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Biography is either masked ball or epitaph. As you find me, so we are.

Friday, 13 July 2012


Translators prove that you’re not me -
Do prisons show us who is free?
Experiments within The Cell
Sought out a cause for human hell.
Zimbardo traced the evil fruits
To situation’s attributes;
But who’s Observer, who’s Observed?
Inside the circle all is curved.
A lone Christina saw The Cross
The men had made. She sensed a loss
Of self control.  It’s ever thus –
The way a Me grows from an Us.
For, from the moment Selves emerge,
They’re swallowed up within the urge
To join the others in a purge
Of weakness.  And so weak, they merge.
The Stanford basement’s here and now.
Look! Check around you.  Notice how
You copy.  Reproduce The Code.
You are The Seed and you’ve been sowed.
Self-preservation is The Rule;
But it was written by a fool.
There is no Self and nowt’s preserved,
And no one gets what is deserved.
There are no prisons but The One
We fail to see.  My rhyme is done.

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