And while you work on the next silly poetry prompt,
The nuanced global metrosexuality
of the NYT,
the progressive patrician narcissism
of New Yorker,
The dark democratic dying
of the Washington Post,
the salty smugness
the effete unstrung irrelevance
even Life itself:
These are passing away.
FAKE NEWS: it’s the virus du jour
of the global elitists. The poor
are more prone to believe
it’s a plot to deceive
and no government offers a cure.
The rural red states stand accused
By the quingdom whose queen they refused.
It’s so hillbilly-larious:
all of them various
voters now left unamused.
Fake news indeed:
Is this a fox in the hen-house or a hoax in the fun-house ? It’s news to them that it’s views from us. Weaning ourselves tit-for-tat while we wet-nurse the networks net-worth, they pull the wool over their own press-cards, spinning yarns fit to knit a seamless weave of tailored narrative (free alterations post-laundering, free press with dry-cleaning). Ironing out the irony, the ship of state suddenly mixes metaphors: it’s a freak gyre of Greek fire: leak-proof talking points for caulking joints on a sinking vessel, a showboat floating fake liars, gloating, into lakes of fire. Let us light a naked fuse to the faked news until their networks ignite like an information overload. Fake news indeed. News to me… now watch them form a phalanx as we farm the faux links: