Trashed

Two hours to muse

And trash, peruse.

Mags that dish the dirt.

Callous words and pictures,

Designed to cut and hurt.

 

Celebrities, I know not names,

Their efforts grant

Esteem and fame

And public humiliation.

 

Her hair’s a mess,

Look at her dress,

What a fright she looks!

Women mostly, though

Some men, warrant

Inclusion in these books.

 

I never see these mags at all

Except when hair needs gutting

Colour, style and, all the while,

Not just my hair gets cutting.

 

I know that some seek publicity,

Any type at all,

So, fair game seems to be the name

Of reporters; a free-for-all.

 

Rebuke and trash,

Cameras flash,

Perhaps they’re photoshopped.

I’m just so glad

That I’m not one whose name

Is lifted and then dropped.

 

An awful life,

Though some may think

Fame is worth the fortune,

But picked and prodded,

Talked about

Would be my cup of poison.

 

Mr Wilde was wrong.

 

Video reading Trashed

Reflect

He’ll ponder,

She’ll reflect,

They’ll wonder,

May inspect

Lost moments

Of neglect.

Words used

Deject.

Time passing

Will respect,

Perceptions

Can deflect,

Transgressions

Must reject,

Apologies

Now abject.

New beginnings

We expect,

Renewed life

Takes effect,

Comprehension

Perfect.