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Even for genius children, comprehending societal decay remains problematic. (Prosetry/flash fiction)
Dream-Blisters
by Odin Roark
“…Like the glow of star-dispelling lights
rising,
saturating air
from 5th Ave
to Trump Towers,
to the Bronx,
atop the bridges glinting brazen shouts.
“Hurt and pain guised as success,
a purulent throb of discharge,
woulda
coulda
shoulda
now,
like always,
decorative wounds,
cover-ups
flung high over and through,
settling seasonally in Pennsylvania
2nd homes, where farm animals
gaze from fields
at repeated history,
learned celebration,
attainment’s price.
“So it goes.
“Rising,
spreading,
oozing dream-blisters,
festering from forever frictions.
Id and ego,
smooth and calloused,
reduced to screams and laughter.
"Have and have not antecedents
surviving now as virus,
knowing not of antidote,
immunity prevention
long ago ignored for addiction.”
“Why is that Mother?”
“Like the book says, sweetheart…
see here the illustration
barnyard animal-looking humans
all dressed in party finery
wondering what
to do now.”
“Why are they wondering?”
“Mr. Orwell told the story long ago.
Another writer addressed it again
a bit different,
but with the same warning."
“Is that what they’re wondering about…warning?”
“Yes, dear.”
She caresses her daughter’s forehead
“Some things take a long time to learn.”
“But we do learn them…right?”
“Sleep warm, daughter.”
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Reader Reviews for
"Dream-Blisters"
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| Reviewed by Ronald Hull |
6/13/2013 |
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I don't recall reading Animal Farm or its message. Perhaps I should read it again (or for the first time). It seems we don't learn the lessons taught and must repeat them over and over again.
I must admit that I am fascinated by The Apprentice, although I consider Trump to be a bloated freak. Who would want to live in a gilded apartment? I'm glad that he went to a charity format because selecting apprentices to work for him was a brutal process.
In times of economic downturn, like in the Great Depression, the citizenry turn to get rich quick schemes and strange set of aversions (They Shoot Horses, Don't They?) and then to grab for the golden ring.
Ron |
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