Welcome to a world of cruel dystopian colour; a place where the wills of people are crushed to smithereens while they writhe, screaming and yelling, for more-more-more, please; a realm of defecating into giant reverberating chambers that regurgitate it all as an intellectual sustenance gleefully chowed down on with great gusto and—mmm . . . yummy—appetite.
Alas, it would be remiss to try claim thorough originality: à la Yevgeny Zamyatin, every wall is see-through; but instead of baulk as one might like to idly imagine they might, au contraire it’s far more as per George Orwell with organised hates and everyone wanting to be centre of attention by showing what they had for dinner instead.
At least in colour it actually is, not merely a verse of poetic prose; an actual trick-or-treat artistic vision of the hell hole hall of mirrors in question.
Alt text: four images have been amended to display in blue and black colours only. Image one: a person in a crowd holds a phone up to take a photo of someone onstage playing guitar; the word ‘I’ has been added to the top left corner. Image two: two people in a crowd hold up phones to take photos of people on a stage; the word ‘You’ has been added to the top left corner. Image three: numerous hands hold up phones to take photos, though of what isn’t clear; the words ‘We all’ have been added to the top left corner. Image four: two people walk passed numerous TV screens showing varying images; the words ‘For any’ have been added to the top left corner.
Credits for the four images are presented top to bottom; the originals will open in a separate tab if clicking/tapping the link: my thanks to:
Thanks for reading 🙂
N. P. Ryan
To receive notifications of future posts of poetry—be they happy, sarcastic or sad—music history and reviews, the odd bit of this and that plus the occasional stab at promoting my books, please enter an email address below.