Turkish and the Kurds arming for conflict
Might they withhold did we serve them an edict?
And what are we to do with such rare knowledge?
If it be knowledge worthy of the pillage?
So that we have a handle on a world’s happenings?
So that we intervene in Catalonia?
Or damp the forest fires of California?
So let us tut-tut-tut - that beast, Myanmar!
So we feel vindicated?
And not exasperated
At levels of distress, great avalanche of war and suffering
Exposed to us without being safe from buffering
No, all we do is sorb, consume, we masticate
The hovering gloom
It’s another overproduced consumerist commodity
A bother, wasted effort in the newsrooms
A catalogue of woes promoted for a doleful quality
What handle might we have, as say, control?
A handle opens, gives access, or closes,
Yet we are surely seated in Read Only mode
No editing permissions, wholly indisposed,
No clout, no shout, nor say,
In what goes on in other lands, afar and now, today
And so a lickerish burn of fire replaces
Concern, a certain prurient itch, a frisson
A hint inquisitive, a trace amount salacious,
So that perhaps we might hold forth, as seer loquacious
Be spaciously expansive spouting out accounts
Some hours in depth; a show in which we show
Intricacy, involvement, being in the know
And do a bow, show off; remark and learn, O, hero
How high your mauve faur impresses others
Oppressive stamp your ready grip on things
You who abet, and hold no useful purpose
Events run slippery as water through our hands
Changing from day to day acordingly as fans
New strands are chasing, whither for to cast
Construe the issues.
Remotes choose us our views, form our forecasts
Some game; some blast.
Grandly, we joust to have to have control, our hands on zero,
Yet often not a player even in our own back yards
A Putin might as well be heard as hear of Nero
So far as anything we do or say pertains, imparts,
Or bears upon the facts:
A sort of guessing game for curious people
To think so much of, think it consequence
Not least to keep abreast attests self-estimation
Projecting luche importance onto foreign tales
Told out of school by tutors about truant pupils
Form-masters of high lessons make patrol, confuse
Truth faith with pledged support to closed world views
As rulers recommend them
News servers would suppose their places to be masters
Themselves wearing plain clothes, drab robes that hang
As dreary fare like governmental figures’ deathly hues
Of staid insufferable greying mock-authority
As wearing gloves to hide ones hands, their human frailties
That twitch working the slot machines, react, respond
Professing homiletic drools of compentence
Manhandling manufactures of mind-maddening news
They handle it like a fence
Receives a lot of holy stolen goods too hot to handle
The whole shebang and rigmarole not worth a candle
A parliament of fools, chancers disguised, all fervour-crazed
Who like to look the part
Whom by their facile art
Another damn fine mess they’ve got us into.