The Slog
When the World turned then to ravings, Past and Future took an s;
Little money, no invention – more attention paid to telly.
Sovereigns stole our savings and the citizens earned less:
less wisdom in the cerebrum, more junk inside the belly.
Derivative – a term suggesting ‘stolen from the past’ -
was pluralised to stitch up every innocent with sutures.
The future too was gambled, an unguided missile cast -
a random roulette ball upon a wheel of unknown futures.
This hail of mad plurality, this tampering with Time
invaded human privacy – our own eternal Now.
And psycho breeders marvelled at their perfect paradigm
which fed upon our money like a ravenous cash-cow.
This rave new world’s insanity starved decency to death,
Imprisoned our free will and stole the wages of our thrift.
It strangled every liberty, embezzled every breath -
Set fire to every lifeboat, left the ship of State to drift.
And yes, we surely know the means it used to kidnap voices:
no ransom asked, just thicker walls to damp their protests down.
A learning curve was hijacked to proclaim no hope, no choices,
and deeper seas created where the gullible might drown.
But where was the Resistance and the legal aid we craved,
the long arm of the law, and our defenders in hard times?
There was no loud alarm when burglars stole our monies saved -
only amateur pretenders selling silly nursery rhymes.
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