Z
A beak of sleep, painted
crudely on a tank, becomes
tainted, reflected, a skewed boot,
forever glancing off a surface;
destructive and distasteful
as O’Brien suggested.
V
Peace, askance, becomes a spade;
a blade to dig a grave with;
a tricky proposition in any city street.
The school of matter over mind: predictive.
Letters and signs; alphabets reinvented;
fact from fiction: fiction to fact.
nickreeves 
An intriguing poem. I like it very much.
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In the fog of war, the lines between fact and fiction so easily become blurred! (Apologies for the split infinitive…)
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We won’t fight about it 🙂 x
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I heard a quote recently, (although I don’t know who the originator is) :
‘1984 was supposed to be a warning, not an operation manual’.
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An expressive poem. Very well done! Sadly, it reflects the times we live in.
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It’s the pointed letters I feel sorry for! 🙂
Thanks, Stacey.
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