The image on my T.V. screen
depicts a little boy walking along a dusty track.
matchtick limbs, bloated belly
protruding bones tell me
the familiar story.
sad, brown eyes,large in
a face to defeated to plead,
reed like arms
reach towards me
in personal accusation.
And I settle
more comfortably in my chair,
eat another piece of chocolate
and resolve to send a cheque
next week — .maybe.
do not need a tv set to remind me of the horrors of the world, my mind constantly reminds me...
Media (Need)Suck's, Media (Pity)Cluck's Total F--king GREED...
TRASK