A NEWSPAPER PEOPLE USED TO READ
On a good day it had reported, in type face tall,
The rise of dictators, and equally often the fall
Of tyrants, cruel rulers and abusers of nations,
Exposed in their paroxysmal atrial fibrillations.
Now we live in sad days, hardly any news at all,
Its columns, dry and useless as old leaves in fall.
Full of meaningless words to amuse its readers
Who cannot distinguish them from lofty leaders
So carefully crafted by a younger editorial staff,
Turgid ‘new’ reflections that make old men laugh
At the ignorance of youth and the paper’s demise,
Today no longer newsworthy to young or old eyes.