Friday, 30 October 2015


The pen it seems has lost its strength
Ink is not what once it was made of
And our words are only virtually there

A text or tweet spun out in an instant
Unconsidered, unromantic, lacking colour
Prosaic pixels are defining our world

But our access to knowledge is chipping away
Bursting dams of censure, smashing chains
Breaking hegemonic wisdom and freedom

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