I guess he was wrong,

I guess he was wrong,

Gil Scott-Heron,

As everything is televised nowadays.

Of a guy stabbing somebody

On a train

A passenger caught the act on a phone

It was horrifying

The screen was held so still

Barely a shake.

Terrifying.

The camera

Told no lies

One guy just sat in his seat

Minding his business

What was he thinking?

It was a big knife

What kind of blind ignorance

Held sway here

He was caught

When the train stopped at the next station

Did he even think

About the consequences

For anybody?

What a strange world

Of random events

We digest every day

With breakfast

Daily news is an accompaniment

To life

Cleaning my teeth

Washing my face.

The ticker tape

Runs under the screen

Just in case I want more news

Than they can tell me.

You say it is a black swan

A distraction

There is more to this

Than meets the eye

Of the beholder

But as the world gets older

The message remains the same

Too many people

Have too little to do

With their time

Other than to act out a fantasy

Of a Wild West world

Brutal and lawless

Where the truth of things

Is abstracted

Into entertainment

Objectified

The guy becomes an actor

Playing himself

An anti-hero

A supporting role

A minor character

In a drama

At my kitchen sink

There are no deep conspiracies

Just a bunch of jealous guys

Greedy individuals

Unforgiving

Lost souls

Stockpiling

Building their own truth.

Some seek a second chance

At redemption

Those are the stories we like to see

Resurrectionism

Bodies without consequence.

Blood without lust

Is just blood.

The dying can live among us

In limbo

They just haven’t

Figured out how, yet.