Dystopia Redux
Orwell’s State spied on its citizens
from a screen
in every room. The TV had to be on,
the woman
or man within sight of its
Panopticon, within ear
of its newspeak. Every day,
uniform-clad, they
chanted slogans together, making the
lies resonate.
Poor bastards, I thought, not prescient. Today,
we have screens in every corner of
every room,
carrying them with us, letting the
pseudo enter us
like Bilharzia parasites as we
submerge ourselves
in their contaminated flow. Like a
schistosome,
our new fearsome leader, our own
Caligula, plants
hooks in our guts, spills his
clotting worms.
Whack at his hydra-head, and he has
you publicly
flayed, makes you eat your own
tongue.
As his goons work you over, the
earth itself,
stripped and disfigured, mirrors
your suffering.
Where is our Praetorian Guard, our
Praziquantel?
--Devon Balwit
Bio: Devon Balwit is a writer/teacher from Portland, OR. Her
political poems have appeared in The New Verse News, Poets Reading the News,
Redbird Weekly Reads, Rise-Up Review, Rat's Ass Review, The Rising Phoenix
Review, Mobius, What Rough Beast, and more.
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