The Phoenix: Part 2 – The Exploitation

With little regard they swarmed into the courtyard
covering the ground with some speed.
Perpetually jostling those in the vanguard.
Every one of them wanting the lead.

It was the journalists who first arrived at the front;
each clutching their pad and their pass.
Those just risen the worst, their inexperience an affront
to those who were still holding a glass.

Next came photographers, tightly gripping their gear.
They seemed to arrive from all quarters.
But more worrying by far than their abrupt influx here
was the way they understood the reporters.

Then bringing up the rear came the television crews;
each faking a semblance of glee.
Trying to make it appear their position was a ruse –
that this was where they wanted to be.

“On me in three, two, one.” said one correspondent
as he frantically battled his hair.
He failed but pressed on, neither dismayed nor despondent
“This is Giles from Mythology On Air.”

“Hi, I’m Candy, reporting for Dumbed Down News.”
said the woman neighbouring him.
She clearly had the hair for the job, and also the shoes,
and was fortunately also quite dim.

Then there was Isiah from Is Armageddon Enough?
(whose coffers were doing just fine)
He was taking this chance to solicit all sorts of stuff,
finding the phoenix a sign.

Numerous nature channels were scattered any old how,
and once again it was Alan who mused
that it seemed as if the woman from “Naturist’s Now”
had gotten just a little confused.

Alcohol had flowed, and undeniably showed
the clear ambiguity of words
when one business’ founder, awakened and found her
station was simply called ‘Birds’

With copious flannel, this high-numbered channel
had landed Brian in front of a mike.
As he spoke without break, they discerned their mistake –
interviewer and lensman alike.

He was wittering on how his appendix had gone;
succumbed to an eagle’s vexed peck.
But a caladrius’ knack had caused it to grow back
At least, the last time he checked.

By now, one reporter had finished his story.
Was the first one to pull out his phone.
Expecting the glory, but clearly denied for he
let out a terrible groan.

His phone had been seen; he was tapping the screen
but to little effect so far.
The god of mobile phones was being so mean
he could not get even one bar.

In succession you could spy, each of them try.
It seemed they were in a dead zone.
Each regarded the outcry, and the lone kiosk nearby,
then all made a dash for the phone.

One falling behind, caught in a fine bind,
unhappy at being in the rear,
cleared this Gordian Knot and tried nipping through shot
but Isiah had other ideas.

His patience had strayed, his temper was frayed,
now unravelling, becoming undone.
But when push came to shove the reporters all bayed
and the pack turned on its heels as one.

The soundman and camaraman gave of their best
but stood little chance in the mayhem.
The reporters howled in delight, but this was when the rest
of the camera crews turned upon them.

This was quite the event, unfortunately it went
unreported by those with civility.
Much testosterone was spent, and serenity was rent
by the media’s violent proclivities.

Now a soundman called Mike was struck by a strike;
sent flying by someone’s left hook.
As he staggered and reeled, he saw something that appealed
so pointed and urged all to look.

Avoiding each other’s gaze they got up off the floor.
Turned back to reporting to the world.
Grabbed their equipment, took their positions once more
as a new chapter to the story unfurled.


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