FROZEN FAMILY REUNIONS

Orwell did nothing more than peek his nose into this piece of self-reflection, my 2012 debut. 01 06 12

I.
I never thought to count the years
How could I when the trend
so recently pushed its way through
the line-up of my subconscious
planting itself behind the wall
of my forehead / the imaginary
waiting room of sentiments
I call to Room 101 when Big Brother
Consciousness pencils in torment time
with Little Brother Bliss

II.
It's been two or three years
since the brook fell prey to the trend
of huddling its gut beneath its freezing
jigsaw cousins that appear to visit now
in erratic intervals likely sitting in
the fancy of the warm matriarchal
blanket of them all

III.
I back-timed the frozen family reunions
and concluded they were congregating
in the moonstruck digs of the brook
later with each passing year

IV.
My gullibility has never strayed
far from my forehead
Maybe it was keeping it a secret
so as not to perturb me
yet again with common sense
for this year I realized the congregation
was in fact assembling
earlier with each passing year

V.
The long-awaited wit in my everyday logic
tipped my head to the slight north
with its keenly-timed weight
like an invisible barber
That cranial subconscious of mine
ominously housing orphan thoughts
must have broke down and had to realize
it loved Big Brother