Thick with the smell of newsprint,
Of headlines,both banal and profound,
The morning air brings news to me,
Of towers razed to the ground....
Of starlets,leaders and sportsmen,
Folk you'll hear of now and then.
Every move they make will spawn news,
Warily,I start,"In times of yore...
"The journos snap,"Don't be a bore!
Aren't you familiar with the latest courses?
Honey,it's all about market forces!"
"Information,what's that worth?"
Newspaper editors laugh sans mirth.
"As for the truth,it's what we tell them,
All that matters is what we sell them!"
Muckraking and tattle-tale
Double standards rarely fail.
"What!"(they shout),"You ask for proof?!
Just watch those sales hitting the roof."
So,I have an announcement solemn,
I place this piece in the obit column.
Journalism succumbs to its woes,
And that,my friend,is breaking news.
This is an old poem of mine which I am posting here....this way,at least,it won't get lost in the
gigantic labyrinth of rubbish that masquerades as my room.