A poem by: Ben Dunk. 1969.
TAPED TIME IS HERE
Government’s observation has you taped man,
and computes your details world-wide.
The towers and satellites burble in your name;
your whereabouts is known however your hide.
Each country’s pride is a postal-palace,
where faceless minions of ministers
manipulate the levers logging dispraise;
passing suspicious conversations to ‘pouncers.’
Caught is the unsuspecting communicator
living secretly in the backmost-backwoods;
who writes and-or telephones his Mater
with political views and then in walk the Feds.
One day an impatient people arise hostile and destroy
this hated department of world-government
breaking down strong doors to burn personal histories;
securing freedom from subjection and torment.