we act according to unwritten scripts and rules, and as such lose that individuality and ability to analyse
Life in a democratic country
Questions first, shoot later
It is the government that is in denial
Don't question it
Don't even think about it
Don't have time for querying anything
Brush it off the shoulders
Like this morning's crumbs
Sticking to your lapels persistently
Doggedly, fixed in the back of the mind
Like a blow-up raft in windy seas,
Thrown up at inopportune times
Camouflage the issues
To match the mundane décor of truth
Throw heart and soul into
Pursuits less demanding,
Plug the holes you feel
With ignorance, something of substance
So fingers of blame do not
Turn upon you and guilt
Is not allowed into this equation.
Let them talk about it,
Have a good old chinwag
And discuss over drinks
People fade with every passing second
But no matter,
It's always been done this way
And what good is tradition if it's not
Followed letter by letter,
Letting days just tick over,
Caught up in tape scarlet and wide,
Wrapping scandal like a present
To be opened on special occasions.
Agendas underground,
Pursued with haste
Whilst protocols delay and dupe
But there's so much to do!
Details to fix, cheques to write,
Cardboard to consume
So even love is scheduled,
A valued transaction sitting
Alongside that ultra-important deadline.
So emerge untouched,
Leave it all in others' hands
To debate, decide, define
What we don't know can't hurt us, after all
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 816 times
Written on 2006-09-21 at 15:50
Tags Behaviour  Society 
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Diversion
"Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to that arrogant oligarchy who merely happen to be walking around"- Gilbert K. ChestertonLife in a democratic country
Questions first, shoot later
It is the government that is in denial
Don't question it
Don't even think about it
Don't have time for querying anything
Brush it off the shoulders
Like this morning's crumbs
Sticking to your lapels persistently
Doggedly, fixed in the back of the mind
Like a blow-up raft in windy seas,
Thrown up at inopportune times
Camouflage the issues
To match the mundane décor of truth
Throw heart and soul into
Pursuits less demanding,
Plug the holes you feel
With ignorance, something of substance
So fingers of blame do not
Turn upon you and guilt
Is not allowed into this equation.
Let them talk about it,
Have a good old chinwag
And discuss over drinks
People fade with every passing second
But no matter,
It's always been done this way
And what good is tradition if it's not
Followed letter by letter,
Letting days just tick over,
Caught up in tape scarlet and wide,
Wrapping scandal like a present
To be opened on special occasions.
Agendas underground,
Pursued with haste
Whilst protocols delay and dupe
But there's so much to do!
Details to fix, cheques to write,
Cardboard to consume
So even love is scheduled,
A valued transaction sitting
Alongside that ultra-important deadline.
So emerge untouched,
Leave it all in others' hands
To debate, decide, define
What we don't know can't hurt us, after all
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 816 times
Written on 2006-09-21 at 15:50
Tags Behaviour  Society 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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