My pages have left
Their marks
Across the globe
And across time
As the press had
Left its mark upon
My pages devoured
First by the literate
Man and dainty woman
Spreading knowledge
Rumor and farce
Across the land
Opening minds
Changing hearts
…
Once I had meaning
And changed the face
Of the modern world.
The learn-ed learned
Wrote for me
On me.
Kings and Queens
Feared my penned
Pals and reporters
Alike.
Then forward across
The decades
Leaps and bounds were
Made
And the Printing press
Made more refined
And further across
The globe I went
Black letters
Smudging finders
Wetted to turn
My pages
The ink not yet dry
Nations rose
And fell
Societies
Careers
Science
Religion
Riots
Riches
Were made
Or broken
On my word alone.
As my words
Lead the world
Into greater education
Then so forward
Did the world go
That miracles
Occurred.
First Cars
Then Planes
Worse still
Radio
Then TV
And movies.
The world moved
Faster than
Writers could write
Upon me…
I see my death.
It is coming
And I built it
Myself.
It's unfair for me
To keep going
As I have been
Killing trees
So I can live
The endless cycle
Of consuming
Living
Dying
Recycling.
City by city
Place by place
My papers
Are doing worse
Than fading
They are disappearing.
But let me tell you
What is being lost
A little less well
Known or thought of,
Warmth, padding
For those who sleep
On the streets,
When no logs
Can be found
To burn at night
In the barrels
I keep small children
And their mothers
Alive by paper
Embers…
Floating as ash
Like prayers
Sent to heaven
Hoping that
Tomorrow night
Will be warm enough
Not to be found
Frozen to death
By the beat cop.
And only I know
Lain beneath them
As they pass from
The world
And know
That their names
Won't find their
Way into my
Obituaries.
Because,
Their passing
Isn't news worthy,
As the death
Of me…
The newspaper.
