Overload

We're all connected like some
Human Internet,
Media hyperlinks grafting us instantly into
Other people's lives.

I can't watch the TV news right now.
The pictures on radio aren't just better -
They're so vivid they give me nightmares,
And when I hit DELETE, the screen reloads with
Fresh images of horror.

From thousands of miles away
A nation watches As It Happens!
With one click, transported to the spot
Where wailing villagers mourn a lost generation
buried with their teachers.
A different village every bulletin!
Ten thousand Aberfans at the touch of a button!

Or I could savour the sight of mothers
Stumbling wide-eyed through the flooded wreckage of their lives,
Their parched throats denying them the last comfort
Of screaming for their families -
Whose bloated, stinking corpses rot five miles downstream,
As their rulers continue
To export rice to Singapore
And bask in the glory of their re-election.

Unable to be there in person,
We donate a few pounds to the
Pay-as-you-Watch-wall-to-wall-Reality-Horror-Channel;
Consciences salved, we pour the tea
And settle on our sofas.

Vicarious vultures.

Unable to devour their grief in person,
We watch the re-runs on the hour,
Between our favourite Reality TV, adverts for pizza, hair-dye and personal injury claims.
Familiar faces entertain us.

Meanwhile millions die.

But we don't know their names.