Like rampant moss
trials the pavements of Bashirs
rancid with lies poisons aspersions
conjectures misinformation and disinformation
white washed walls offering refractions to hued stooges
unfit for purpose but always the bred fodders to take the fall

and it went to plan
in year eighty eight when love betrayed
it was to be cut off the head and that body falls
only to realize some minds are so small they offered nowt
that pillar graced solid foundation even when shaken and stirred
some bring more to table while some merely came to dance and eat

the moss Bashirs grew
chalky soil knows no guilt rhythms'
back to the Black Ball casting operation
a hapless innocent made a stooge drip fed in group think
the party turns Dating Agency and minds readers in fake romance
Slave Traders becomes Big Brother and all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed—


Did they not say in Dystopia
“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.”