literature

Big Brother

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ELBlove7's avatar
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Literature Text

Whisper, whisper,
Into the underground,
Into the grit,
Into the grime,
Whisper into
The dark ugly night,

But whatever you do
Don't let him see
You're dealings and tradings
In these unsavory streets.

Big brother, big brother,
Goes bump in the night,
Big brother, big brother,
Oh, what a fright!
Don't let him snatch you
Or he'll lock you up tight!

He'll shut you up
In cold dark cell
Where you'll wish for a moment
Out of this hell,
Walls painted white
And paper thin bed,
And hardly a pillow
For your sad aching head.
Nothing will stop
The anger burning your soul red.

Big brother, big brother,
Where are you now?
Are you near? Are you hear?
Is your face twisted
In a crooked old frown?

I know what you think,
You bag of bones,
They're drugs that I'm buying
That I'll smoke somewhere alone,
That I'll be violent and crazy
And hurt someone good,
But I've got nothing so devious
Stirring under my hood.

The truth of the fact,
The matter of sorts,
Is he's my friend and we're talking
Of the world's good and bad and worse,
But it's talking, just talking, a chatter of things
That are and that were and coming into being.
But we've seen you peer beneath your brow
Considering the things the law doesn't allow
And hoping we'll slip,
Slip some drugs through our fingers,
And so your gaze falls upon us and lingers.

Big brother, big brother,
Goes bump in the night,
Big brother, big brother,
Oh what a fright!
Don't let him snatch you
Or he'll lock you up tight.

And have you ever heard
A mad man's screams?
It's so much worse
Than it looks on TV.
You want to help him
Or quiet him or even darker-
To kill,
And not even for the sake of the thrill,
Just for a single moment of peace,
Just to get a damn minute of sleep,
Even on your rock solid cot
Or even in solitary,
Where your brain might start to rot.
At least it's not those horrible cries
Of a man who thinks he'll be heard
Though there isn't a caring soul in sight.

You might try and pretend you're a monk,
Contemplating eternity
From the quiet of your bunk,
But they'll always remind you
You aren't worth as much
As a creature who's soul
Is so harmonically touched.
You aren't even worth
Enough to own things,
All your pleasant memories
Are now the stuff of dreams.

Whisper whisper
Hush as you can,
But careful not
To anger "The Man".
Is it really as bad as that? Not for most people probably, but for some people it seems to be true.
© 2014 - 2024 ELBlove7
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