The Fourth Estate

Headlines of the nation
sway in the wind. They
wave through gracious
space and hang on our
neighbors’ flagpole.
We adorn them, those
black print reams
of words and thoughts
that prideful, mount
the helm of the
basking sun.

Headlines read into
many things. They
spell the nation
with urgency,
curving words,
donning false
pretense,
scrambling the
truth and turning
upside down and
inside out; backwards.

Educators and
reporters, actors
cast with severe
clout renounce
their roles as
truthsayers,
become
seekers
of the lie
and peddlers
of deception,
manufacturers
of history.

The elusive, sacred
artist, visionary
and scribe, the
vibrant mirthful
minstrel, creators
of a kind, locked
away their talents,
shunned their
vision and their
voice, released
their lovers
and their love,
sullied beds
with the filth
of promise,
hubris,
vanity,
and wealth—
precious vices
for perspective
force their legs
to part and their
wombs to open
to receive
the jealous
spirits of
the dark.

Through whispers
many, silent chatter
communicate
across the world,
consolidate
the messengers,
centralize
the message heard.
Plant the stewards
of false truth
to shepherd
lies into the
flock. Sign in
perjury and
propaganda,
fiction forced
into reality,
omission’s
sin deceptive
silence. Here’s
a story yet
untold:

Taxed to live is what they do
as debt-slaves use credit
to pay for debt accrued
and cycling with the
days and months,
steadfast as the sun,
the bones of
generations
will have
decayed
before the
promise can
be kept,
and the people
and the nation
sold; our
grandchildren
and their children
awaken to a
land with no
country and
no home.

Life designed
to disengage,
dwindling values
keep passions caged,
nothing left to give
to them, attention’s
deficit our final
wealth. Belief is
not suspended.
Trust is never
questioned.
Malignant
opportunists
bleed deception
in the wake,
reporters run
the gambit,
producers
pull the
strings.

Headlines
smell like coffee,
but age like
obituaries. They
sound the sirens
of the world, and
erase history from
the dead. Headlines
of attention,
headlines of
deception,
headlines
the eyes
the people
see with
as the eyes
of omniscience
probe them,
intimidate
and pry.
The eyes of
the brother
awaiting his
war, the eyes
of destruction,
the eyes of
malfeasance,
the eyes of doubt,
the eyes that
control;
the eyes
of Big Brother
return, an Orwellian
veil shrouded,
ensconced,
and opaque.
The blood of
his family
bleeding through
the pores of every
truthseeker that
knows coincidence
cannot exist in
duality, and
his story revered
served a template
to every pupil
so understanding
would incite
new action
against the
aged and
obsolete
conscience,
and create
resistance
to integrity.

He’s
watching
the world
through
the screen
on his wall.
Wearing
the mask
of the bald
eagle,
spreading
plagues
of hate on
sovereign
wings, he
defiles
the heart
of man.
Behind a
curtain of
red, white
and blue
he uses this
country
as a ruse
to seize the
world, erase
their nations.
America,
the Trojan
Horse!

He’s
watching his
monitors, he’s
studying his
screens,
deciding
what images
to carefully
ween, like
Hitler, he’s
culling
images,
he’s staging
scenes,
deciding
what truth
will literally
be. He will
declare
the gods to
worship,
and the
enemies
to decry.
He will
slander
truthful,
honest men
if his vision
becomes
impaired.
He will create
kingdoms and
dynasties, destroy
freedom and thought;
and impregnate facts
with his selfish
seed. His youth
will know
only what
they
read.

 

 

“The Fourth Estate” was originally written in 2004 and is a piece regarding the poet’s political/social views of the time. The piece is still relevant in today’s socio-political climate. Though limited, this type of poem does make appearances throughout the poet’s career, as he feels artists and poets cannot ignore any part of the human landscape. Whether overt or symbolic, the patriotic poem, or that which utilizes social commentary tempered to political thought, is a constant theme occurring throughout the expanding library of this writer’s work. It is forthcoming in the new collection of poetry, The Vanishing Poet (soon from Virgogray Press). All rights reserved.

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