Is it news

Squawking reports of hidden feats, angry words of, deadbeats…
Thumping calls a passing cloud, as blades, whirl a beast about the crowd..
Blue and red flashes, beat angry rhythms across gathered faces in the night..
Was it a fight, some child a fatal fright, that brings such a show into our sight..
There between the uniformed cars, against the damp earth they lay..
Where it not night, in the day we could call to each and say…
Why this hurt, this hate here you brought, who this anger you taught…
It’s night, between upturned worlds, and quotable phrases, lingers thoughts..
Why is this news why do you care, what can this loss mean to someone out there…
Yet still we come stand and stare, cameras spinning up images to share..
Squawking reports, a reporters retort, here again tonight, hate claimed another life…
Will you watch, will you know, who has died, or lives for another show…
But for you we gather it here, because you stop, look and stare..
If it bleeds it may not lead, but you listen, and share, you must really care…
Is this news, you choose, switch before we’re through, eventually something new..
Till you do, red and blue strobes will beat out hates rhythm just for you..
Are you watching…
WAM

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