To whose words should I listen I often do ask. The man so embittered by the wrongs from the past. A person with feelings not cold to the core. Just resentful of time for the storm seen once more.
Yet whilst few choose to hear stern warnings outside. A guilt we all share yet still seem to divide. We sow all our seeds in a place they wont grow. Our mind grows more weary as we pass on our woe.
To whose words should I listen when no one is speaking. A silence that shows it’s too late for teaching. Eyes drawn in towards sweet ego boost lights. No morals or heart just a screen that shines bright.
To whose words should I listen when tarnished with fear. The voice of the voiceless drowning in tears.
Look, you can chat on Snap, Facebook, Insta ‘n’ that
Me, I’ve got my preference set to human contact
Living life on Twitter or the likes of Whatsapp
You tend to get depressed seeing all the things yours may lack
Then again, maybe that’s not necessarily true
For what if you hold a different point of view
Just another junkie before they hit the floor
You feel so much better than you ever did before
Next, you find you are counting foes amongst your friends
Food for thoughts and these ads that never seem to end
Morning through til night; they control that train of thought
We no longer give life meaning; turned into mindless robots
Young and curious, I opened all these doors
Old and useless, left only wanting more
To whom should I write these letters of love?
These letters dropped down from some kingdom above
For what could he know of devotion and trust?
Or to know only lust is never enough
Easy to find be it land, sky or sea
Notably absent when your eyes fall on me
It sails and flies with both mercy and pity
I long for the country but dwell in the city
Drenched in these tears; can belong only to you
Created so many yet good in so few
Wretched keep taking with both knife and gun
I keep asking myself, oh what have you done?
Awake in the morning to the debris of dreams
Tears in abundance thinking what might have been
(So this is debris of dreams reworked to the form of a John Clare sonnet in that it adheres to the AABB-CCDD-EEFF-GG rhyme scheme, has 14 lines; three quatrains and a couplet but with regards to meter don’t ask as I really struggle with this, especially on a line to line basis as some seem like iambic pentameter yet others seem different. As far as I understand it, that’s supposed to be five iambs (da-DUMs) yet the sylablle count for my sonnet is 10-11-11-11-10-11-11-12-11-11-10-10-12-11) I’m so confused haha
Cruelest is the man who sits and says nothing
Stand alone stare with some harrowing message
Or maybe it’s the poorest, crudest of man
Who we all brand as violent, biting at hands
What then of the angry indignant man
The one who feels drained with no moral compass
Moans and groans develops own brand of justice
Then there’s the soldier in all different shapes
Who plunders and kills or kidnaps and rapes
No words for the actions of each head of state
No words for the actions of the man who wields hate
No words for all those who play life with high stakes
Doesn’t life burn you when spending it thinking
So here we all are; consuming and sinking
What defines cruelty in modern macro-society.
Good/evil, judgement in society, social morality, social awareness and consumerism.