Lost souls of friends live on within our heads,
No feeling left, just dreams we lock away.
And us? We’re puppets dancing, hope and dread,
While songs of bloodshed drag us on each day.
You hum your hymns of battle, tense and hot;
I feed on feast’s-end groans and lovers’ moans
Amidst the crumbling titans you have wrought
In axioms of anarchy unknown.
There’s no need now to purge your thoughts of lust,
Or loathe the love that else might make us real.
Your effervescent, searing sign of trust
Turned malcontented mark of what you feel.
Our masks reveal our need to be divine,
But with hope lost, the world mocks our design.
Written 4/13/15, submitted as a fan sonnet to the Dark Heresy, Rogue Trader Choose Your Own Adventure thread on the SomethingAwful forums. Published as part of the thread 6/19/15.
“Consume, consume!” the word oft heard,
A glowing essence of a world
That marks the land with sparking coils,
And drills the crust for oozing oil,
With plumes of smoke like banners twirled.
Into our fires we are hurled,
Among the oak and birchwood burls,
We hum the tune of our war cry,
Take off your gloves, cast down your pearls,
The golden bands that grace your curls!
Lift your eyes towards dark’ning skies
And take our standard, hold it high!
Burn up that word you oft unfurled,
On bloody knees these children race
And scrub the floors to clear the place
With moans and cries that strip the air
Of cruel sins left by elders there
Who mock the ones that lack their ace.
This much-maligned and perfumed face
That snaps itself in grim disgrace,
Will beg for work from anywhere
On bloody knees.
The ones to blame laugh at our case,
Their crimes against us like a brace,
Which keeps us back away from where
Their ‘promised land’ now lacks an heir.
We skid and land without a base
On bloody knees.