#ragnarok
I came to buy four kilos —
one last patch,
and then enough, I told myself.
New faces.
Dead eyes.
A “wait here”
that tasted like metal and regret.
Lines on the table—
not kindness,
just bait
for whatever fool walked in breathing.
And my pulse whispered,
soft but sharp:
Wrong house.
Wrong men.
Wrong night.
Then he came in—
the goon.
Pistol low,
morals lower,
breath smelling like tomorrow
wasn’t promised to either of us.
**** product,” I said.
**** future.”
And I—
I slammed their brick
into his wall
like a prayer
nobody sane would say.
He raised the iron.
And there—
right there—
the old hunter in me woke,
like Fenris rising in my eyes,
my gaze going full Ragnarok.
I lifted the bag.
Met his stare.
Said,
“Sorry, man… I’m ****** up.”
Paid the devil.
Walked out alive.
Walked out shaking.
Walked out knowing
I shouldn’t have walked out at all.
Four kilos.
One gun.
One dead man walking.
But the one who died—
wasn’t me.
It was the man
I used to be.
And he stayed in that room.
On that floor.
Under that gun.
Where I left him.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC
Tonight I drank from the well of Mímir
Saw where we started, Auðumbla, Ymir
I watched the Ash tree grow tall and strong
I saw it all, the right and the wrong
I saw Fenrir, bounded, subdued
I heard the last crackle and looked as he moved
Loki's last scream, the poison's last drop
I saw it all, I saw the Ragnarök!
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 9:09 AM UTC
Should we head onwards towards our future?
Make the best of what we've got.
Or set our sights on new beginnings,
And face the ragnarok.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
**The Precursor’s Psalms
Book Two
Chapters VI- X: Ragnarök
A sacred parcel to the soul who looks to ―raptured firmaments for their salvific benison. Se'lah.
VI: The Paean of Lovelight (The Paean of Lovelit Life)
1 Every particle in the soil of my epidermis roves for its emanation,
Its musicality, vibrating in pulsing fuchsia shockwaves,
This melodic energy is the Paean of Lovelit Life.
2 It reverberates the remittance in reminiscence;
yes, the Circle of Life breathes through the conduit,
it peregrinates
The ephemerality, even, the eternity in all entity.
(For in us exist dichotomies)
3 In a moment of self-revelation
I know naught but the vagary of the self;
still, the pain remains,
In the benighted truth of epiphany;
4 Yes, even,
Upon the Visage of Creation
All existence groans in groping
For its Nirvanic Pulse, ―like a wraith.
5 Finding meaning in all that I am,
all that I see, all there will be, and all that is,
I understand the fallacy in knowing, the bane in consciousness:
6 In an instant, one must forget
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all they have learned, all they feel, all they sense,
in the diminution of a moment
lest the soul relinquish that which does seamlessly transmit itself through
The Streams of Tempus Fugit.
VII: The Virescent Masquerade
1 Forsake all sorrows of the morrow, for
Beneath the Masquerader’s Virescently Butterfly-Winged Mask, there is a beckoning;
2 O, even amidst foible for which you long to be assoiled, excogitations do roil;
A tremulous heart: eventualities do saunter past, present,
future, and in communing you examine the finitude & the frailty
(Will their Exodus, my Exodus,
Come before I am ready?)
Of those in the Land of the Living.
VIII: Hierarchy of Sacrality
1 Wisdom
Is a cosmos,
2 Love,
―Invictus Dei,
3 Power,
The Cradle of Cosmogenesis,
4 Justizia,
Universal Scales through which Edicts of the Cosmogonist unfurl.
IX: Vagrant Story
1 Profundities lie in our vagrancies,
And in these there lie Faiths;
The faithful hunger for
―Virtue
For through these, we find a Savior.
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2 Our Deiform-Apotheosis is ordained by of the Arbiter of Fates,
3 He Is Our Nexus to Transcendence,
The Empyrean whom carnal perdition hast braved
X: Nelumbo Nucifera (Sacred Lotus)
1 ―O, Jah,
The Sovereign of Songbirds,
Sing in the Key of Elysium,
The Requiem of Our Swansong;
2 Beseech the Earthen Womb
Of the Terraqueous Mother
To conceive us anew that
We partake of an elemental legacy.
3 O, then
Might we re-alight,
Upon an aforetime wearied land,
―Nelumbo Nucifera: The Impregnable Sacred Lotus
4 Whose aegis’d petals through
Dusk, Dawn, Midday, Twilight, and Eve
Might effloresce
In the Aeonic Light of The Empyrean One.
(Se’lah).
Written on
Monday
May 20th, 2019
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May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 7:24 PM UTC
"Brothers will fight one another
and **** one another.
Cousins will break peace
with one another.
The world will be a hard place to live in.
"…an age of the axe, an age of the sword,
an age of storms, an age of wolves.
Shields will be cloven."
Brothers fought one another
and killed one another.
Cousins broke peace
with one another.
The world was a hard place to live in.
But this is no battlefield of
gods and men
Nor triumph over fell beast
and the splitting of shields.
This is the exploding shell
down cobbled streets of old;
of thatched roofs ablaze,
the ashen ruin of hearth and abode;
The weeping eye of Theotokos
in Ragnarǫk’s gaze.
Two decades before;
football on Christmas morn’.
'Stille Nacht' from the trench,
that soothing tune.
Giving of gifts and handshakes
And smiles in between,
When it first dawned upon you:
You were brothers.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
Look at you.
Getting beaten up,
Being everyones *****
What have you become?
A tired old man
A broken god
No one remembers the glory
No one remembers your help
The ravens have left you
They travelled south
Looking for other victims
Victims of fame and glory
They tortured you,
Tormented you,
Played you,
Glorified you.
And you prevailed,
Oh you conquered.
You led;
You achieved.
But you're just tired now,
This is part of your plan.
Time to go and relieve yourself.
Meet your Ragnarok
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC