My Dog Errol

'A JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR'

009 • Press Barons

I pity all those who aborted
My plan, unexpectedly thwarted,
‘To succour the needy
With blood from the greedy’
Which not one Press Baron supported.

Well maybe one Press Baron did support it, but regrettably our metre doesn’t readily permit that level of precision.

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1 Logic lies in flames, sense evaporates. Thinking-caps melt, and untruths threaten in a toxic tide.

2 The drowning sleeper grasps in vain for reason, yet wakens with a hand all wreathed in rhyme.

3 For it is an Age of Nonsense.

4 Arise, Richard, blurt your quantum of twaddle. Each morning for one year, purge forth the nightmare’s poison.

5 Blurt a mosaic map of our deluded times.

6 Or rather, hereby chart your inner wilderness.

Reader, let your companionship be my troubled comfort. Sustain my trial with the kindness of your comments. And urge me on.