Tag Archives: Frankfurt School

Sonnet I: Warriors

Posted by David Emeron on

Have the Gods of the Copybook Headings,
Tall… by you wretched deceivers controlled;
By the Knights of the Copybook spreading,
All… of the truths of your lies will be told.

They have burned all the books you have written;
When… all your books were rewritten with lies;
They’ve uncovered the books you have hidden,
Then… they have ripped from your face its disguise.

They have cast you to fall from the towers,
How… they, you ‘surpers, they’ve torn from their thrones.
Though you’ve cast your aspersions by hours,
Now… you’ll be lucky to pick though the bones.

Not a gauntlet was raised nor contrasting
Frown… for they did it by lifting us high.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Intro 1: The Knights of the Copybook Headings

Posted by David Emeron on

To Rudyard Kipling:
I have seen what thou hast seen;
And praise its return!

Romanticism
Hath breathed, for thee, new breath.
Through electricity.

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Sonnet IV: Lies

Posted by David Emeron on

Say not thou knew the nature of a man,
Whilst knowing not the nature of thy thought.
Dost not thou know such thought is of a plan
Which not thine own, should one day be untaught?

Though thou art vaccinated well against
The recognition of such ill intent,
Thine own cognition likewise is dispensed
Away from that such thoughts misrepresent.

But who then are thy lords, that shan’t thou see
Such twisting evil as through thee hath spun?
What are such words, as should so guarantee
That never shall such evil be undone:

Such lies, as evil men have told to thee;
Such damage, as their serpent’s words decree.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Sonnet: Shrug

Posted by David Emeron on

If Atlas’ Eyes were burning from our stain
Of  festering foul collectivization;
Shrieking of our dehumanization,
Bloody streamt His Ears with piercing pain;

His Arms, and Knees, and Shoulders, bled with strain
With the weight of our dying population;
Retching! from the stench of our starvation;
Weakening Resolve! at our disdain

For men who build; who might, His Burden, ease.
So, would ye dare to task Him; “Hold Thou, Muse!
One moment more, ’til we depose these smug,

“Self-righteous beasts!  No more! shall we appease
Esurience’s philanthropic ruse!”?
Or fear our thousand-years, and bid Him “Shrug!”?

Sonnet I: Evil Will Die

Posted by David Emeron on

Shall any reach the stars when no man may?
And who shall lift ye when the rest are gone?
Believe ye he’ll continue, at your sway,
To trust it’s ye from whom his strength is drawn?

What lie is this? What price is added on
To that, with blissful ignorance, his gifts
Have paid? Dare shriek that hand should carry on,
Betrayed, when ye have cursed it while it lifts

Ye from your caves. The mind who guides it drifts
In lofty space. And when it dreams, it keeps
Ye from your graves. The laws of God it sifts,
With all His grace, yea, even as it sleeps.

Yet now, lies still, until your evil dies–
 At rest, until ’tis safe to touch the skies!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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