POEM: NEWS OF THE WORLD #8

XTRA! XTRA!

SANTA RANTA!—HIS FINAL MANTRA:

“Blow off a young girl’s face!”

CHINA RISING—A COSMIC SIZING!

(Too bad we’re out of space.)

New Year’s retreat—those dirty sheets!

Washing the polar ice.

And brown-skin boogie—a nappy-headed noogie.

All for a bowl of rice.

Electrons spinning—a global sinning.

Froggy says: “It’s not that hot.”

Neutrons winning—the world is dimming.

Let’s vote for Camelot.

Preachers selling. Flocks are swelling.

This way to clip the sheep.

Ozone’s oozing. Skin cells losing.

Doing life on the cheap.

Sexual stealing. Unnatural feeling.

Svengalis are on the make.

Armoured playpens. Sandbox mayhem.

A garden full of rakes.

Oh, phat it is! Now take the quiz.

(A winner inside every box!)

Once appealing, now congealing,

love’s cargo is on the rocks.

Shorelines bleeding, coasts receding.

Don’t forget to take your pill.

Prescription noted. But bellies bloated?

(Over there.) Just take your fill.

Time’s a’ wasting, yet feathered playthings

tickle testicles for wayward sperm.

Balding eagles, yet pampered beagles

fill the columns with concern. 

Lunch on Sunday. Dead on Monday.

Bombing those shorter skirts.

Oh, for a homeland! (A castle of sand.)

Who’ll answer your colored alerts?

Lines are drawn far from croquet lawns

where buffets use golden plates.

Long distance Cupid. Do you think we’re stupid?

(But can we have the cheaper rate?)

Heads come offing, babies sloughing,

on hold for that coltan rush.

Cellphone ring-tones feeding your jones,

all while tightening up your tush.

Armies intern. Fighting they yearn,

following the money trail.

Raping babies (hopes of maybes).

Success means that we fail.

Gunships—they rock! Bullets, they sock-

it to virtuals along the quay.

Some TV anchor, a balding wanker:

“I hope you all have a nice day.”
.....................

Will it soon end? Will it all mend?

Is that hope there in the dark?

In a closet? Or by a comet?

Still, there’s new grass in the park.

WRITTEN IN THE NEW CENTURY'S TWEENS. I just re-read it and I thought I would post it. It’s angrier than I recalled and full of events in the news that are terrible: the Mumbai massacres (with the reference to “shorter skirts”.) A group of Pakistani Islamist extremists created mayhem in the Indian metropolis by shooting up several city districts and killing many innocent folk. I wonder what extremists will do when they finally win? Will they set up their own system of “coloured alerts” to warn them against the extremists who will come after them? That’s a good bet.

Other news: mining "coltan" in the Congo, and the blood that is on so much of what we think of as normal—our cellphones, laptops etc. Coltan is the local, Congolese name for a rare earth mineral called "columbite–tantalites". People die in that conflict-ridden nation for control of the wealth coming from those mines. Thus, I type this with blood on my hands. Though, perhaps today there are less bloody resources being used to keep us digitally sated, or maybe the warring sides in the Congo reached a compromise…[Or forward to 2019 when the death toll in that ever-simmering conflict zone is over five million through war and disease: that's two of the four horsemen. Oh wait,now there's Ebola, too.]  Maybe they’ll eventually broker peace there, and people can share in the wealth from the vast mineral resources of that rich country; I'm sure all the folks in their mass graves will raise a cheer over that. Yah! Another story is about some happy-go-lucky guy in the States dressed up as Santa Claus who shot a young girl, disfiguring her for life. Merry Fucking Christmas!

      There are stories of abuse; false prophets; racism; killing by remote control. (I was thinking about the 2010 WikiLeaks release of the video showing an American helicopter gunship in 2007, in Iraq mistaking a group of innocent civilians for combatants, and shooting them as they got in their van. It looked like something out of a video game. It was shocking—to say the least. And if more people said the most, perhaps gunships might someday go the way of the dodo.“Fly the Friendly Skies”, as one airline advertised back in the day, but don't mess with those sky riders! This poem was written when "drones" were becoming the Next Big Thing. (Thanks, Obama.) 

     And, of course, I have my usual references to climate change, as I do in most NoW poems, to let a ray of sunshine in and...oh, who am I kidding? Sigh.
But, I end this litany of disgust with one of my favorite summary lines: “Still, there’s new grass in the park.” It’s a small glimmer of hope, but it's there. I hope it's enough.

Cheers, Jake.

"I don't know, Adam, it all seems so sordid, somehow."