We invented the systems within which you exist, And created the armies where we insist you enlist, Controlling you as our puppets with our cast iron fist, Denying you any chance to persist or resist.
We constructed your illusions laced with afflictions, Built on alcohol and sugar to become your addictions, Which we manufacture in abundance without any restrictions, To manipulate and influence your deepest convictions.
We removed your conscious choice that’s no longer missed, To the point you cannot even remember the gist, Your brainwashed mind is now numb and dismissed, So you follow our rules with no fate you can twist.
Our media and content become your distractions, With materialistic attractions to seduce your perceptions, Spreading infections to increase your prescriptions, While our monopolist board members toast their deceptions.
But deep underground where the masses are contained, Lies an educated minority who feel unrestrained, Driven by overwhelming desire to expose the unexplained, Awakened and aware with their consciousness regained.
No longer are they fooled by the egocentric state, That’s designed to encourage fear and amplify hate, They will start a new slate with no need to dictate, And create their own world in a new twist of fate.
They know the current system cannot be sustained, And those already trapped in it cannot be retrained, For most have sold their soul laying dormant and detained, It’s the next generation who will live their lives unchained.
Unlike their predecessors they will not take the bait, They will revolt and rebel to make our world great, They will build a new paradigm on which all can create, I just hope they awaken before it’s too late.
by John Michaelson~
#writingforchange#poetry#author Message from John – If you would like to read, connect with, or share more of my poetry and prose, I invite you to check out and follow my author page if it feels right for you, where you will find more of my work that I’ve written to date. You are also welcome to follow the #writingforchange hashtag which I use on all my work across my social media channels. Whenever you want to share my poetry, all I ask is that you always respect copyright and kindly acknowledge me as the original author. I always welcome any feedback and comments you want to share on my work, or any questions you have on my plans and aspirations for #writingforchange using the power of words to change our world for the better to help those in need within our local and global communities, one word at a time.
This great poem by the late, very much lamented, poet and political activist Adrian Mitchell can be applied to any of the wars of recent times, whether in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, or the planned war on Iran. Adrian, who was a committed activist in the anti-war movement, repeatedly revised the text, as lies for new wars were trotted out by the likes of George W Bush and Tony Blair. This video shows the celebrated reading Adrian made on 11 June 1965 at London’s Royal Albert Hall, when the Vietnam war was slaughtering millions in the name of “democracy and “freedom”.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN (TELL ME LIES ABOUT VIETNAM)
I was run over by the truth one day. Ever since the accident I’ve walked this way So stick my legs in plaster Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Heard the alarm clock screaming with pain, Couldn’t find myself so I went back to sleep again So fill my ears with silver Stick my legs in plaster Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Every time I shut my eyes all I see is flames. Made a marble phone book and I carved all the names So coat my eyes with butter Fill my ears with silver Stick my legs in plaster Tell me lies about Vietnam.
I smell something burning, hope it’s just my brains. They’re only dropping peppermints and daisy-chains So stuff my nose with garlic Coat my eyes with butter Fill my ears with silver Stick my legs in plaster Tell me lies about Vietnam.
Where were you at the time of the crime? Down by the Cenotaph drinking slime So chain my tongue with whisky Stuff my nose with garlic Coat my eyes with butter Fill my ears with silver Stick my legs in plaster Tell me lies about Vietnam.
More than a hundred years ago, Rudolf Steiner wrote the following:
” In the future, we will eliminate the soul with medicine. Under the pretext of a ‘healthy point of view’, there will be a vaccine by which the human body will be treated as soon as possible directly at birth, so that the human being cannot develop the thought of the existence of soul and Spirit.
To materialistic doctors, will be entrusted the task of removing the soul of humanity. As today, people are vaccinated against this disease or that disease, so in the future, children will be vaccinated with a substance that can be produced precisely in such a way that people, thanks to this vaccination, will be immune to being subjected to the “madness” of spiritual life. He would be extremely smart, but he would not develop a conscience, and that is the true goal of some materialistic circles.
With such a vaccine, you can easily make the etheric body loose in the physical body. Once the etheric body is detached, the relationship between the universe and the etheric body would become extremely unstable, and man would become an automaton, for the physical body of man must be polished on this Earth by spiritual will. So, the vaccine becomes a kind of arymanique force; man can no longer get rid of a given materialistic feeling. He becomes materialistic of constitution and can no longer rise to the spiritual “. Rudolf Steiner (1861-1925) Tagged spirituality, consciousness, anthroposophy, rudolf-steiner, philosophy. Posted on 23/11/2025 by The Hard Bard
sun showers danced like dye darker green shadows light on green leaves played bamboo golden light organ pipes wooden 'n' olden down finickey halls shadows leaped like lizards scaling flower eyes trailing random vines tales that curl-ee-cued beans that hung green light berries butterfly's grasp upside down in pain lovely in their rapture golden dust golden winged eels slither apart bleeding life's light on to the ground 'n' quiver down golden light corny little yellow horns blew petals stem riddles bees ride fat honey legged drips center pulp splinters her flowered eye a legend on a rock she scribbles a dew drop pops up in the 'sun dawn dance'
Lacewing views oblivion In the dew- planeted threads of Charlotte’s house the waves wish to be iced the shores wish to be warm the longest local road is a frozen Styx and the raven thinks he’s Charon carrying black the carrion-bird cackles a claxon for the silent maelstrom of emergencies craneflies waltz in cathedrals of frost sharpening the transient infinities of mucus in winter the postman delivers gulls disemboweled on the thorns of slow trauma in winter the policemen place live coals in their boots which throb like the eyes of a baby cold and cribbed and quacking in a chemist’s dripping doorway in winter the cows gather in grey hollows to tell tales of terror their dreams of bolt-guns conveyor- belts,the smiling of knives and the rumble of exhaust in winter things kill other things this winter gives
This morning being rather young and foolish I borrowed a machine gun my father had left hidden since the war, went out, and eliminated a number of small enemies. Since then I have not returned home.
This morning swarms of police with tracker dogs wander about the city with my description printed on their minds, asking: ‘Have you seen him, He is seven years old, likes Pluto, Mighty Mouse and Biffo the Bear, have you seen him, anywhere?’
This morning sitting alone in a strange playground muttering You’ve blundered You’ve blundered over and over to myself I work my next move but cannot move; the tracker dogs will sniff me out, they have my lollipops.
(Ed: I read this poem out to members of the Wardown Park Poetry Group)
I’m gonna tell you fascists You may be surprised The people in this world Are getting organized You’re bound to lose You fascists bound to lose
Race hatred cannot stop us This one thing we know Your poll tax and Jim Crow And greed has got to go You’re bound to lose You fascists bound to lose
All of you fascists bound to lose: I said, all of you fascists bound to lose: Yes sir, all of you fascists bound to lose: You’re bound to lose! You fascists: Bound to lose!
People of every color Marching side to side Marching ‘cross these fields Where a million fascists dies You’re bound to lose You fascists bound to lose!
I’m going into this battle And take my union gun We’ll end this world of slavery Before this battle’s won You’re bound to lose You fascists bound to lose!
Biographer of the Beats and co-founder of the counter-culture newspaper, International Times, Barry Miles joins Camila Oliveira in conversation about how, through Zapple Records which he set up with John Lennon and Paul McCartney, he came to record Allen Ginsberg’s settings of the poetry of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and of Experience. In this fascinating discussion, he also reminisces as to how – with Ginsberg and filmmaker Barbara Rubin – he was instrumental in helping to bring about the International Poetry Incarnation at the Royal Albert Hall in 1965.
DISSENTERS VOICE 