Big Brother and Little Love.

Big Brother clenches his jaw, the car skids
And slams, the headlights blaring on walls and the Trogs.
They are heavy and leathered, their tiny eyes
Set evilly on punishment, the ending of rebellion.
Little Love feels his water dripping, but he gets out
His ankles shocking on the street. Big Brother speaks.
He is angry, commanding. The blow knocks him down.
And Little Love screams like a girl in the jeering
Mob of heavy hitting Trogs; the troops of seeming decency!
With black boots slamming home, Big Brother cries 'run'!
And Little Love runs, and runs, the orange streetlamps
Spinning, alone in horror he runs to no-help,no-hope.

Little Love gently stacks and shuffles and sorts
Five bright cards; they have come from far
All different. Each one reports his lover's pleasure
'hi there'! Big Brothers smashed hand signs them.
Its been two weeks. The clock ticks.
The sunshine furls in the curtaiins, the flat is quiet.
Little Love is crying, here in the quiet security
Of no-help, no- hope. Big Brother the prisoner
A captive beaten every day, every hour, far away.
Little Love is 15. They met in the arcade, when he was 12.
Big Brother had a manly gentle kiss. It was a loving seduction.
Like a bright father, he took Little Love off the streets.

The black phone shrieks in early morning. He trembles.
They're to meeton the bridge, the time now or never
Little Love goes, frightened and furtive, athirst for
Big Brother, poor dying lover, Little Loves homely friend.
Iron grey stacks up to early sky. Big Brother balanced.
His face is broken, he is drunk with torture. He is blind.
With a great guffaw, the iron stave smashes down.
'help meee' the cry is high and imbecile. He drops. Gone.
Little Love stares at the brown waters. His lover is dead.
The cobbles hurt his soft fists as he pounds howling.
Until the loud Trogs see him, he howls like a dog.
And runs, runs, an unwanted rat, to no-hope, no-help.

Its dark and wet in here. The mad iron ring swings
Crazily over his bowed head. He's in rags, whitefaced,
Unsleeping, afraid of the maniac cellar of the weird.
Little Love lost, hiding in the dead cellar of the mind.
He's dreaming of Big Brother, happy days, a rescue.
Like a child he wipes his eyes. He cannot see me.
I stop the iron lights. I kick away the thinkbox.
Not that its harmful, I do it to stop his fear.
He's more afraid of my dark presence than even of Trogs.
His thoughts whispher of ghosts and devils. I kneel beside.
Its company, a devil in the dark, warmth waiting in the air.
Slowly he talks to me, of going away, to the roof of the world.

'Its called 'Numeneor', I say quietly. He stiffens.
A darkness that speaks! Is it God? I laugh, for I am gentle.
'You are asleep in my mind, I tell him. 'All souls talk here'.
'This roof of the world for which you pray, used to be Heaven.
Without me it is Hell. But there are many loves there.'
'Do you know it?' he whisphers, trying to search oout God.
'Yes, I know it. You'll get there if you go up. Its easy.
But you are very alone, my son. Tell me of your sorrow.'
He is defiant, as all are to the dark that smiles and speaks.
'Surely you know!' he says, determined to test me.
'My son, your love I know, your history it is known.' I say.


'I'll never betray you, he says, his heart flooding relief.
So I show him Mugdumenor, the crazy, and lonely, and beautiful.
'Not on my own, he cries. 'Not without you. And...my friend?'
'It is as you say' I whispher; and the daylight crashes in.
He gets up and walks into the light, his eyes hopeful at last.
The brown waters swirl sluggishly. The Trogs hang beside me.
Deep below, Big Brother lazily drifts in the waters.
I know my kiss will let life leap into his body
If only he loves, remembers Little Love, my friend.
Together we'll restore right rule, the right rule, to Numeneor!
'All for one. And one for all,' I tell the shocked silences.
'What is that to thee? Follow thou me.......