Monday, February 23, 2009

Poem (ish thing)

Slaves.
Screaming, “1984!”
“GET OUT!”
He jumped over the electric fence, and was shot.
“LIFE!”
Shot.

Cubicle #7.
The Johnson project.
“Big bucks!” Boss said.

Twenty convicts in chains walked around the inside of the fence.
His dead body lied outside.
It laid,
A reminder.
A grin was on his face.

A boy burned his papers.
Went outside, jumped over the white picket fence,
and ran.
Kept running.
Of course he came back, he had too.
Or at least, he thought he did.
Parents forced him to get his friend,
to photocopy the papers.
The boy cried as he worked that night.

Johnson project was coming along well.
INSANITY!
Pushed up against the wall.
Throwing eraser caps into Cubicle #6
The bobble head watched cautiously.
He screamed for life!
He ran for the window,
and crashed through the glass.
The wind felt good on his face.
Saved.
Condemned.
To a lack of life.
To jail.

The boy leapt on the table.
He sang, “JUMP!”
Scolded.
1984
Eight chapters
A pencil
Paper.
His chains.





I'm a stylistic writer. If this is so incoherent you can't understand tell me. Also, I can explain it if you want.

1 comment:

Michelle said...

Not bad for a Billy Boo..but then again...bad enough.
And to think you were " gifted" ...and you are now with Guy.