This impulsive post was inspired by fellow poet Ju Clear over at Hello Poetry.
I am still thinking about Ghost Ship, the Oakland rave that burned down 2 weeks ago, killing 36 people. I have very conflicted feelings about this. There may be possible arson motives behind it (?). As I am finding out, nothing is ever as reported. The Oakland fire is very similar to the New Cross Fire of 1981, recounted in this dub poem by the great poet Linton Kwesi Johnson.
All that glitters (as Wisdom has told)
may turn out a deception, resold
to the gullible masses;
mistaking the brasses
for shining electoral gold.
Fake news indeed:
Is this a fox in the hen-house or a hoax in the fun-house ? It’s news to them that it’s views from us. Weaning ourselves tit-for-tat while we wet-nurse the networks net-worth, they pull the wool over their own press-cards, spinning yarns fit to knit a seamless weave of tailored narrative (free alterations post-laundering, free press with dry-cleaning). Ironing out the irony, the ship of state suddenly mixes metaphors: it’s a freak gyre of Greek fire: leak-proof talking points for caulking joints on a sinking vessel, a showboat floating fake liars, gloating, into lakes of fire. Let us light a naked fuse to the faked news until their networks ignite like an information overload. Fake news indeed. News to me… now watch them form a phalanx as we farm the faux links:
