Terminal Pomposity

Some odd mad sign nailed to the floor
Eating through doors of perception
No one gets to raise objection
Objectivity is a sin
Media Cancer on the march again
Moving mouths with words to say
They know so much about so little
Just how they're paid is not a riddle
The bosses must approve the script
And all the lines over which are tripped
Any opponent to the party line must be ripped to shreds
Listen away as the real news goes over our heads
Everyone seems to have the answer
Reading from teleprompters feeding Media Cancer
This side good, that side bad
No in between to spread the blame
Just identity and poison fame
Nothing real just chaos and sound
What goes around must come around
With no real question no real answer
Just empty words
Media Cancer



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2020-09-13 at 18:26

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Well said!
2020-09-14


F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
This made me think, "Yes, it's way too much, and it's way enough." No wonder people are stressed and anxious! I like the way you wrote this, a lot of interesting lines that create a strong sense for the reader. Nicely done, thanks.
2020-09-13

Texts




Book Of Night
by Chaucer Whethers