Charlotte Dec 4

In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is
you.

I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your
moves.

I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.

I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.

And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.

Maybe,
I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and

I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.

Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.

I want to study you,  
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.

Vexren4000 Dec 2

Everyone hold their phone,
Being tracked by coporate,
Government,
And big brother,
Giving Facebook their information willingly,
One day,
Heed my words,
You will no longer like,
Your phone.

©BAS

Adele Nov 8

I can hear them. There is not one, but might be hundreds of them lurking behind these rickety wood walls.

He is watching. The party has always been watching. I can control my thoughts. Cogito ergo sum. This is my world, no one can touch me. These are my thoughts, my heart beats for what is good for me. My hands scrawling, my brain is just scribbling.

Yet, I’ve known from the start that I am a dead man.

I didn’t commit adultery, I followed them. I am alive, I can feel my heart racing. My blood all over my body... reminds me why I’m here. To survive and live, yet I am still a dead man.

I am no mute, but I can’t speak. While writing this I can picture my hands and feet with shackles, wounds of torture. I’ve been always a dead man.

The prole doesn’t know. They need to know. They should stop listening or watching the telescreen. They should strive to dig the Oldspeak.

Oh, right. Who dares to doublethink against a totalitarian regime anyway?

The guns are always on their hands. The war is always going. It’s always here. The past... is always here. We don’t see it, but it’s here! There’s nowhere to run or hide, the world tried.

I will be the next unperson, vaporising in the history of Oceania. They won’t remember. They’ll try not to remember. We are a nobody. Winston was right. I can feel the boot stamping on my face. This is the future.

My voice... is a thought crime, will never be accepted in this society.

I am a dead man.

I am ready... the Thought Police has been always watching me. The INGSOC. Big Brother. I will never love him!

But I am ready to be trap in the place where there is no darkness. I am ready... for the Ministry of Love.

I won’t ever, ever love Big Brother!

I do not care, for I am already a dead man!

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

• Big Brother- the face of the Party, the leader behind the great power. The best part is that we never come to confirm his actual existence. He might not even be real. Maybe the Party just hired an intimidating-looking male model to make those posters. The face of the Party, Big Brother acts as reassurance and a trustworthy entity for many (his name is warm and fuzzywarm and fuzzy and easy to embrace). Yet, he is also your biggest enemy and threat – if you are one of the criminals (he is watching your every move).

• Cogito ergo sum- Renee Descartes, the famous philosopher, used that to prove his own existence. It literally means, "I think; therefore, I am." He claimed that his ability to form thoughts made him a real, living, human being.


• Doublethink- the acceptance of two contradictory ideas or beliefs at the same time.

• INGSOC- "Ingsoc" means "English Socialism." The "Ing-" is based on the pronunciation of "English" and "-soc" on "socialism."


• Oceania - The super state in which protagonist Winston Smith dwells. It is believed to be composed of the Americas, the British Isles (called "Airstrip One" in the novel), Iceland, Australia, New Zealand, Polynesia, and Southern Africa below the River Congo.

• Ministry of Love- The Ministry of Love (or Miniluv in Newspeak) serves as Oceania's interior ministry. It enforces loyalty to Big Brother through fear, buttressed through a massive apparatus of security and repression, as well as systematic brainwashing


• Oldspeak- normal English usage as opposed to technical or propagandist language


• Prole- a shortening of the word proletarian, a term for the working class.

• Telescreen- a wall-mounted electronic device that doubles as a television and a surveillance camera. Used by the Thought Police to monitor the citizens.


• Thoughtcrime- even more serious offense than committing an actual crime: It's the act of thinking about committing a crime. You have thoughts that conflict with the Party line, like thinking "Big Brother is ungood.”

• Thought Police- a group of people with totalitarian views on a given subject, who constantly monitor others for any deviation from prescribed thinking

• Unperson- someone who has been vaporized. Vaporization is when a person is secretly murdered and erased from society, the present, the universe, and existence. Such a person would be taken out of books, photographs, and articles so that no trace of them is found in the present anywhere – no record of them would be found.


• Winston Smith- a fictional character and the protagonist of George Orwell's 1949 novel Nineteen Eighty-Four.

-INSPIRED BY GEORGE ORWELL’s 1984-

(a life-changing recommended read)
Svode Oct 21

Oldspeak:
Save me from this government,
which envelops the land.
Which doesn't give me freedom,
or help my weary hand.

Newspeak:
I'm saved in Oceania,
which is doublegood; much nonwasted land.
BB unstruggles workers,
BB helps unwear hands.

A group of friends and I wanted to know how a short poem might be impacted by being translated into Newspeak from 1984. This was mostly for fun

Nibiru crosses and threatens a world,

as does the strength within me,

This cowardly bully,

This bullied frightened child,

leaving a trail of hats pants and socks,

as secretive as I have been,

I have always ached to be seen,

held as though I were cherished,

well met,
nurtured,
nourished,

I have been an island,

a granite mountain,

a billion miles from all that exists,

a flower, seed tuber,

complete and utter nut,

in a crack in the ground,

a crack in a wall,

pot puddle and rut,

shriveled through drought grateful for glut,

I have made patterns,

left tracks,

a litter bug choking on the edge of a verge,

Terrified of being me,

every urge,

struggling for breath,

drowning in despair,

gasping in pure excitement,

at the prospect of being free,

Nibiru crosses,

this is it,

believe you me.

Aye,

I,

captain of my ship,

searching for others like me,

who leave their own patterns,

signposted in the matrix,

all of us men women and children,

harming,

hurting,

ourselves and others.

each other,

terrified of being rejected,

attracting attention as much as we can,

constantly aware of a feeling that terrifies us,

due to it's power,

it causes our stomachs to churn,

with pure excitement,

it has been very well wrapped,

protected,

kept safe,

and we know that no harm can come to it,

we know it is indestructable,

beautiful,

vibrant,

eternal,

we know that it is ours,

and ours alone,

that when we connect,

we create living worlds,

inhabited by others creating theirs.

So why are we fighting?

Complying to rules that cause harm,

we must stop fighting,

complying,

creating harmful realities,

wherever we are,

whatever our situation,

it is not our natural state,

this precious gift we have,

this love we hold,

is ours and ours alone,

ours to give,

to accept,

however we may wish,

we must now take full ownership,

full responsibility,

drive it,

ride it,

fly it,

loose it free to roam,

Nibiru is crossing,

Our love is coming home.

Mouthpiece Oct 2015

Life's a beach
And then you die;
Your privacy's breached,
But you've nothing to hide.
Their argument's weak
And you still take their side.
Why is it that each
Time they further occupy
Our lives, there's not a peep--
No matter how humongous the lie?
Instead we continue to sleep-
Walk and push revolution aside.
If you care not for secrets to keep,
Don't open your mouth wide;
'Cause you can't have freedom of speech
With nothing to say. Open your eyes.

Where the fuck is all the fuss?
They keep track of every detail
And continue to follow us
Around; our footprints leave trails
To every part of us, ranging from our hate and lust;
Every letter in every email;
Every phone call to loved ones and people of trust.
Our whole lives are on sale.
Where the fuck is the anger and disgust?
They feel every spot like the blind feel Braille.
Shouldn't we be kicking up dust
Until there's no record or tales
Of our privacy? We must readjust;
We're crawling at a snail's
Pace while they grow more robust.
Ever heard of how Winston and Julia failed?

This piece is about the establishment monitoring everything we do. Personally, I find it horrifying that I can't have some of my deepest and most profound moments with people I love kept between the involved parties. I never signed up to be on the governments TV, so why should I accept the force to do so that's put on me?
Also, I'm sorry for posting pieces that I consider crap; I'm truggling with a heavy block at the moment.
Hannah Biskupic Apr 2015

Learning facts in vain,
Tomorrow they will change again,
Life as grey as yesterday,
Living in silence so loud,
Minds as free as they can't be,
Life lived in front of a Telescreen,
What is truth but justified lies?
Evidence never survives.

2+2=1984
Who can be sure
What war is any more?
Free from the dream
of Freedom,
Love despised as lies,
Ignorance hides us,
from hating
our entire lives.

The past is our identity,
It changes every day,
Double-thinking truth and lies,
Takes it out of me.
Where is the world,
From way back when
with sunlight
colour
freedom?
Its been erased from history
along with our privacy.

2+2=1984
Who can be sure
what war is any more?
Free from the dream
of freedom
love despised
as lies
Ignorance hides us
from hating
our entire lives

Who thought that
love could spring
like this?
Moss between the cracks
Colour
in a grey scale world
to make
my heart beat fast
hidden
in the broken places
once
so set in stone
fragile secrets
like our lives
one breath to make
them break

Found
in the night
In Desire's claws
Trapped
By
Love

2+2=1984
who can be sure
what war is any more?
Free from the dream
of freedom
Love despised
as lies
Ignorance hides us
from hating
our entire lives

Where is the freedom
we fought for?
Where are the rewards?
There are no
Martyrs
Only the
Missing
Hidden
In their jaws

Where am I?
I don't really know
wrapped
in the trap
of love

remembering days
of passion
but no
that was not
love

My bones
are weary
My heart
is bent
My spirit
is broken
My love
is spent

My trap
My one
My love
Betrayed
By
Fear
2+2=1984

I am dust

I wrote this after finishing the book 1984 by George Orwell. I wanted to represent the story in a more condensed, emotional format.
Ottar Mar 2015

And not enough stars.

The streets are like arteries behind your eyes,
they can now see all.

Young geeks familiar with computer speak, sit in rooms
of control and the troll to make traffic better, with the
help and dreams, sky high and sky eyes, I feel more secure.
maybe...

Do you need attention,
what is your intention,
on main street thoroughfare,
tell'em all watching life ain't fair
rage at the sky above
with gestures, not love
sirens buzzing your direction
show your best side, get bolder get braver
no pictures, you didn't sign the waiver

Levels of "passive surveillance" are everywhere, how did orwell know?

All 'the Man' has to do
is get the ball rolling:
we'll handle the rest.

That's the grotesque beauty of it.
That's why we're called a System.

Enough of this "they, their/we, our" shit.
Have the balls to face the truth:
We're all in this together.
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