Manufactured Consent by Siobhan Elvis Atkins

I CALL FOR CALM, cried the old king.

You people cost too much,

you wear out too quickly

and die too soon.

Why is it, I beseech you?

Do I not offer you a good life?

But king we must toil while the water flows and birds fly free.

Do I not reward this with healthy rations?

But sovereign, that food is unsustainable and unhealthy.

It’s true I offer the finest apothecaries to tend to your ailments?

But king, they invent new diseases of the body and mind.

I give you shelter, do I not?

But for it we sign a death pledge, oh ruler.

Do I not offer you diversions?

But emperor, these numb us and peddle us fear.

Ho hum, I educate your children, this is true, no?

But king, it is revisionist in its teaching.

Do I not give you your voice?

But sire, you offer us shills and the disappeared also.

Confound it, do I not pray to god for your very souls?

But king, we always knew right from wrong.

Do I not give you free vote?

But sire, ’tis a choice of a two headed serpent.

Well, do I not protect you from our enemies?

But they bleed as we do, my liege.

Did I not draw up a contract which you signed?

But king, it is a manufactured consent.


A quick google search shows that Siobhan has had her poetry and asemic writing published in various places.  She likes walking with her dogs.  She doesn’t like writing bios.

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