The News

The keepers of the knowledge gate
Demark the bounds of the debate,
And manufacture an illusion
That we've reached our own conclusion.

Certified as safe to know,
What is is what they say is so.
Thus they conquer and confuse,
And manipulate the news.

Whoever wants to be the keeper
Climbs a slope that's ever steeper.
He who will not sell his soul
Needn't bother with the role.

Still the lines are long enough
Of those who think they have the stuff
To sell a fable as a fact
And keep their consciences intact.

We see their faces every night
Telling us that black is white.
The paper at the breakfast table
Ought to have a warning label:

"Caution: what you read within
Is doctored with a careful spin.
Lift your eyes and call a halt
If you lack a grain of salt."

I don't know how it got this way.
And it gives me pain to say
We're not a land of liberty
If it's truth that makes us free.

David Martin


Home    Poetry   Poetry Archive 11   Contact