The News: An Elegy
Have you heard? All the news
is broken. All the new colors are burnt
shades of yellow from newspapers in disarray.
Anything made or powered by the politics of politeness
can break, die, rot, and fade
away. Even grizzled journalists have stopped
questioning if people can smile with every excuse.
I traced a string of code to the merger of America
Online with Time Warner on January 10th, 2000.
That year, natural rights (unofficially) became untenable
at the United Nations. Have you ever had unguarded
conversations and let lovers of gaslighting attend?
Was it not Socrates, but Athenian jurors who were ugly?
Did M. J. Adler improve Aristotle and St. Augustine too bluntly?
A.I. sees your query. . . A.I. may hallucinate if you hurry . . .
the long progression of questioning perennial problems
and similarities of families, groups, tribes, villages, towns, cities, states,
and countries as one world and one government became one
big recusal. Was it excusable? With money, power is useful.
The U.N. couldn’t measure Western truth, but Eastern harmony
felt less rough. Only fine sand gets washed through the cracked
glass of a decorative hourglass. Some researchers believe
a fast-burning flame of words was spun in people’s eyes
to enhance inattention. 111 articles say that both East and West
love ascension. Current research says undogmatic ideas are in old,
buried, retention walls of dry wells left to sit. Great online libraries
are the harvested waters to drink and quench thirst as a store
of unreplicable research for free, and behind paywalls, free speech
for all for a small fee. Society’s time has not been wasted curating
performative, broken, dead, rotted links. I am harmonious and sweet.
The truth is broken. A stat was hacked. This job has Ivy League prestige.
It’s beyond history. Truth hides with recluses and the muses.
All the definitions have confusing negative connotations anyway.
Let’s play! Let’s plant a probability. Influenza of what we say? You live.
Sad song? Some pray to silicon as the savior of the day. Bow? Bend?
It’s okay. Faded-yellow-journalistic-algorithms still report—sell in May.
