"ragnarok" poems
Ignorances innate wove curtain of veils
Cut usunder heretofore obscuring
Bodhicittas valedictory wintry gloom torn
Of enlightenments will factioning the
Silenced mammonish city kingdom truced
As the wings of Azrael clinch
Earthly thistles; monolithic raiments
Deposed Hull, Hell and Halifax parcae
The willowing of light unfettering Fenrirs
Durance, howling aconite psalms suspiring
Suffrage relict paving with mewed stars
Redemptions tithed talents bequeathed
Of Heavens sinister prayer burning
Acinta dusts thine ashes threading
The wilful sword of Gods destruction.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
‘Twas during inner turmoil that a certain yearning arose
Whispers of breakage reaching deeper as time goes
From the disillusionment of reality it was forged
Of seething rage the desires hunger gorged
In following certain conformities felt like being a prisoner
The will to resist the motions of many being aimed to muster
To not be like a tree that has to be cut or uprooted just to move
To be driven by reasons that to only ones viewpoint can behoove
Looking at another view of the coming uncertainty
As a pathway to many possibilities with regards to unpredictability
That stopping a tragedy is sometimes not the thing to do
Lest one forgets that the phoenix must burn down to rise anew
Or that Ragnarok is followed by a great rebirth
Who can know what revelations a raging flood might unearth?
Being lost might as well be the way to find an elusive longing
The remedy to the Anhedonia closely and ominously looming
When being chained to the rhythm just compares to an inner futile feeling
Knowing that a greater horizon is missed by the act of settling
A bet on the odds that epiphany might be found in whatever form
To behold serendipity actually being brought by the coming inner storm
In using the great idleness to plan the restoring of a balance
And to see clearly without the feeling of rushing pressure and turbulence
The path and pace may change to the deeper quest not yet ceased
In bringing forth the long sought betterment through a cataclysmic release.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
I will love you seven days a week.
I will tell you tales, and love you as we speak.
I will love you today,
And I will love you more each day.
I will love you like Monday.
Like how the Moon loves to kiss the bay.
Like what happened on July 20, 1969,
I will take the risk like my life is on the line.
Because this day will be the start,
Of a one giant leap for my heart.
I will love you like Tuesday.
Like how Ares loves to slay.
I will fight for you till the end of the week,
And claim you as the prize that I seek.
Because even the God of War,
Lost the battle to the one he adore.
I will love you like Wednesday.
Like how Hermes loves to play.
To your heart, I will become a guide.
Everything that you'll need, I will provide.
Every problem we will outwit.
We will face it together, we won't quit.
I will love you like Thursday.
Like how Thor loves to throw his hammer away.
I'll try to be perfect like him,
Even though I am weak and I am slim.
And when our love meets Ragnarok,
I will remind you how I love you again like an alarm clock.
I will love you like Friday.
Like how Freya loves her beauty to be portray.
On this day I will adore your beauty,
I'll touch and give pleasure to your body.
I'll bring you gifts and other thing,
And I'll hope that one day you'll wear that diamond ring.
I will love you like Saturday.
Like how Cronus loves to eat a new-borns buffet.
How I hope I won't suffer the same fate,
Because did you know what happened to this mate?
I promise not to be a Cronus.
I'll love you and our children as a bonus.
I will love you like Sunday.
Like how the Sun loves to give us a brand new day.
This may be the end of the week,
But my love for you won't end, this I speak.
For I love you seven days a week,
And I'll end everyday with a kiss on your cheek.
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 1:38 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
Like a Shakespearean sonnet it’s tragically written, but it’s no tragedy
Nor novel, journal entry, or even biography
It’s not an adventure, no action, no horror, no drama
It’s not very entertaining, like a speech from Obama
It has no family or friends, it’s all alone.
It’s nothing special, just a poem…
It’s not up, it’s not down, no smile nor frown
It won’t make a man famous or a king lose his crown
It can’t make a nomad settle forever or a hermit leave his home
It’s nothing special, just a poem…
It’s hideous not beautiful like a flower
It’s boring like staring at a wide white wall for an hour
It doesn’t smell delicious like an apple pie
It’s not even funny enough to make you cry
It’s not new, but old, chiseled out in stone
It’s nothing special, just a poem…
It’s not chaotic like Ragnarok, or calm like the sunrise
It’s not angry, happy, or sad, there’ll be no tears in your eyes
It has no meaning, the author will never be known
After all it’s nothing special, just a poem…
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
Once upon a frozen land,
pity weigt upon your soul.
You saw it fit to take me, then,
and offer me a home.
Seems I was never in the right,
though He was never wrong --
what fool was I to never question
where I, true, belonged.
Years drifted past us quietly,
dripped from both our hands,
but you had always known the truth
despite your careful dance.
Now that I've seen your clever ruse,
and I, your son no more..
Ragnarok, one day, shall come --
your crimes, you'll answer for.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
This used to be home.
This sweet darkness swallowing you up.
What fearlessness became this strength you claim?
You, who poetry evades.
We danced to the tune of your sorrow,
now sickly tunes of order pollute your mind.
Oh! The dread you did incite!
What choirs did cry!
You.
My rising little sin.
Did you not shudder when I pierced you?
When I drew upon you
tales that memory cannot forsake.
With blood so flowed your words,
creation in it's purest form.
What is your deepest fear?
That I have left you,
or that you are broken?
You are reaching into darkness,
clawing depths to the gears that grind the beauty,
to ignite the chaos you desire.
An unfamiliar beast lies in wait.
You do not know it's name.
The machinery has evolved,
advanced.
Your demons have left Hell
& you.
Abandoned.
You cannot see the God
growing behind your tongue
so build no coffins yet.
Light has macerated misery
but it has spoiled no talent.
You are not dead.
Horror still shapes
the Ragnarok engine of your hands.
A new Devil awaits
to prepare your throne.
If only you will
Rise.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
In Summer's Season
Winter bites the neck of Spring
Doomsday Upon Us.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
goodbye poetry
some get none
now to write for a cause and not applause
majoring in alienation
hijack a popular avatar
just for a pyrrhic victory
put everything into the microwave
universal wealth care
***** it all
ensuring that all this isn't for everyone
only the best continue following
gone to get a life
(aka self-inflicted pain experience)
real life just dragged on and on
the same names keep coming back
observing their well-established cliques
like an anthropologist observing chimps
that glorious era
when the streams of consciousness
suffered a drought
maelstrom of ragnarok
took summer off life support
tasty
electoral fraud as a way of life
just shredded all the "yes" votes so nobody would know
looking to buy an extremist audience
and wondering if maybe walmart has one
the carnage has just begun
seething rage into the vault
tabs opened to liveleak videos of beheadings
all that freedom and she says "vanilla, please"
ideas with which everyone agrees
ideas embraced by all
everyone loves megalomania
everyone enjoys violent passion
everyone loves paroxysms
90 percent of you don't actually exist
low intelligence levels in all but four followers
make that five
hail eris hail discord hail chaos
mark all as read
mark all as ******
trapped in a vicious cycle
eating white toasted bread and acting all stable
invisible at last
discovered a way to speak
freely without judgment
discovered a way to avoid
positive feedback
sitting down for lunch with two popes
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
I lift heavy covers to expose
What's mine to behold.
Snow skin, sweet drops of
Salty dew from within.
Flesh female, lady
Bones, choir cells whisper
Their name; *Woman.
Woman. Woman.*
Eyes smiling. Mouth smiling.
******* smiling. Womb
Smiling. The rest either
Giggles or shines.
Tattoo of the Midgard Serpent
Around her upper thigh.
Snake of Norse mythology,
Coiled around the world,
Own tail in mouth. When it
Lets go, the world will end.
Its fangs are mine in you.
Poison lust. Venom love.
Refusing to release the
Ragnarok of our common heart,
I slowly kiss its every scale in
Submission.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
Once upon abysmal time,
A dismal time I should dare say,
There lived a miser man, the wiser
To the woeful ways of man.
He lived in pallid peace and torment,
Abhorrent in his solemn sight,
For he could see forever - the better
To know the woeful ways of man.
The world's collapsed inside his head,
Transpired into some sepulchre.
Ragnarok had come and run
To purge the woeful ways of man.
Corruption was a fever dream,
Demeanour only ghosts aloft.
Extinction came without distinction
To end the woeful ways of man.
There was but one survivor left,
The wiser to his dying ways.
He saw the placid land, made tacet
By the woeful ways of man.
Nothing left to spoil the view,
The toils so wrought were gone at last.
The man laid down and died: Goodbye,
O woeful ways of man.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
On Wednesday's end,
The great wolf has his fill,
The doom of the deities,
The submerging of the hill,
On Wednesday's end,
Dead, Golden decievers call,
The doom of the deities,
The day that thunder falls,
On Wednesday's end,
The serpent stirs the sea,
The doom of the deities,
The groaning of the tree,
On Wednesday's end,
The Sun is born anew,
The twilight of the deities,
The day the eagle flew,
On Wednesday's end,
The great wolf breathes his last,
The doom of the great snake,
The time of the Gods now past.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
It is Ragnarok in the heavens
as the long snouted giant wolf Fenrir
faces off against rust colored clouds.
The Midgard serpent
stretches its purple, orange, and grey
body across the sky,
while embers of Surtur’s raging flames
cascade like spiraling waves
during the last seconds of
this dying day.
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
-Dear God..
Can you hear my prayers..
Or will my words be swallowed in the snow..
I always feared suffering in your endless inferno..
I can almost hear the screams of the afterlife..
Torture is the ultimate cost of sin..
-To you..Mighty Zeus..I pray..
With trailes of blood and tears on my cheeks..
Your presence fills my lonely days..
Your crystal-draped whispers give me a hint of safety..
Hell is only temporary..eternal is Heaven..
Tartrus is the devine punishment..
To the ones who refuse submission..
And Hades..is the land of lost souls..
-Tell me..Great Odin..
Can you hear the agonized screams of your loyal slaves?
Can you see them waging wars in your name?
Raising the black flags of destruction?
Or are you too busy sipping your precious nectar?
Our silence is not the answer..
We shall ascend to your Asgard..We shall break your throne..
Remember..Great Odin..
Ragnarok approaches!
Divinity is only temporary..eternal is Valhallah..
And injustice is a sin..punishable by death..
-Forgive me..Amun-Ra
I fear the darkness that is you..
I kneel before your divine image..
I tremble at the sound of your voice..
Redeem me..of the evil that is you
From the wrath embracing my entity..
And reward me..with your resonating light..
Blood..is the cost of forgiveness..
-Dear God..hear me..
Whoever you are..
Whatever name you may hold..
I beseech your wisdom..
They see you in statues..in Heaven..in death..
I see you in the verses of the Bible..
The hymns of the angels..
The warmth of melody..
The scent of parchment..the softness of silk..
I see you in the parades of death..to our sacrificed martyrs..
I see you in her braids..her voice..
The dance we had..
You're the beats of my cold heart..
I ask no forgiveness..but I seek inception..
A chance to start over..
To fall in love once more..
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
This
Is
Ragnarok
The violent end of worlds you’re pagan ancestors feared
Watch as the strikes from Thor steal your comrades from you
No Valkyries to guide you
No Valhalla to welcome you
Ankle deep in mud and rats and **** you load your rifle begging the God you believe in that you won’t have to **** another man
How did you find yourself here?
An Englishman fighting Germans in France
Because a Serbian killed an Austrian in Bosnia
Or an Italian, 43 years after your country was unified
Or a Serbian, longing to free your countrymen from Austro-Hungarian oppression
Or maybe your a Russian, a Frenchman, a Turk
Hear the whistle blow
Now is your time to storm from the trenches into razor wire and the the hail of bullets
You will likely be slaughtered
Like the 40,000 French soldier during one week of the war
This is a tragedy
But this is also a holy experience
Like for T E Lawrence
Fighting for a cause he never thought he would believe in
Or Ernst Jünger
Surviving bullet after bullet
Endless bombardments
This is the heroes journey
Do not let your children’s children take away from your sacrifice
When they say you died for nothing
You believed in your nation and you believed in yourself
Do not let them take that away from you
You who returned home and were ignored if not simply forgotten
Who returned home missing limbs, missing homes, missing loved ones
You who were traumatized shell shocked
Who could not return home
Who returned to what was supposed to be home
But life went on without you
So you found those who fought with you
From your bonds you formed brotherhoods
Formed paramilitaries
But that all comes later
Right now you look death in the eyes and can’t help but laugh
Laugh to keep yourself from crying
Laugh because you have never felt more alive than in this moment and never will again
And in this moment you can’t help but cry out
AVANTI
ARDITI
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 10:14 PM UTC
The city was laid like a wasteland
Like a rusting, crumbling sore,
Half of the houses were boarded up
Along a neglected shore,
The spirit had long gone out of it
That had made the city great,
Men fifty miles to the south of it
Were determining its fate.
Way up on the Presidential floor
Was a group of greedy men,
The czars of the old industrial core
Who had bled the town back then,
‘The real estate’s a disaster,’ said
A man who had been the Mayor,
‘The auto plants are a rusting heap,’
Said the man who held the Chair.
‘We’ve got more pensioners on the funds
Than workers in the plants,
There’s crime and violence in every street
And the Unions make demands.
So what’s the conclusion, gentlemen,
Do we give this plan its head?’
‘Whatever we do, it’s much too late,
The city’s as good as dead!’
And that’s how they came to build ‘The Tower’
To illuminate the sky,
‘There’s plenty of work for everyone
At a hundred storeys high!’
Nobody knew just what it did
Or what they were building for,
They only knew that they had a wage,
Could hold up their heads once more.
A central lift in The Tower went up
And down ten times a day,
Taking tools and materials
To restrict the Tower’s sway,
‘They say we’re going to go High-Tech
And they’re closing down the Plants,
The days of auto’s have gone for good
But they won’t tell us their plans.’
The Tower was built within the year
With a gaping hole up top,
A semi drove through the streets one day
And by The Tower, it stopped.
It carried a massive box-like thing
With a mass of flashing lights,
Was loaded into the lift, and sent
Up on its maiden flight.
They took it up and it crowned The Tower
While the people watched in awe,
There hadn’t been people in the streets
Like this since the Second War.
A massive counter was counting down
As the people stood and cheered,
‘I hope it’s not what I think it is,’
Said a man with a long, white beard.
While down in the Presidential Suite
Just fifty miles away,
A group of men put their sunnies on
And stood by the window bay,
‘Well how do you clear a festering slum,’
Said one, as he watched the clock,
While back at The Tower a sign lit up
And the word was ‘Ragnarok!’
David Lewis Paget
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
New gods are rising
Up from the mud
At the place where streams of blood
Fed by the violence of ignorance and greed
Flow together at last
Into the great river
New gods are rising
Beautiful and strong
From the sacrifices of the oppressed
The marginalized, ignored, the mocked and reviled
New faces, new races
The mud of the river
New gods are rising
Free of the chains
And fetters of antique gender expectations
Not willing to be defined or bound by anatomy
Only spirit and dreams
Down by the river
Old white gods in dotage
Behind their great walls
Are blinded by their own reflections
In the highly polished arrogance of power and wealth
Unaware of the river
And the mud and the blood
And the battle ahead
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
A portal appeared
Thin line sheared
Ripping the world
As the end neared
For cataclysm came
Ragnarok Regained
The gods they fell
The mortals to blame
Thus darkness came
Descent into hell
Lightnings they strike
With storms that hail
Some devils do call
While others may fail
Yet heroes do rise
In light they shine
Rising at the moment
What fate defines
Ready to battle
To war they ride
A shout TO ARMS!
Their enemies do cry
Some may flee
And others do die
The devil had felled
A hero had rised
The day was won
Terra his bride
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 9:49 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
She was born in 1980.
When the world hoped that World War won't start tomorrow!
In 1991 though,World was somehow revealed,
Though believed conflict's bow would shoot the war's arrow!
She feared whenever Indo-Pakistan war started,
Pakistan ended up in obvious failure.
She hoped that failure's fire wouldn't be provided revenge's fuel,
Ending up in the peace's failure ....
Mother Nature was exploited day by day
And she knew that humans needed to restore and protect environment.
So did the leaders or that's what she assumed,
Until Uncle Sam pulled out of Paris agreement!
North Korea and the USA played game of diplomatic tension ,
Just to decide whose button was powerful of the most!
Syrians saw their country burning in front of their eyes
And the Holy city of Jerusalem was now conflict and tension's host!
She saw Taliban, ISIS and extremist organizations growing
And she saw how they and even Uncle Sam would suppress humanity!
'Peace, freedom and equality ' were mere lies
Some tried to make them the truth and some openly promoted conflict and inequality !
She heard people around the globe , who weren't murdered for the speech
'This is 21st century, with peace,freedom and equality around the globe we are safe'.
But with the violation of the human rights and the fear of any conflict turning into World War 3
How she could feel safe?
It was like her world wasn't her own!
They owned it, so they decided when to start war and when to reason it with 'due to violation of the humanity' !
She saw the mask drop,
And that ugly face of war with intention of the Ragnarok behind mask of peace, freedom, equality and humanity ...
What could she do? Protest?
So that she is harassed and murdered the next day?
Then she realized, she could do nothing ,
But to hope that World War won't start today!
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC
Eleven fifty three.
i can't think, it's getting too close
what will happen in the end,
will it be happy, morose?
i can't function, i can't.
Eleven fifty four.
****
a minute closer to oblivion,
a minute farther from ascension,
please tell me there's a heaven.
Eleven fifty five.
**** i haven't done everything i've wanted to, i didn't i didn't i didn't
but i couldn't.
i wouldn't.
motivation, where are you?
happiness, you too?
help, i'm still the same little lost girl as i was five years ago.
Eleven fifty six.
i accept it.
death here i come,
Apocalypse, trample me with your hooves.
i'm prepared in not being prepared,
but rather, by being accepting.
whatever you've to offer, Ragnarok,
i'm ready.
Eleven fifty seven.
three more.
three more until this hell is over,
and then I enter another hell,
or heaven.
but there is no heaven for a heathen hiding under a catholic's beliefs.
there is hell for those mentally unwell,
those who have attempted to enter it during life
on their own accord.
i'm just a shell of what i once was,
seeking the same thing i used to be.
Eleven fifty eight.
two.
through all my sorrows,
losses,
and tomorrows,
i fear i haven't learned everything i could have.
flawful, still,
awful, still.
soon i'll just be
still.
Eleven fifty nine.
i'm sorry mother,
forgive me father,
i love you brother,
i have no sister.
to my friends,
farewell,
and to my enemies,
i'll be seeing you in hell.
let's put everything behind, and accept each other, alright?
alright.
Twelve o'clock.
Midnight.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
There was a looming darkness that consumed a crimson red sky
The cries of the wounded could be heard as it echoed far and wide
A warrior saturated in his own blood a badge of honor this sweet savage death
He held on with courageous valor until he breathed his final breath
Remembering tender moments of his true love as they quickly began to fade
His heart spilling his life force as it flows from beneath the blade
While he succumbs to an eternal sleep a soft hand embraces his face
Perhaps it is the woman he loves that even death cannot erase
Above the scent of scattered bodies an unfamiliar odor fills the air
Just a hint of mandrakes rises above the cries of despair
A voice the warrior has never heard before comforts him with these words
“No worries my love I am here for you,” but in the shadows he saw black birds
In a daze his eyes caught a glimpse of the woman who had kneeled by his side
An alluring dark angel with her elongated wings spread across the great divide
She wore a golden helmet embedded with dark feathered wings
Her curvaceous ***** shielded with a breastplate designed by Odin her king
The Valkyrie planted a gentle kiss upon the warrior’s lips
As his spirit departed from his body it was captured with a mighty grip
They ascended towards the heavens dark skies on her powerful steed
A mighty dominion of Valkyries trailed behind with relentless speed
To Valhalla is the warrior’s destination another battle he must face
In Ragnarok fighting alongside Odin with departed warriors who were transported to this place
Perhaps it was magic the Valkyries used to enchant the blood splattered terrain?
A slight of hand with a twist of fate the choosers of the slain.
© 4/23/2019
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC
Woden comes, lighting through clouds, won’t be long now.
Time to pay your sums, ragnarok has begun.
I seen it in the night through fates eye, steel on bone
Valkyries on shadow wind, mounts a blaze light the sky
Deadly sharp, war-painted and marked
Shields and ravens, hammers and horror
Raising prayers on the winds of dust and bone.
Come to carry you home, not before this battle is done.
Fetid axe with poison deep, here to steal souls not while they Sleep.
ready to reap what we have sown on this field of blood and bone
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
I want to love!
The kind of love that doesn't make sense.
The love that leaves you in nirvana
.
.
.
.
.
.....
...
.
Don't fall in love with me though.
That'll be sad!
For i know myself, i was the cause of ragnarok in my own heart.
Laufeyjarson!!😂
Mar 3, 2022
Mar 3, 2022 at 5:01 AM UTC