Eyes: But if they don’t use that breather, then their world is flooded
With slogans and pictures, planned
To disarm and disinform, to daze and control, a studied
Leading of the bland by the bland.
Head: The Pied Piper of Hamelin in green Rio’s clearing mists
Had met his oracular antitype,
Who gave the last word on lifestyle for consumer absolutists:
‘Don’t fall for the corporate hipe!’
Eyes: The language of the North-South dialogue. I get the gist:
End the manufacture of dreams
And save the planet! Don’t dreams avail the propagandist
To promote his doom-laden themes?
Head: Words are the spirit of democracy, dreams but the ghost!
True dialogue recognizes the nuance,
Lost in the slickness of broadcasting and producers’ boast,
Of face-to-face talking the eschewance.
Eyes: For the meeting of minds I admit that all media’s uncouth -
The Internetted have nothing to say -
But give whatever meaning to social space, truth
Without love will contend all day.
Head: Consumption (our delight) and survival (their need) will embrace
To a tongue of uncoloured observanda;
But there’s no meeting of minds without defence of fair trade’s case,
But a twining to whips of propaganda.¹