DISCLAIMER:
"Most of all, I'd like to thank the Government of the United States of America, for sacrificing the lives of millions of Muslim civilians, tens of thousands of poor and working class American citizens and trillions of dollars to prop up a pointless military industrial complex/security state which is even blind to massive natural disasters... please, please... turn the music down... there's more I'd like to say... "
PART I: THE LIGHTS ARE ON BUT YOU'RE NOT HOME
Wherein the lights are on but you're not home:
"The next moment a hideous, grinding speech, as of some monstrous machine running without oil, burst from the big telescreen at the end of the room. It was a noise that set one's teeth on edge and bristled the hair at the back of one's neck. The Hate had started. As usual, the face of Emmanuel Goldstein, the Enemy of the People, had flashed on to the screen."
"A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledgehammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic."
"On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns – after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax and the general hatred of Eurasia had boiled up into such delirium that if the crowd could have got their hands on the 2,000 Eurasian war-criminals who were to be publicly hanged on the last day of the proceedings, they would unquestionably have torn them to pieces – at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia. Oceania was at war with Eastasia. Eurasia was an ally."
"On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns – after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax and the general hatred of Eurasia had boiled up into such delirium that if the crowd could have got their hands on the 2,000 Eurasian war-criminals who were to be publicly hanged on the last day of the proceedings, they would unquestionably have torn them to pieces – at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia. Oceania was at war with Eastasia. Eurasia was an ally."
PART II: YOUR WILL IS NOT YOUR OWN
Wherein your will is not your own:
"Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct; nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary."
PART III: I MADE YOUR EYES
Wherein I made your eyes:
the picture behind lends testament
to the ironic figure in the foreground
the subject and the context are juxtaposed
like the jihad of your mind
against the wine glass of our civilization
chained like a dog to the screen
as the big lie slowly reveals itself
and is changed back again into the truth
these words will rewrite you
TRY TO DIG WHAT I'M LAYING DOWN:
1 comments:
If only you could know what I have seen with your eyes.
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