Broken News

by

Chris Lahren

If you ever had to wake up to the any day of news we see...you know what
it's like.
Yes, you know the misery that's felt by most each day...the pain.
Somehow there is always a top story of doom and gloom, a war in Kosovo.
And like never before we've been broken, we're at the terrible end.
Happiness no longer exists on the evening news...it's been murdered, like
everyone else.
And who's convicted? It's fallen upon our very leaders, they are now infected.
But somehow my own world is not included...
every day I see some form of love and laughter, selfless arbitrations.
I don't see the day to day suicide and homicides that are reported to be
everywhere.
I don't see the blackened sun and the seven plagues that harken doom.
I see my mother and good souls that I call friends...ready to break my very
fall.
And the walls we paint each day are colorful, unlike the abysmal darkness of war
that is everywhere else but here, I guess.
And after the news I see violent stories and hate...
and blame pointing their fingers at the messenger.
The tiny box that captivates us all each day and night...it's become what we
are.
It's a shadow box, it's a greedy liar.
It's a wicked soldier, it's murderous cancer.
Yet we flick the switch each day to ask for more.

Poetry Competition

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Mountains
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

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