Everything is propaganda now,
The world adores Edward Bernays,
And who wants blunt truth, anyhow,
Unpalatable things aren’t in these days.
So where to look for honesty and find
Something like it, close, perhaps akin?
Something that speaks plainly to the mind,
Does not attempt to get beneath the skin.
Not the news, which is the left or right,
Dressed up as fact
Like some first try transvestite,
Unconvincing, yet so boldly mincing
Words one wishes to believe,
Out of good manners, training, tact.
But in the adverts in between,
That maybe packaged, wrapped
In all the clever lies, so clear and neat,
That we admire and then pretend to swallow,
Here is honest, clear deceit,
Genuinely worthless, empty, hollow.
