Aneirin
Aneirin [aˈnɛirɪn] or Neirin was an early Medieval Brythonic poet. He is believed to have been a bard or court poet in one of the Cumbric kingdoms of the Old North or Hen Ogledd, probably that of Gododdin at Edinburgh, in modern Scotland. From the 17th century, his name was often incorrectly spelled "Aneurin".
Life
Some records indicate that Aneirin was the son of Caunus (or Caw) and brother to St. Gildas. According to this version of his life, he was born at Dumbarton on the River Clyde. However, some scholars debate this parentage, and contend that these records are of later invention and are erroneous. Whoever his father was, Aneirin's mother, Dwywei is mentioned in Y Gododdin. She may be the same lady who, according to Old Welsh pedigrees, married King Dunod who is generally thought to have ruled in West Yorkshire. He may also be kin to another Brythonic poet, Cian Gwenith Gwawd.
Aneirin's patrons were the noble Urien and his son Owain. Owain was slain at the Battle of Catraeth, in which Brythonic warriors of the Gododdin went up against the Angle warriors of Deira and Bernicia. Nearly all of the Brythonic warriors were slain and their lands were absorbed into the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Aneirin wrote Y Gododdin after this battle, in remembrance of his fallen patrons and lords, in which he hints that he is likely the sole survivor.
Podcasts:
-
by Aneirin
-
by Aneirin
Jeremiah Watch Your Back
by: AneirinWe travel below the world of our conspiracies
But never shall we plead with peace
So tell me how, how can you believe
But still disagree
On the hills of this lonely destruction
You drag this on
But still expect sympathy
When death comes your way
The sky screamed, and it cried
But we crawled back into our holes
And we forgot where we were
Oh self, your sense of love is fading
And you aren't the world tonight
I'm frickin' dead
So preach on you lonely sinners
I'll show you what's more real
More real, than what you'll ever feel
You'll ever feel
I will burn this place down, I'll show you something real
I'll show you how your heart is hollow, you're so hollow
This place is dead just like your pointless beating heart
I'll show you how your heart is hollow, you're so hollow
The bricks became our bed, with hollow regret
And thus screams, "rest your head beautiful liars"
But who can sleep with blooded liturgy
Even with a side of death ridden sympathy
Because this life is a question
And we sleep where we want to
At the bottom of the sky
At the bottom of the sky
At the bottom of death
So death won't scream louder
Die alone, without regret
Sing this song on your last breath
The sky screamed, and it cried
But we crawled back into our holes
And we forgot where we were
Oh self, your sense of love is fading
And you aren't the world tonight