Lolita
- after Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov

Love me Lolita
you’re on the tip of my tongue
fire of my loins
sin of my soul

Love me Lolita
laying there in the garden
looking up and down
at a widowed white male

Love me Lolita
I’m not too old
you’re another country
we are removed

Love me Lolita
light of my life
lying on my bed
your toe nails a mess

Love me Lolita
this damaged man
I’ve torn you from your childhood
into a hundred degrees

Love me Lolita
your mother is dead
I didn’t kill her
she died of fear

Love me Lolita
you are so many people
in your changing hues
but in my arms you are always Lolita

Love me Lolita
as you love another
leave me Lolita
I can’t bare the pain.

Robert Kennedy

The Blood
-after Carrie, by Stephen King

Carrie White burns in hell
dancing like a moth in a flame.

Through a twist of thought
and a mind unparalleled
time shifts, objects move
as a force of nature

Spinning in a paradise of doubt
young woman on the edge of life
kneels to the taunts of others

Disgraced, lonely mother
scared of sin, crucifies
her only daughter
with claustrophobic fear

Burning away at an emotional core
the dizziness of dreams unfolds
into a nightmare of crushing revenge

A stage splits a body in two
fired from the heart of burning hate
all that laughed cindered to dust

Carrie White burns in hell
dying like a moth in a flame.

Robert Kennedy

Brave New Poem
- after Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

The pencil scurried illegibly across the page
there was a sound of light regular breathing
and a faint voice remotely whispering.

Then a shock of startling pain, it was something desperate
almost insane, like an explosion of bells, which slowly died
from tone to tone into silence.

The more advanced emotionally engineered
explained the rhymes of moral propaganda
to the victims, the savagely possessed, for enormous superiority.

The savage looked at them reproachfully
then suddenly fell on their knees, taking their hands
then kissed them, and whispered, if you only knew.

Suddenly somebody started singing, they all caught up the refrain
dancing around beating one another in 6/8 time.
They stopped then covered their eyes, crying, Oh My God, My God.

One young woman stood silently, smiling, a peach bright doll beautiful face her blue eyes grew larger, brighter, with a quick emphasised gesture she stretched out her arms and screamed, I want the whip, whip me.

She stood like a magnetic center of attention
her face a pane of fascinating horror
as they slashed at her with whips of small cords.

Oh the flesh, the savage ground their teeth, then slowly
very slowly as an unhurried compass needle, their feet turned
towards the north, north-east, east, south-east, south.

Robert Kennedy

4891
- after 1984, by George Orwell

Things of green and darkest blue
tumble down in snow white fields.

Against the window
touching freedom.

In a sea of grass, waves form
as you look back.

Copies of words eat the truth
trapped in fear and solitude.

Transmitted thoughts policed by unity
ministered through the banner of truth.

We are ordered, completed by torture
screaming out the name of it.

Our age, abolished manipulated trust of the absolute
of our brother, enormously small.

Each moon shadows our path, like it's watching us
and there’s a boot stamping onto our faces.

Robert Kennedy