Is this the end of all reason?
End of democracy season?
Where critics are tried for treason?
Unstuck beyond cohesion?
Assange says we’re last of the free.
The last to choose who we can be,
It’s death of the concept of me,
A I writes our new history.
Now, as the planet is burning,
I still have a certain yearning,
For days before machine learning,
Where ink filled pages are turning.
Governments give themselves access
To all our data in practice,
Feed minds with fake news in excess,
Breed ignorance of their praxis.
Is this the last throw of the dice?
We must become lions not mice,
Not enough to say “Please be nice,”
Somehow we must loosen their vice.
When nothing is quite what it seems,
Where tyrants manipulate dreams,
And castles are built of ice creams,
We can’t hear the most silent screams.
Perhaps it’s a little too late,
Maybe there’s too much on our plate,
Come, gather the good and the great,
One last chance, keep open the gate.
Harry Rogers, In The Red Bedroom, 23rd August 2021.