Saturday, June 20, 2009

Benignly Deceived

Please, regulate me.

I'm a person; I'm a database priority.

Filter in your umbrella controls --

Binary virtue, policies extolled.

Administrate my conscious day

So I can doubt and question, nay,

'Believe' that I'm free

And watch the truth bleed away.


Anonymous said...

Whoa! Shades of 1984, dude.
Odd, that year. I was 24 in 1984 and having read the book several times and watched the not-so-good movie adaption twice, I was quietly and with some trepidation anticipating the actualization of Orwell's social comment. It didn't come to pass...or ... did it?
The government controlled Canadian food guide tells me what to eat. The medical profession tells me that having my children born in a hospital is the safest most logical option. The drug industry instructs me to resist dangerous natural remedies and fight the common ailments of living by ingesting myriad toxic concoctions. The public education system informs me that they and they alone are qualified to teach me and my children. And, the religious system touts that only trained and authorized "set apart" individuals can direct my conscience.
Oh, I believe I am free.
Or, am I actually hemorrhaging freedom?
Cheers… seriously,

Christopher said...


Heh. I didn't see your comment until just now. Sorry about not responding sooner.

You asked, "am I actually hemorrhaging freedom?" I think so. I think the fact that we have Charter Rights instead of indelible freedoms should be a clear enough indication that we hemorrhage our freedom daily. I think the fact that, as Canadians, we don't actually own anything of what we possess, and the government can repossess any and all of our belongings whenever they deem should be an indication that our actual freedom is eclipsed by legislative premiums on that freedom.

Maybe I'm talking out of my ass, I don't know. What I do know is that I constantly feel trapped, even though I live in what is considered to be one of the safest countries in the world. I love living in Canada, but nothing feels actual or truly livable to me, unfortunately. And sadly, there's nothing I can really do about it except write artistic expressions about my experience with the way things are around me.