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Parallel Universes
There are two worlds I feel:
The perceived and the real.
The TV morning show;
The blaring radio.
They tell what's right and wrong,
In lecture or in song,
Of social attitudes,
With lies and platitudes.
Of how we all should think;
They don't admit a chink
Of light upon their views,
Or what they call 'The News'.
The information age
Has locked us in a cage,
And we are daily fed
Our fill of mouldy bread.
A half baked meal of seed
From cultivated greed,
To keep us comatose
And fleece us while we doze.
We're told that all is well
But there's a sickly smell
Around the streets and curbs
From city to the burbs
A shady world that's real
Where darkly strangers deal;
Our ways they would erode
And chart a different road.
Things are not what they seem;
The country's in a dream,
As the invaders steal
The universe that's real.
poem
by
Dennis N. O'Brien
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