The Media Is His God

He won't fight those
Who take his stand
Make no mistake
He'll take all he can.

His rod is fear 
And his path is fame.
All  he does is lame.
He passes blame 
As we go up in flames.

He can only hear power,
He watches for every hour.

To have a nice day 
He's out of my way
I don't watch his play.

He is irrelevant. 
No love is evident.
Love's not there.
Not where I care.

My life is peaceful.
He's not useful.
He's in the dust bin,
Where he's always been.

Nothing to say.
He always 
Has his way.

I never bother 
To see 
What he totters.

It is just 
So much waving.
I see  
He is craving.

Logic and fact  not his tact.
Not something  I'll attack.

I'm just laying back.
Someday I'll hear a crack,
And I'll turn back.

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