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Jan 2016 · 860
Black Hole Messiah
Justus McMahon Jan 2016
All who strive and struggle
All who love too deeply
The souls whose heart mourns for others
The ones who feel the pain of empathic compassion

Empty your selves atop of me
Give unto me your hate
Tear the sorrow from your core
and be free

For I will consume
I will fester and writhe
For hate I loathe
and into the abyss I dive

Into the cryo-depth of darkness
Through the teeth of winter
Swallowed by war and hatred
For in the icy maw, hope thrives

Frozen inside his core
Fenrir engulfs the sun
Frigid I wait, rigid I stand
Fires of hate, Bless my son

And with the force of a thousand flames
The cries of a million strong
The spear that ended kingdoms come
****** the point of my demise

Belly splitting the beast howls
Birthed I am with the blood of passion
The light is once again released
Forged from the ice and compassion

Find joy my beloveds
Find happiness
Breathe your love onto me
For I am defeated

Valhalla, hear me now!
I am afraid to fall into the abyss
Guide me to the rainbow bridge
and I will lay my body beside the gate
Jan 2016 · 302
Frost-Bitten Gaze
Justus McMahon Jan 2016
The black sky sheds frozen ash
Memories set in frost
and Under two feet of snow I am losing feeling


An arctic wasteland
A nerve deadened silhouette
It's all just white and black


Trudge on
Trudge through
Chilled heart will soon thaw through


Ancestral calling
This blood melts the winter
and Paints a map back home


Written in runes
To the ocean
For my heart and spirit hold dear


Among the rhythmic waves
The sun's Image portrayed
The beauty is of color


A tear clings to my frost-bitten gaze
Hands clenched, jaw is stone
And my two boots buried in snow


Odin, I'm coming home.
Jan 2016 · 405
Wind Whispers
Justus McMahon Jan 2016
The wind did wail through the pines
Upon sylphen tongues rode thunderous 'foretellings
Crisp as the autumn air the words float upon
Softer than a mother's love

And the wind did speak
Weaving omens and prophecies
Lightning in poetic shape
I will never forget my lovely little fortune

The howl spoke and roared
A dialect only for my ready ears
Booming in an undertone,
"Son, Follow the rhythm of your war drum!"

These worn robes did fall
This auburn hair grows back
With a reminder around my wrist I march on
Onwards back home
Compass like heart guide me

Guide me back home

— The End —