Eric Blair got misplaced
It was a bright cold day
in April, and the clocks struck
thirteen as he looked
to modern classics
and accepted his ignorant weakness.
Despite the rearranging of words
the fact remained
he had taken a totalitarian
this was not the romance section.
He felt the weight of paper,
for a future ownlife. Narrated
warnings, dreaded overall collectivism.
Got lost in statistical sanity
of stamping boots
and learning lines of lust and guilt.
He recited 101 ways to seduce
propaganda, whispered Newspeak doctrines
to amorous party members.
Plotted a surreptitious fling with
surveillance and found room
for Julia. The truth
passion is freedom.
Dystopia is a curious affair.
They may have watched
but they never saw the double truth
that in reality he yearned
to write a love poem.
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