Here is today's poem for the 30 day challenge. Day 13 and not even half over.
Murdoch and the Dragon – A Tragedy
Sing of the great man of gossip, Murdoch.
Sing of a tale of woe and sorrow. He,
the man, who spat upon power with contempt.
Sing of him who found the well of blood
the public, that dragon, loves to gulp from. Sing,
of how he pored more and more from the buckets
of titillation and black ink, and images to quench
the dragon’s thirst. The dragon fire, Murdoch blew.
The seduce by sleaze, he founded his kingdom
as knights against the elites. His power grew.
The public’s thirst grew, more blood was needed.
His stories told of private lives and he whipped
the powers under him. Three families later,
and movies, news, TV, and Iinternet, the wiley fox
commanded presidents and prime ministers.
The bowed to him, for gossip had made him King.
His minions had their numbers, their phone numbers.
Each knew to bow to the man. Palin, Blair, Bush
they all kissed his ring for his was alchemy
of boobs, right wing and a faux outrage that fed
and forged the public opinion. Such was the King.
But the public wanted more of gossip to feed
the blood lust. Gives us more than politicians,
for we know they squeal for vanity’s appeal.
Give us more than peeking at celebrities drinking
and parading in their undies. Give us more
than outrage, give us blood. The dragon
grew and grew beyond his control.
Then he fed it the life of innocents. Missing
children, worried parents, morning parents,
and the dragon turn. It wanted now the blood
the man, Murdoch. Old and weak he fought
but the dragon talk and shouted for his blood.
He gave it the News of Week, and still it
Wanted more blood. He gave it friends, editors
And colleagues, and still it went after him.
Soon he will feed it his son, but low, the dragon wanted
more."You are the elite and I want your blood now."
the dragon shouted. It soon will feast and tear
the flesh of the old man, Murdoch.