And some poetry/song to kick off thanks to the Glasgow Media Group and their quotation of Ewan MacColl and "An Item of News"
Living by proxy in the half light
Items of news slip by like flakes of food in a fish tank
Between the un-seating of a royal jockey
And the bland insincerities of talking heads
We see for an instant the awkward dead
Heaped carelessly at the corner of a street
Like brushwood piled for burning.
This wood is green, unsutiable for firing.
Sap still comes from the stricken limbs of striplings,
Broken boys and girls
With faces made anonymous by death.
Only a tear in the knee of a pair of jeans,
A shoeless foot unnaturally bent
A rucked up sweatshirt revealing pitiful flesh
Reminds us that they once possessed a singularity
Beyond the comprehension of the killers
Who stare at the camera lens with eyes
As blank as bottle tops