beard-red explorers pillaging-horror practitioners tribal-family groups insurgent-nomadic roots that trailed wave-rammers across never-ending spans, continuously-toilfully matters not the demands women and men side by each beastly-feasters no table safe stand up for yourself or be a weak-waif in the bloodshot soul-panes, fierce pagan-purveyors by rites despised-womanizers siege-setters monk-murderers a blood-spilling bee treasure trove crash nβcarry Thor had his hammer every wave-rammer had an oar for every pair of life-stained hands, the stains were borrowed and the very life-drained out of others blood-smitten berserkers, heart-stoppers and yet discovererβs children wandering wet-wilderness found a Stormy-Stop, a few actually, and one be Newfoundland may-haps they settled in peace.
Yup I am so proud of them, they made me who I am. Inspiration Poetic Edda, did I tell you when my beard grows it grows in red.