Poem
Maxine Beneba Clarke
2019
first, the Ministry of Truth doctored language
their words weaponry, loaded and aimed:
asylum seekers became illegals
they said detention centres, not jails
then the Ministry of Peace
tweaked the laws from the nuremberg trials:
said the free in free speech meant hate
they tabled fascist slogans in the parliament;
and burnt the universal declaration
it turned out their robust economy
was just smoke and mirrors for the election win:
that the Ministry of Plenty’d worked overtime
to spin doubleplus fake-news
they brought in the Ministry of Home Affairs
(calling it border control laid their brute-force too bare)
the people baulked,
but six months down the track
word-nationalism became normal
meanwhile, in perth,
orwellian telescreens
scanned every passing face
and they said there’s nothing to fear
if you’ve nothing to hide
(from the thought-crime database)
the people, terrified, whispered
it’s just like that book – like 1984
room 101 was guantánamo
and false weapons
caused decade-long wars
last, they sent men in dark tailored suits,
with signed warrants,
to the homes of the tellers of truth:
day raids, brazen
like we’d never seen
when the Ministry of Truth doctored language,
in the year 2019
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