Information

From sunrise, when the breath of the new-born day Kisses my eyes, information startles me. Waves of my sleep leave the froth from my mouth, Youthful and earnestly fresh with the harassment of Both cuddly dreams and feverish nightmares. The glut of information besieges me like the Waterfall of cracked rocks, wailing with liquid power. I hasten to read the first-ever BREAKING NEWS. It’s always awful, and carries with it the threnody of a Ululating community, mourning in red-and-black. Have you heard from the internet of late? Meaning of “late” here romances with a breath of time, A loose sketch of sleeting hours, Between 6 pm and a frazzled midnight — And from then to the muted first cockcrow. With the glow from the internet, we no longer go to roost Early. We struggle with insomnia to keep vigil, drugged by Too much information, frenzied elation. Social media is the bazaar of our age — We trade on gossips and callous banters, Free from cursing kings and beggarly tranters alike. We neither spare horseback riders our envy. News items redolent of hate are disgorged from the lean bowels of my Mobile phone, from the blinking visage of the television, From the silent-and-buzzing pips of the old valve radio, From the Doors of the personal computer . . . And from curious gossips across the dilapidated fence. Frightened by the gaze of satellites above, I follow the mark and weaving trails of the second BREAKING NEWS. Its shadow haunts with the primitive brio of dancing killers. It snorts with the speed of mating dragons, Puking acrid smoke of empowered gasps. The world is in TROUBLE! There are now five seasons: WINTER, SPRING, AUTUMN, SUMMER, and CLIMATE CHANGE. It rains hell down from heaven. Floods race with rage and bring back the days of Noah with fury. Forest fires invade with terror the precincts of previous hallowness. Endless migrations shake the lands Financial meltdown humbles Jack and Jill. The Earth is in TROUBLE! I wonder what sister planets think of her. I used to be boastful of her. But not anymore! Not with all the stinking scandals painted on her Broad canvas and board. Far from being what it used to be, we believe everything we read And hear and see with eyes groggy from abraded sleep. Our brains are clogged, muzzled, mildewed . . . Oh, how frightened ancient town-criers would have been, (those wise men who punctuated their BREAKING NEWS with proverbs and axioms) How startled, how repulsed, to witness the present unclothed age Of wayward Information, in which FAKE NEWS warm Hearts of both man and beasts! I shudder. I cringe. I wonder. I have lost count of the seasons.