1984 at BRGS
Nervous of a nihilistic Orwellian disaster,
and the truth was the clock was sitting at three minutes to Midnight.
The eighties was bigger and better than it had ever been before
The ra-ra skirts and Club Tropicana
Were our own way of shaking off the pervasive doom of the previous decade,
Punctuated by strikes, unrest, fuel shortages and the three day week.
But the Cold war raged and the doomsday clock ticked on.
Disturbed by the dystopian nightmare of the nuclear propaganda machine.
Is this the return of the nightmare that was? What time is it Mr Wolf?
©Alison Jean Hankinson
A couple of added words but for napowrimo day 19 we were challenged to write an erasure poem, I wrote the piece of prose earlier in the week and have used it to create the poem.