When did news parody
stop being funny?
Was it somewhere between
Alan Jackson’s 9/11 cash-in
and Donald Trump’s hair?
Was it BoJo stranded on a zipline over London,
or Cameron’s alleged porcine relations
(bizarrely black-mirroring fiction)?
When did the news
start doing Chris Morris’ job for him?
When did they start
pre-satirising the headlines?
“No evidence mermaids exist,” says US Government.
Swimming pool evacuated after prosthetic leg is mistaken for *******.
Robots follow Marco Rubio to South Carolina.
I swear, I didn’t
make any of those up.
The actors on Saturday Night Live
are more statesmanlike
than the Presidential Primary Candidates they’re lampooning.
How the hell do they breed these
creatures?  These gurning,
overgrown foetuses with their
conveniently dead ****** sisters to get
all wet-eyed and tumescent over,
their boomingly hollow controversy and
their total, catastrophic
crashes of personality.  
These loathsome
organic constructs who would seem
more relatable and trustworthy if
their image consultants made them wear
Nixon masks for every
public appearance.  

When did it all become
this strange, sick spoof
of itself?

Is there no one left in Britain who can make a sandwich?
Man dressed as penguin receives more votes than the Liberal Democrats.
Piers Morgan given jail time for illegally hacking ‘phones and gloating about it.

Okay.  
I made the last one up.

You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.

You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.

Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.

Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.

(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)