There is a place Where standardised thought Will lead, if you care to go. Why so few see, where the path leads on Is hard to say, or know. The road takes little effort As it slopes and twists and winds. But when you arrive, you'll know the place; The container of abandoned minds. Its walls are sheer consensus Their surface, entirely flat They almost seem to absorb the light They're so utterly grey and matt. And all the sounds are deadened The many voices, stilled For the Container of Abandoned Minds Is crushingly, shockingly filled. Its inhabitants are all relieved From the strain of a complex life, Where grace and suffering mend the world And receive the surgeon's knife. No healing there, Through pain or joy They are offered this instead; That all the world become the same And the living obey the dead. There is a place Where standardised thought Will lead, if you care to go. The container of abandoned minds Don't say you didn't know.
The title of this poem is taken from the wonderful essay by Paul Hogget, The Institutionalisation of Shallowness, in his book Partisans in an Uncertain World.