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I dream in sanguine

crippled 'pon the demise

of paupers.



Shackled to my seat,

unable to believe

this is reality.



Wake me up,

Oh someone wake me up.



Pour water 'pon me,

pinch me,

slap me,

kick me awake,

I've slept enough,

tis more then I can take.



It's science fiction come alive,

wreaking havoc before my eyes.



Oh won't someone please wake me?

Before I die in my sleep.



Joining Orwell for a cup of tea.

COMMENTS

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xxEmaeraldxx
18:53 Dec 27 2010

"BOO" are you awake now? or still dreaming of Orwell's tea?

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POST COMMENT

Mother Gaia and your tears;



The weeping ages



...of the ocean,



left in pain.



Your tears,



...their not in vain,



Yet your crying will consume us.



The parasites, they leach your blood;



they sap your life and your spirit,



your beauty turns to wrinkles



...and your wrinkles melt the ice;



immersing your body in a bath



made of your tears.



We stand above you,



Yet we are below you,



your tears of sorrow make us wet,



they make us drown,



yet few can feel your tears



...and your sorrow.



Mother Gaia, spare your tears



...fore there would be nothing to cry about



If the fleas were gone.



I pray for enlightenment for us all,



so we'll realize your pain and your suffering



...and be grateful to you for the first time in centuries.

Oh the horror!

The pestilence of the ivory flies,

gliding down the wind canal,

feasting 'pon the grass,

till there's nothing left;

but a blank canvas.



Oh the sneezing air, we breathe.

the sinus poison wrought,

stealing warmth within our hearts,

corrupting frozen thoughts.



What brush can fix this canvas?

What thermo reads the fall?

What shelter saves our frozen skulls

...from the onslaught of the ivory flies?



Tis the end,

the bitter sweet caress of summer;

the violet roses I have grown,

smothered by this ashen canvas,

stealing warmth, replaced with cold;

...oh so very cold,

frozen tear drops do no justice

...to this cold.

The type of cold I've never known.



With a side of pestilence,

the invasive curse blankets us all.

I scream in terror

...as my woolen coat is swamped with flies;

those ivory flies

which invade our world and steal our warmth.



...To the detriment of the public's laughter,

I shriek in terror,

yet those laughing voices mock me with indifference.



What do they know that I do not?