Brainwashed Oppression

Found Poetry Taken from John Wyndham’s The Chrysalids in pages 5, 6, 11, 15, 16, 17, 18, 20, 27

The bank was no puzzle to me then: it was far too big for me to think of as a thing that men could have built.

Within the house, life centred as was the local custom, upon the large living room was also the kitchen. The house was a great deal smaller than my home, a cottage. It felt friendly.

Waknuk-then undeveloped, almost frontier country.

At a point where the woods had lapped up the side of the bank and grown across it scrambled down on to a narrow, little-used track.

Waknuk it had become;          an orderly, law-abiding, God-respecting community.

I regarded the country there as foreign-not so much hostile, as outside my territory.

IN PURITY OUR SALVATION

It was not the Badlands, but

the Fringes

that gave us trouble.

The mysterious Fringes where nothing was dependable, and where, to quote my father, ‘the Devil struts his wide estates, and the laws of God are mocked.’

WATCH THOU FOR THE MUTANT

‘What is a mutant?’

 ‘A thing accursed in the sight of God and man.”