1984: The Vodka on the table, ice by the side.

The reporter writes, the machines whirl, the editor decides.

Paparazzi chase the news, the news flee in blacked out Mercedes.

We buy the newest edition and let the coffee percolate. Artaxerxes,

Would kill for a slice of this publicity. We are the times, we are the age.

We unearthed Iran-Contra, we drank from the fountains at Water-gate.

2012: Now it’s fifteen minutes of fame for everybody, everybody and their grandma.

What tidings do you bring today young Mr. Nobody?

What do we tell the world we heard you say? This era will not go softly,

Until everyone has had their say.

Until that day everyone will let their pen have its way. 

We have overthrown Kings and dictators, we are all complicit.

We shaped the news, we gossiped with cans of Bud within our digits.

And rolled the mouse over to websites with pictures of the big cats,

Fallen, desolate, once-strong men with partially weighted scales in their hands.

We are snitches, we are beautiful, we are all rats and we are the age.

We are the new dictators, we are the new Queens. Who will overthrow us and blot our page?  

(c) Iroaganachi Nnamdi Christopher. 17th June, 2012.