Thursday, May 29, 2008

Looking for Orwell in the Doorwell

At times like this I wax pedantic.
It keeps me from getting manic, acting frantic.
as the nabobs quibble and dribble with semantics
they try and tell me that they are the only demographic.
oh well, I guess they are just pragmatic.

Mad props to the ex-cop!
Whose first name was Eric his pen did Blare
he was a confused sage who documented his mad age
in depressing, oppressing page after page.
But the guy was a secret mage!
he did check the rage and abused the sacred yage.

Politics and the English language,
shows you how they planned this
you will see that collateral damage
creates a cloudy image
its' a lazy definition that keeps you in a mental prison.

he could have been a dean
but instead he bowed down to a virtual king
who got his throne by shady means
Sometimes he was mean, but hey, his pockets were lean.
as he walked to Wigan he was leered at by peers!
they never see clear!
weaving deceiving skeins, based on faded dreams.
the smilers beguile, but their eyes carry a yahoo gleam.

He was once with the red team.
Until he caught a lead bolt from a heavy colt
Were you in Catalonia for the catatonia?

In naughty three people ask me
Banji when will you get romantic,
what! I say, I write about the things I feel
all I need is insan kamil and a will of steel
When there are things that mean something
why meditate about nothing?

I prefer to keep score
Remember in 1984 war is the core
Which makes all equally poor
Please shrink from doublethink
Don’t get paranoid
Like an athlete eating ‘roids


George Orwell is one of my favourite writers, I think I've read everything that he wrote, his son did not get any money form his father's writings and works as a civil servant.

2 comments:

Katya said...

Is this an old poem, or an adaptation of the old one? How come there's no mention of your birthday?

Happy Birthday!

love you,

kate

Katya said...

yes its' old, the only thing I would write about my birthday is a joke.