Poetry – The Death of Democracy

The Death of Democracy

So on this New Year’s Day

I’ll raise a cup to democracy

And drink to its death.

For the whole idea

Was strangled

Ere it could ever draw a breath.

Even as the midwives struggled

To get the babe to breathe

There were those who lurked,

In shadows, seeking to deceive.

For in the grubby grasp of fake news

Where the media holds sway.

Those who own that message

Control who has a say.

With cunning, guile and transparency

They throw lies into the fray

To ensure that in this day and age

It’s them that gets their way!

When money talks

It buys the truth

That everybody believes.

Those who own the media

Set out the case

For the robber thieves.

Democracy never stood a chance –

Fingers tightened round its throat.

Now we watch the bloated bankers

Sit around and gloat.

Without the truth…