“…reality, however utopian, is something from which people feel the need of taking pretty frequent holidays….”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
Blinder than the blind
when bathed in constant light-
a brave new world of fumbling,
never seeing with our sight.
Deafer than the deaf
when drowned in thunderous cheer-
a senseless time of muted roar,
never hearing with our ears.
Will we learn to see again?
Will we learn to listen?
And for those who’ve grown
in the glistering din-
would it be cruel
to teach them?
Oh, children of bombardment,
are you freer or imprisoned?
pm poetry 