It’s more direct now.
I Like this version better.
Much more personal.
It now has the punch
I wish I could deliver
With my own two fists.
What is that light, now,
Raging from the east? A sun?
Many more will rise.
Author Archives: David Emeron
Sonnet: Creators
And who are these who rape my Gods when long
They have returned to ash, and dust, and bone?
No right have these to slash Them, cruelly thrown
And bleeding, from the Heights where They belong.
And who are these ignoble beasts; this throng,
Who mutilate and rape Them, unbeknown,
Then take their turn upon each vacant Throne,
While still They fall, unknowing, from this wrong?
Do these believe their acts are in the right;
As though belief could claim to sanction rape?
Do these take carnal pleasure in the night,
While horrified Their past devoted gape?
Or do these quake with fear, while knowing well,
Their lie alone will have them burn in Hell?
Intro: Alright, I Take it All Back…
~~~ who ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ are ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~ these ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ?
Sonnet: In Shadow
So often do I feel myself alone;
A shadow-being as dwelt in shadowed land;
Within a hidden place of shadowed sleep;
To drift within the dreams of others; and
Although I live surrounded, I am prone
To wake whilst do they rest. So lonely, I;
At best: am tossed to shadows and their keep;
And, though I prize the quiet time thereby–
Such times, surreal they seem; as unbeknown–
Am I, to any life beyond my mind–
Enveloped, parallel, and buried deep
From all of God’s creation–misaligned.
Until I’m thrown, myself, to dream; and make
To leap and join the world, wherefore I wake.
Intro: I come from the land of…
…Circadia.
Sonnet: Mercy’s Prise
D—– dear, you’re lucky to be dead!
To have escaped the parody you name,
Is Mercy’s gracious gift; and yet you came
Back, so ungrateful for her gift, instead
Of resting–came to save these two, misled,
And taught us much, as much you did disclaim,
Of worth and duty, honour, deed, and shame.
Thus in death, you lessons bled as said:
“You must surely love, if love you must:
And loving still, through irony or kind,
Uplifting thoughts, you would, inspired above
All evil, rise.” If ever I could find
The prise of justice now, I’d not so mind
That you are gone–that left us more, our Love.
- By: David Emeron
Written in 1984
((and George Orwell
was nowhere to be found))
Intro: Anachronicon
Once I wished you knew
Then I feared that never would you know
Never would you see
Once I knew that you knew
Then I realised that you had always known
Always did you see
This is why you smiled
And we always saw you smiling
Smiled when we saw you
Smiled when you saw us.
Always had your smile told us
That you knew.
Then you were gone
And instead of crying, we laughed.
Because you had known.
And then…
David Emeron: Sonnets 