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
scottishmomus 