I don't know why I do it
By blighters rock
- 1610 reads
I don’t know why I do it,
reading the Daily Mail online
is like visiting a virtual morgue every morning.
There’s so much beauty outside
but I just can’t resist looking into the abyss;
the baby whose parents starved her
finally found peace in her car seat
while they ate a Golden Corral bumper meal,
the two-year old boy that shot his mum in the face
on a shopping spree at Walmart
with the licensed gun in her handbag.
Swearing to buffer the madness
I make coffee in the kitchen
and then return to the hotseat
to read Cainer’s predictions for ’15.
Apparently my masterplan will come off
after the thing that’s going to happen in March
but maybe I’m not the only Aries
with a sodding deathwish.
There’s movement outside
and when I peer up into the white morning light
a crow’s picking away at something black,
something motionless on an icy driveway.
He’s holding it down with his feet
tucking in with vim to break the seal.
It may be a poop bag
and I laugh as the crow shudders,
but it stays on top of the thing.
Maybe it’s a roadkill bird
and I wonder whether birds eat each other
or if they like doing it with their dead,
but then it moves.
Firing a peck at the crow’s neck,
she wafts him away and drifts
a man’s length onto the road,
flapping her wings.
Looks could kill or I don’t know
maybe she’s happy
filled with the joys of life and love
as he rests to contemplate his dutiful mastery,
looking down at the place he passed the parcel.
She takes flight
and he follows.
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Comments
those birds may be mad, but
those birds may be mad, but not as bad as the Daily (Hate) Mail.
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I liked this. i got a bit
I liked this. i got a bit confused about the he and she though and who they are. I do agree with the sentiment though, and I think the cadaverous crow a pretty apt comparison.
Thanks for reading. I am grateful for your time.
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I have a phobia of reading /
I have a phobia of reading / hearing / seeing the news. I feel guilty about this, like I'm turning a blind eye, but I decided that I have to sometimes block out what I can do nothing about except fret - it makes me ill - and that helps no one. And there's the problem of what to believe - when so much of what is written is trash.
So anyway, the start of your poem struck a chord with me, and I recognised the feeling behind it. I think it would work well as two separate pieces; the first ending 'with a sodding deathwish.' But bringing the two together becomes a great clip of your morning and thoughts inspired by what is going on inside and out, ending with a sort of hopeful - perhaps.
Enjoyed.
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Oh my goodness! I wasn't
Oh my goodness! I wasn't suggesting you should split the piece. I only thought how each worked alone as together. I'm so clumsy - should keep my rambling old thoughts to myself.
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I sometimes think there
I sometimes think there should be seperate good news and bad news - papers, so we can choose if we want to be depressed or uplifted. Enjoyed this very much Blighters. R
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