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The whirlpool, it spins,
while the mountain, it twists.
As two serpents entwined,
are surrounding this.
Some had once claimed,
that it started as a bear,
others claimed it began at Canopus,
way over, down there.
Multi-headed or spring of rocks,
cavern, mountain or egg,
a great wheel forever-turning,
with a circus and a one leg!
Pushed along by two giants,
grinding up salt with its gear,
thus responsible for the seasons,
floods and movements and the year.
Two horns of the monster,
but not found on its head,
the Earthen plane a giant treasure,
where Drakon made his bed,
with two stars on his brow,
like the two in his eyes,
the porthole of the ship,
a flying horse in disguise.
Scylla, Charybdis,
Jason, Argos, Deucalion,
Ziusdra, Manu, Noah,
-and the two birds who carry on,
and the mountain from below,
which they all rested upon.
Ameleth or Kullervo,
…and brother Utamo’s great wrong,
…and the whirlpool from above that created this song!

And the evil found inside us, the Id and its kin, will nurture the abused child and continue the sin. The great black wheel of madness, as always, will spin, churning out more abusers to fill the Hell that we’re in. When, where or how did the wheel of blackness start? Corrupting the love and joy into the evil in man’s heart and turning family into tragedy and tearing them apart? Next time you feel weak and let the succubus inside, just remember all those in Hell and the reasons they died.
Astrology and ancient magic are a belief in the powers of celestial movements over the lives of men. This piece contains cosmogonical elements from Norse, German, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Persian and Hindu.
Every tree has its time;
Every tree, with its every root, has its rings,
Treasures kept in the stories they tell,
History written on its paper leaves.

Kind branches reach around me,
Breathing my breath,
Kissing my lungs from within,
With food for fire;
Its greenery grows,
Seconds gathering layers,
Becoming minutes,
And months, and eons;
Twigs become branches,
Become trunks.

The tree is bending slowly over the ages,
To the will of the winds, so swift and passing;
The roots are weaving through the soil,
Searching for moisture beneath the earth,
Digging deep past the soft sand to the stone below,
Laying its blankets on the bedrock.

It makes no sound,
But breathes nonetheless;
Children climb its branches,
Overwhelmed by the mystery,
That something so big,
Came from something so small,
That something so deep could reach so tall;
With hands in the homes of the bird and the worm,
They are the stitches holding the earth and sky.
Evelyn Culwch Jan 2016
O husband, behold the marks that mar your handsome face!
The angry red where poison left its sting,
Where my arms trembled.
Where I failed to save you,
If ever you were mine to save.

O husband, remember when your eyes first met mine!
We were so young,
When we married beneath the world tree.
When we danced among cowslips and primroses,
Like life would always be dancing.

O husband, think fondly on the first child!
Meant to be a great warrior,
Born as night broke into dawn.
Born a prince who would never be king,
By no fault of his own doing.

O husband, think too on the second son!
The magician and scholar,
Gentle in thought and action.
Gentle in word and deed,
That innocent youth.

O husband, cry for that betrayal!
The punishment passed down
By highest authority and greatest king.
By queen who shared my lineage,
Who in punishing you punished us all.

O husband, forgive my tears!
Those that drip down my face,
Landing on our dirtied robes.
Landing on your ashen skin,
As cooling as the poison is hot.

O husband, my strength grows weak!
She the always faithful,
My arms burn with the weight of two small corpses.
My arms sing with the agony of venom,
Fingers trembling where they grasp the golden bowl.

But O husband, I shall never leave!
Faith unwavering I sit by the eternal flame,
My husband the Silvertongue whose voice has long gone out.
My husband the Sky Traveler, who now lays bound to the earth,
I shall hold the bowl unto eternity.

O husband, behold the marks that mar that handsome face!
The angry red where poison left its sting,
Where it is soothed by the tears from mine own cheeks.
Where I failed to save you,
If ever you were mine to save.
Pride Ed Nov 2014
Glide on dark tempest and frighten the skies,
Above blooded lands, lamenting past battle cries!
Valkyrjas of storm; born of thunder.
Warriors of gore; bodies torn asunder!

O’ Blooded maidens; princesses of death,
Descend on these fields with hurried breath!
Pillage strong souls of frenzied conquest.
Gather them now at Odin’s behest!

Herd legions of wraiths behind Valhalla’s cruel gate.
These sleepers of ire; of wars they lay in wait,
For Ragnarök shall roar, so revel in glee.
Delight in this violence, thy mote it be!
For yet another prompt on allpoetry! XD
Corey Kuropas Oct 2014
I fight for the gods
To make it to Valhalla
Thirsting for sweet war
Shaded Lamp Aug 2014
WARNING


Extreme use of profanities


and Gods engaged in an **** of lust


Apology in advance for any offence caused


SL

At Freyja's Table**

******* Gods everywhere
******* here
And ******* there
They ******* **** and ******* ****
Some ******* clean
Some ******* muck
They **** in heaven
And in **** in hell
Cupids got them
under his ******* spell
With ******* arrows
in their ******* hearts
******* priests
******* tarts
******* freaky super powers
******* torrential golden showers
The ******* sparks
******* fly
******* ****** in their eyes
******* Eris causing troubles
******* Bacchus blowing bubbles
******* Sif is ******* Thor
More and more  
On the ******* floor
******* Gods everywhere
******* with their golden hair
Freyja clears her ******* table
Grabs any God that she's able
And ***** and *****
And licks and *****
******* breathless
Who ******* cares
******* Gods are everywhere
Discarded robes
that lay beneath
******* horns
and clenching teeth
They ******* ***
They ******* squirt
They *** again
Until they hurt
Steaming bodies
Sweaty hair
******* Gods are everywhere
No "modern God" was harmed during the production of this filthy work
Inspired by Cooper Clarke's "Chicken Town"
I feel strong tonight

A hundred songs burst from me

In colorful bloom

The darkness holds fear no more

I laugh in the face of death 



Dreams cannot threaten

I fear no nightly phantom

Day will come with joy

But until then I will sleep

And rest my wearied body. 



My mind is awake

Thought after thought captures me

Musings, wonderings, 

Daydreams before I slumber;

Life is bright and wonderful. 



Yes, I feel strong tonight.

— The End —