Organised violence

The fire eating objects
Collected themselves
Not on a stage
But gathered together
In a mass media campaign

The marvelous nature
Of
THE CAMPAIGN
Was pure spectacle
No one
Would be selling anything
And airtime would be donated
From a secret frequency slot
For this one
Almighty
Twenty four seven
Fire eating extravaganza

Although
At first
A majority appeared critical
(They thought that flame swallower's
Were primarily useless)
They ignored the dancing exhaustion
Of televised ignition
The plays of gases and fuels
The bare sinews of the invisible
Apparently dismembered

But
Slowly
They became enthralled
Mesmerized even
Extended
Away from
The flameless pornography
Of the sugared mediocrity
Like Stretch Armstrong
If
You’re old enough
Or
Savvy even
To have heard of that particular toy

And soon enough
It seemed
As though
A proportion of humanity
Was melting
Like dolls heads in the glare
Of some unsafe
Unchecked
Electrical
Heating appliance
Once used to lightly scold
The barren toes of post-war
Children

However
The more popular they became
The less they remembered
Why they were
And they got mean

Basically

At first this couldn’t be seen
Was only a private cynicism
Amongst the objects
Who spat with knowing irony
But it wasn’t long before
They could no longer contain
Their spite
And sometimes
Not only
Did they not light up
But they refused to appear

They were

They became

DEAD TIME...

And many sat
Still
To watch the silence
Waiting
But soon
The begrudged masses
(Dismissed
As only that;
Entranced by difference
Missing the point
Or even
Just plain foolish)
Clocked the ruse
And revolted
Demanding more
They liked it
They wanted it
And not
Just in defense

And soon
All the other channels
Could no longer compete

Silence

There was silence friends