The Idiot Writer

There’s an idiot writer in our society.

I shan’t take names,

They’re few, and in many forms but they’re everywhere.

The idiot writer has a pen in one hand and pessimism in the other.

On their head lies a gold crown of pride.

Sharp, equipped, goal driven – the idiot writer is smart,

And tells you what you need to know.

Somehow, although you don’t really agree,

No-no they insist. This is the reality.

With great power comes great responsibility.

(I’m sorry but Tobey Maguire is the only true Spiderman)

I wouldn’t call their power ‘great’ – but it’s power, nonetheless.

Power that could be harnessed for the better.

The idiot writer crusades around town,

Playing judge and calling out people for their crimes,

(Or perhaps the real idiot is quietly playing with string puppets)

Even a child can spot that – dal me kuch kaala hai.

But the idiot writer thinks his eyes are the clearest,

Let’s give him a broomstick and a dustpan to clear some of the mess

Shall we?

That’s not my job! He huffs and walks away

Did I say their pockets were empty?

Not all – some have the cunning to stick their palms out in the right places

Words, unfortunately as beautiful as they are,

Can be twisted and turned to misrepresent the truth.

They’re not all idiots, of course!

But if you’re given a box of paint pots and all you see is black,

Then you, my friend (lol jk), are one of them.

This piece, some time back, would have been an ode to the idiot writer,

Thankfully, life has a way of knocking you out of your delusions.