Saturday, October 21, 2006
Thoughts
"Dawn"
Clawing for more from the rage of deceit
A lost generation disfranchised
by corporatism and empty lies.
Fragments of lives shattered in hollow streets
of suburbia America scream-
ing from these endless artificial ties,
“Is there something truly more to our lives,
Are we all just actors in this sad scene?”
With the first clinched fist thrown, so it began,
Bodies flooding on to the sidewalk shores
Pick axes and hammers waving in hand.
The voices echoing through time, “We aren’t our
Pants or shirts. We aren’t Starbucks, Coke, or Coors.
We’re more than what society imparts.”
Opionin
This is an italian sonnet I did. I really enjoyed putting this one together, and I hope you understand what I'm trying to convey.
"Dawn"
Clawing for more from the rage of deceit
A lost generation disfranchised
by corporatism and empty lies.
Fragments of lives shattered in hollow streets
of suburbia America scream-
ing from these endless artificial ties,
“Is there something truly more to our lives,
Are we all just actors in this sad scene?”
With the first clinched fist thrown, so it began,
Bodies flooding on to the sidewalk shores
Pick axes and hammers waving in hand.
The voices echoing through time, “We aren’t our
Pants or shirts. We aren’t Starbucks, Coke, or Coors.
We’re more than what society imparts.”
Opionin
This is an italian sonnet I did. I really enjoyed putting this one together, and I hope you understand what I'm trying to convey.
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