PSYOPS on Society

When the Media Papers sing the same song,

When the scrolling banners flash in unison,

When the music swells with drama,

And the story grips the heart,

Pouring fear into the veins of the everyman—

We yield.

 

We relinquish our control,

Our thoughts,

Our lives.

 

"But it’s all TRUE!"

They tell us—

No,

They feed us.

Twist the spoon.

Fill the trough.

And we, docile,

Consume.

 

Stay grounded.

Stay awake.

Stay free, they said.

 

Yet, are you free?

When every story is a thread

In a web of distraction—

Destruction.

A narrative designed

To veer your gaze from what lies beyond.

 

You believe you think.

You believe you choose.

But who writes the questions

Before you even consider the answers?

 

It goes on...

 

Fear as a compass,

Grief as a leash,

Hope as a cage.

 

They’re clever,

These invisible architects.

A shadow script:

Your will bending

To hands you cannot see.

 

Yet you’re awake?

Are you grounded?

Are you free?

 

Or are you lost in the second echo,

The endless reverberation

Of dissent commodified—

Resistance sold as rebellion,

Compliance disguised as courage.

 

You see what they want.

You believe what they want.

And what of this very verse?

Is this truth, or another layer

In the endless maze of illusion?

 

Could the wake-up call

Be the sweetest lullaby?

 

Who is the manipulator,

And who is the manipulated?