The Dream in Drink

The last remaining thoughts
slip into the bottle,
and I swallow my pride
and arrogant hope,
and find an ounce of solace
to fall asleep dreaming
and never again awaken.

The Last Outpost in the Pacific

All alone out here, so far from home,
against the wind and chasing the sun
each one set sail and abandoned their post,
forgetting their past and forgiving their future,
no one left, not a single person remained,
and when I awoke that lonely morning
I found one tiny ship they had left for me,
but they stole my ocean breeze that night,
so I am still sitting here waiting for the wind.

Set Aflame Your Modern Prometheus

You wield old irony torches to
weld iron infallible foundations,
savagery is your own sanction
and primal rage a prime thought,
so you will choke on the smoke
and ash becomes your own grave,
yet the ancients will not weep,
nor will the kin you use to kindle
free us from your very bonds,
you will sway your splendor of pyre
and flames will rise beyond control,
animate this passion to a prometheus
and launch your glowing final salvo,
now seal his fate in driven fervency,
the ashes will be your fucking grave.

Dance of the Bone Lord

He danced to deeds of the undead,
and the undone,
he danced to cries of the meek
on the ashes of his pyre.

Maggots filled his rotted heart,
and evil flowed his veins,
each step forward was a plague,
each step back was bloodshed.

His bones were brittle and flaked
as they clenched his staff,
and grinding with his movements
he grinned as best he could.

Persephone

I once visited your lake shore home
by the sea of fire, when I was known
as a king of man and a good friend
to that wretch you call a husband.

Like Agamemnon and his horse of wood
as a statue to courage for where it stood,
I accomplished what they said could not,
that of a companion, a kinship begot.

But in that same spring, he became
a conspirator with another by name,
one I dare not speak out of fear
because Helios can even watch here.

He snatched you from mother's grasp
and gave the living a wrath in vast
by bringing forth his death's season,
mistaking love for lust his only reason.

On all fours you scrub his citadel,
and clean the walls, and all he tells,
and all the floors and his daily chores,
and all the while he just ignores.

And you dare not speak before he,
his temper reigns, and will ever be,
only you and the dog know how that feels,
because I know all his love Minthe steals.

To Castle Carpathia, Part I.

Onward past the Black Sea through the land of the Great
we tread beneath fall eventide to the dead undead estate,
within the gloom, lady and I, spied the children of the night
calling the witching hour and a meal for their bellies to sate.

We crept on past mounds of bones and unmarked graves,
deep in the blume we found a path and his name engraved,
but the effluvium filled her eyes, so her tongue soon advised:
"Abandon all hope ye who enter here, as none are saved."

Winter

In winter my blood no longer boils,
and it cools my tempered heart,
then I start think of the gray sky
and all the beauty they miss,
because when the cold bites at them
and they whine and they moan,
I laugh so hard that I cry
because nothing makes them happy.

Miss Delirium

She buckles under pressure, and fights the sleep,
and thinks nothing of promises she can't keep.
She shrugs off the routine and can't understand
why others around her seem to have other plans.
She faces trivial matters with overwhelming stress
and starts to stand out when all others feel less.
She needs the chaos and desires the tension,
and she'll never rise and find her ascension.

Dark Demon Roast

Holding cup & saucer
containing its tainted mud
black & thick as African ink
with 72 (un)natural spices-
roasting, roasting, raise to toast
to the tide, to evoke an infernal seal
imprinted as a stain-
registered as gut reaction-
reaching out to no One
in the raven circle abyss, dreary
in solitary, Imp-ious nature-
a starless kiss, livid-
as it stretches across lips
for the final, funereal finale-
no morning, the spotless white
so saintly lucid, no mourning-
all with just a sip of Goetia coffee
from Solomon's very vein.

Copycat (or Something Similar)

Again I retire to the porch
to smoke in the cold
dead of night,
to sip my coffee
and breathe a sigh
of relaxation,
and to watch the neighbor's dog
dig through the trash
while still bound to his chain,
and I can't help but think
about how I'm really no different.

Omen

About six years ago
we put our money into the pot
and worked our way through,
I didn't make it,
but he did,
he always did,
and at the start of the last game
he sank the eight ball
on the break
and broke his cue
against the wall,
there is no such thing as luck
but, unfortunately
in his case
there was.

An Autumn Evening

Deciduous trees shed,
crops are harvested,
night comes sooner
and stays a bit longer,
the cold starts to set in
so the birds fly south,
and it all reminds me
just how beautiful
this world can be
when I watch it die.

Swallowing of the Last Quasar

An enigmatic halo, ever-slowly dissipating
into the dark, abysmal depth of discord,
not soon, but eventual, succumbing to all
whom point and pull with the hidden sword.
A steady state in mob rule and misrule,
though still fortuitous despite the chain
by the final remnant of a forgotten breed
sparking the dying light hoping to remain.
A luminous burst of brilliance speckles
the night sky in harmony and an allure
before being engulfed in the horizon as
one last frequency emitted goes unheard.

The Dreamers

These holy innocents receive,
racing through the Louvre,
isolated from the cruel world
with morning matinee and amour,
with Sobraine, not Molotov,
with lovers' hearts in hands,
"We accept him, one of us."
Until the siblings resist no longer,
and France is forever changed
with the death of its own children.

A Place So True

The cool breeze brushed against my face like soft fingers of a lover,
the trees so green, the mountains towered above,
kindling beauty surrounded, a place of slumber I found.

I closed my eyes, and smiled, clearing my mind,
I never knew of such a place, always looked, always tried,
excited, thrilled, such relief and passion,
feelings of joy, past forgotten, depression passed on.

Darkness loomed through each tree, mysterious,
my heart ran rampant, my sadness died, oblivious,
inspiration, the name rang true, appreciation grew.

Take me back there, I need to live, oh, please,
I found comfort in Mother Nature and her trees,
again, take me again, venturing on through,
a place so pure and real, a place so true.

The Six Keys to Salvation

I.
"Come forth, O children,
under the stars,
and take your fill of love!"
Perhaps in the confessions of bitter fools
slumbers some sorts and stable truth,
in their remains of ash and hatred
waits their penchant the world
will never see as such a Strength.

II.
While in disorder we despair,
while in prediction we are precise,
yet in circumvention we may befriend
Augustine and his prolific gesture:
"Love, and do what thou wilt."
But bound into nihilism
we fall through the Chasm
alone, and afraid more
for the journey itself
than ends, yet we repent,
we regret all ending, all failings
of fortune and hopeful endeavors.

III.
"Sing the rapturous love-song unto me!
Burn to me perfumes! Wear to me jewels!
Drink to me, for I love you! I love you!"
Recite the words. Speak the sense
of masters and men
who once were within the right
to preach as saints and prophets.
In their bindings of what
could only be imprisoned for once
and always be the beckoned callings
and mistaken and immoral rapture
of the slip of a tongue from madmen.
More over complex an aphrodisiac,
yet a simple concept, always,
but you practice abstinence
and beneath futility your own ruin.

IV.
"I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset;
I am the naked brilliance
of the voluptuous night-sky."
Within the seventh came lasting night,
and in the sixth came Babalon,
within the fifth came the fires of Plato,
and in the fourth came Passion's plague,
within the third came the altruistic affair,
and in the second came the purest Roman spring.
But found upon the first was Un-forgiveness,
and a pleading to great Geanian, replying:
"I will give you a war-engine."

V.
So now with a burnt etching
gilding my own left hand,
I restrict my moral codes of self,
a nature Divine in itself
to prevent the loss of an idolized pride
through prized wrath and envy.

VI.
To what grief may I slip into
for all wrought by my deeds?
On all fours as beast and lesser a man
I surely would take my place,
in the Bower of Bliss
as the Union of Opposites,
the well intended and opportune
for the forgotten and Forgiven:
“Love is the law,” always,
“love under will.”
Blasphemy on the first, by
The Devoted, Enlightened!

The Saga of the Viking Queen

I - Birth of a Mannheim Queen

The saga had once begun with the death of the Queen
and after she had given birth to a girl at only fifteen,
but King Olaf needed a son, yet she had bore none,
so the King pondered and decided to keep her unseen.

He kept her in the shadows and raised her as a man,
and as the years progressed, the King built his plan,
from time to time men questioned but with a discretion,
for they realized the King was soon to be an old man.

There would be no more raids, no more voyages to sea,
the King was growing weary, this they could all agree,
yet as his health was straining the new king was training,
so Olaf was proud and sure that the ruse would succeed.

He kept her hair cut short, and taught her the sword,
he showed her courage and how to lead the Viking horde,
she would wrap her breasts the King had his guests,
so Olaf's hope refilled, and soon his health had restored.


II - Fimbulwinter and Her Storm

It was the longest winter and in her twenty-third year
when she attacked a monastery and was pierced by a spear,
the wound needed dressed, so she uncovered her chest,
the men were taken aback and stood staring with austere.

Now there was distress and much unrest inside her men,
but the spear had struck more than her flesh within,
the Queen rose to her feet without accepting their retreat,
she clinched her axe, turned about and flashed a grin.

Charging towards the church with such a newfound haste
that even Jötunheim felt the rumblings of her chase,
slaughtering all who stood, she knew the men understood
the Viking throne was now overtaken by a woman's grace.

After gathering the silver and gold, the men were distraught,
the sea was cruel and would be jealous of what they brought,
but the Queen had set her path and even the sea feared her wrath,
and though she rested home's journey, her slaying was not wrought.


III - Severing the Royalty Line

As the night stormed in, the water covered in fog and mist,
she filled her chalice with the blood of her antagonists
and rose up to make a decree to give praise to the World Tree,
the men had their night meal and continued into the abyss.

The moonless night held no route, yet Thor led their way,
evil was amiss and it seemed her father planned to betray,
a dark goddess had let him know what she revealed apropos,
but she was the Queen and there would be hell to would pay.

The men slowed their rowing as they can upon the icy banks,
they gathered their treasures and gave the gods their thanks,
but Hallbera had other plans, she went to kill one more man,
she crept into the homestead where the proud men drank.

There she found her father, drew her sword, and called him out,
she had unveiled his misleading and disgrace made him a lout,
with her grip tight on the blade, the King had tried to evade,
but the father lay dead, and so the men held no more doubt.


IV - Hel to Pay

It was over the course of the next few nights the men recalled
the Queen's bare breasted charge on the clergymen and their fall,
ruttish churchmen enchanted had taken an unclad sight for granted,
the Queen endured the jests, and laughter bellowed throughout the hall.

A blizzard raged with biting wind upon the roof as they drank mead,
but already the Queen was set on Hel, where these men she would lead,
and though the men may not understand, they would accept her command,
but if she wanted victory, she would need the sea and Njord's speed.

The journey would be treacherous, so a new ship was built to set sail,
and soon their thirst for blood would be taken aloft by Hel's gales,
the men asked Odin's blessing as Váli had Hallbera's heart in obsession,
there was only one action left before the warrior queen could prevail.

To die in battle with honor would send them to Valhalla's golden hall,
but it was the wretched realm of Hel where they were intent to crawl,
so one by one they slit their throats and then faded with their boat
and awoke to the acrid stench of death and Niflheim's frozen squalls.


V – Beneath the Third Root of Yggdrasil

The Queen and her men of fifty strong arose and then prepared for war,
they would mount their siege in the land of dead when they ran ashore,
hunting and slaying all who once died and destroying where they reside,
Hallbera would take to arms as well and seek revenge against this whore.

Upon the bridge Gjallarbrú the giantess Modgud threw rock and shards of ice,
it split the timber of the boat but they could no longer fear for their lives,
yet the ship was now lost to the depths of the Gjöll, a cold river of death,
so the men began to swim towards the rising wall in water piercing like knives.

They reached the Corpse Gate, Nágrind, where they met Garm, watchdog of Hel,
the Queen screamed out a war cry and within his rotted flesh her spear impaled,
she could not slay the beast but allowed her men to pass covered in shroud,
the hall's roof was woven from spines of serpents where the dead were jailed.

A half dying mass stood 'round cold blue flame with a veil of black lace,
Hallbera clenched her throat, tore the cloth away and spat into her face,
but there was to be no victory, the figure stood was Loki, god of trickery,
and already the dark depths of frozen Hel were beckoning her men to embrace.


VI - Dinner with an Unwelcome Guest

With eight legs and girth and the aid of wind, Sleipner the steed rushed in,
atop was Hermod, once messenger, and once more again returning to once been,
and Hermod called out to the one for whom which had vowed to weep none,
upon dismounting, he raised his sword and demanded Loki to admit his chagrin.

But Loki chuckled and Hel appeared, as Balder still sat the most honorable seat,
the Queen accompanied his side, as did her men, for there would be no retreat,
the Lord of Mischief began twisting words of which were as black as the birds,
but with the aid of Hermod, Hallbera could sense his lies and resisted deceit.

The messenger spoke, Loki did not belong as he should still have been chained,
the Vikings listened to the story, and Loki's once punishment was explained,
under a poison he lay for his crime and there he was to remain until came time
for him to take his place before beasts and giants to have the gods arraigned.

Hermod demanded the release of Hel's new grip or Odin swore to precipitate war,
Loki trembled and whispered cautiously that Hel might agree, as he so implored,
the men vanished and found themselves greeted by a golden hall of warriors seated,
and there appeared the figure of Hallbera knelt before the horde and Viking Lord.


VII - The Eve of Godly Fate

In the midst of Asgard, on the plains of Idavoll, the Queen was escorted,
this Tyr, a just companion, he spoke highly and she allowed herself courted,
the God of War professed intent, and underneath the trees she gave consent,
then with the aid of Frigg came forth the essence of a single life purported.

He allowed her to feast upon a bushel of Idun's apples near the Well of Urth,
and restoring the royalty line, this newly wedded queen, Hallbera, gave birth,
in only a single day the daughter came, and the two spelled the newborn's name,
Ásgun became a woman within a week and so Hallbera returned back to Earth.

Odin recognized her prowess and as Queen of the Valkyrie she was sent down
riding upon a wolf to each battlefield gathering only souls bearing renown,
Tyr had told the distance of coming doom, the new Valkyrie held no gloom,
she was the Queen of Man and War and her progeny was a counsel to the crown.

Back within the halls of Valhalla, Odin related warnings of the lasting storm,
the ever long winter was the final sign of Ragnarök and the ruling power reform,
Thor held his cup to toast for fate and to those who would remain to recreate,
and they continued to dine until the sound of Heimdall blowing the Gjallarhorn.


VIII - All Nine Realms Set Ablaze

Surtur, leader of Muspelheim, assembled his giants of the south with sword ignited,
on the verge of valiance, Hallbera took to arms and led her furies as one united,
the army of gods gathered to Thor's thunder as the red-blazed sky was torn asunder,
and sun and moon were consumed by chasing wolves leaving the Earth benighted.

The spirit of the Einherjar, including the Queen's men, met the Jötuns at Vigrond
storming out from the ship of nails, Naglfar, so the World Serpent had freed his bonds,
from the north on a second ship rode Loki and Hel upon the deadweight back from expel,
Bifröst cracked and broke as Surtur swung his sword of fire filling the vast beyond.

Brandishing his spear, Gungnir, Odin led the charge straight for Fenrir, the wolf brute,
as Thor fought his nemesis, Jörmungand the World Serpent, Heimdall met Loki's pursuit,
Hallbera finally clashed with the goddess of death as husband Tyr beheld Garm's breath,
the four all met their fates after feverish battle and soon the bouts became permute.

Thor held his hammer high after slaying the serpent, and only took nine steps back
before succumbing to its poison and fading, yet Odin focused on Fenrir and attacked,
after an age passed, Odin finally fell, consumed, and so it seemed the gods were doomed,
then Vidar tore off the wolf's jaw as Surtur scorched himself and all into the black.


IX - Runes of War

The Silent God and his vengeful brother being spared, arise to the new throne,
and they return to the former hall of Valhalla to wait, for they are not alone,
the sons of Thor, and Balder and Hod return to Idavoll to consult Hœnir's rod,
here they discuss the recent events of their told fate and the coming unknown.

The dwindling fires of Surtur slowly diminish leaving only Hodmimir's Wood,
and deep within this one forest only Lif and Lifthrasir, two humans, stood,
living only on the morning dew, they rebuild, and remake this Earth in new gild,
two heavens are built to house the dead as four halls keep the souls of good.

And in the new hall Náströnd, Nidhogg will suck the blood of the evil dead,
yet there is no misery in this new era, and only harmony and peace will spread,
and deep within the greatest hall of all, these new gods will sit and recall
the tale of Queen Hallbera, and her child, Ásgun, who now serves in her stead.

Being the daughter of a warrior queen and offspring to the once God of War
she took her place in the hall of Gimli so the children of men could adore,
carving runes into stone of her story, she told the saga of Hallbera's glory,
presiding over the throne of war, she ensured her legend was heard forevermore.

Like Rhakotis Still Standing

Lost and forgotten all in evasion,
due, in part, to the king's heart,
an overzealousness and persuasion
bore ultimately untimely invasion.

Yet through the haze and fog arose
two millennia past, all men amassed,
stretching in the harbor from repose
was the battalion of souls opposed.

Beneath stars they marched as one
to salvation or doom, and to consume
those who cursed a village they begun
as seafarers and the fishermen sons.

A Permanent Algorithm

I counter-balanced the weights and measures,
the first and second, and then the third,
a production hypothesis of the cycle,
the revolution of each and every word.

I mapped the coordinates on my course,
and kept the documents within my grasp,
but each time I took a step forward
I would retract my theory to the last.

A Subconscious Subverted

An usurped power
providing no sanctity,
no sanctuary in undoing
for a means to redemption,
and yet no relinquishing,
no missteps, no mistakes,
no misgivings or regret,
writhed agony from mystery
in desperate, misled misery
to disguise the truth
of a seed planted, uneasy,
in such twisted motives
to erect in elevation,
your rivaled rampart
so ripe for decay,
but in you birthed visions
from a passive placation
of bastions of fruition
of fallacy for a heretic,
led so far from home,
caged in a bar less prison,
a stiff, stifling heart,
branded for heresy and Hell,
expected all in due time,
and cast out, dethroned,
discrowned and discredited
for my complete irrelevance.

Mephisto Manifesto

At my desk I sat cowering and I wrote
each and every whispered sound and note,
my ears were burning and hair stood on end
as I scripted an unholy manifest for the fiend.

I was writing the names of souls to be burned,
but not until I reached the end had I learned
that last on the list would be a name my own,
and nothing I did, even this list, could atone.

Tales of Wealth

And here you are, you've come to meet
a simple man living on the street.
An honest man, with kinship to spare,
so grab us a newspaper and sit over here.
A story I'll tell if you have the ear,
and perhaps more if you buy me a beer.
Don't get me wrong, I work hard for myself,
but a rich man I'm not, tales are my wealth.
Most of the time I share with my friends,
but a verse to them is as common as wind.
And I bet you've not heard a story like mine,
one with the courage to make character defined.
So come by the fire and warm your hands,
I've got an epic of legends so grand...

The Sooth-Sayer

The start of the second century once seen sat upon his throne
this hostile, savage slayer in a castle of stones and bones,
there was his strong son with a lisp, as well as the sly mistress,
but most interesting was the sooth-sayer that history had missed,
this seer could do more than see some say, as some say they saw
and some say sounds seared the silence from behind his stone walls,
the sayer wore teeth beneath his chin and stored gems in his sack,
he spoke of futures from smooth stones but the slayer gave no slack,
this savage misheard or misunderstood, as the seer had spoken ill,
these tidings sat unwell, so the sayer's neck met axe upon the hill.

The Calico Empowerment

Heed my whispered warning, friend,
as she makes her approach, kneel and bow,
see the malice and anguish of the lady Gölgga,
tales of her treachery unbeknownst to all.

Keep your eyes down, hypnotic her gaze,
a siren born of sin and flame,
this she-devil enacts her vengeance
upon all the lustful men.

Consume you, she will, into nihility,
don't relinquish your guard,
such trickery in her morbid rhymes,
but clearly translucent to the less seduced.

She feasts on fools in their new narcosis,
and see, her hunger is second only to one,
trailing proper at her feet...
a spectre of a feline with crimson eyes.

Dysuria and God

Lodged deep inside the tract
lay the tiny crystal aggregation.
Concreted down and held in,
I writhed in pain and agony
from the hardened calculi.
X-rays showed something there
that I had already believed in,
but they could deny no longer.
The technician shoved in a tube
to release most of the pressure
and then I pissed out the stone.