War on the Wrong Channel
The city glows in shellfire, history scrolls beneath reality TV,
Flesh and flags trade places while the camera stays on a celebrity’s plea.A
mother pulls a child from the rubble as a chef cracks jokes on a screen,
The world is burning on mute,
but the ratings remain serene.A missile erases a neighborhood—one thumb tap,
then on to the next,
Attention is currency, outrage is fleeting,
distraction is the new context.They lost a country while the feed refreshed,
new hashtags trending each hour,
No funerals for the truth, no shelter from clickbait power.
Each face in the crowd is a pixel in a war that doesn’t sell,
The soldiers bleed in reruns,
their children’s names impossible to spell.The anchors cry for dogs abandoned,
but never name the girl in dust,
Heroes die on commercial breaks,
ideals traded for lust.Journalists risk
their throats for stories drowned in memes,
Politicians promise peace, then arm the next regimes.We stage
our outrage with profile frames, thinking we’ve done our part,
While the war is still a product, violence a work of art.
There are dead men walking in a buffer loop, mothers erased by a swipe,
While we scroll for dopamine,
every truth is drowned in hype.No candlelit vigils for the vanished,
just stickers and digital applause,
Meanwhile the smoke rises, and the world keeps breaking laws.Somewhere
a girl takes selfies under ruins, war paint for her feed,
She doesn’t mourn her father—she’s learned
that hunger breeds.The ticker at the bottom blurs—how many dead? No
one knows.But we share the latest meme, and let the channel close.
In the final hour, when history plays on repeat and every channel bleeds,
The victors will be those who paid for silence,
who profited from needs.Flags wave in static, hearts blacked out,
the gods of distraction win,
No one mourns the murdered when the coverage wears thin.We bombed the wrong cities,
believed the wrong lies,
Sold every victory as justice,
every funeral as wise.The bombs will keep falling as long as there’s a viewer
left to sway—The war is never over, it’s just a new channel, a new price to pay.
The only real battle is for memory,
the only winner is denial,And the news will keep us happy, docile,
and single-file.This is war on the wrong channel—no generals,
just celebrities on parade,And the ones who bled for nothing,
they’re the only ones who stayed.