Some Scant Poetry: "Angst in Progress"

Locks of fire, eyes so dark and haunting
The love of my dreams, the answer to my call
A rapturous maiden caught in my web
Willingly dying just to breath again

As the blue fires burn round and round
Nipping at our voices and blessed vices
Your breathing becomes stale and fervently stalling
And a wicked love is never satisfied

You run from me; I’m the darkness within
Encroaching and vile, withering and lustful
Insidious, worming, down on your knees
Surrender to me and be free on your chains

Believe in what for you I have built
A secret plateau where the dream-songs weep
Culling and creeping, they wash o’er your face
Filling your stuffing with ignorance and ecstasy

All around you, quenching your thirst for blood
Whispers dance and pirouette, kissing your ears
Masking the intention of their savage creator:
To love you eternally in solitude

You are beautiful to me in your loathing
Your hatred for me nourishing my narcissism
Love to execrate me, crave my gore
Upon your iniquitous hatemongering shall I feast

But dare you love me in return?
When I am but the shadow within your cold sweat?
Give unto me all of your sweet, sweet odium
For within it’s blackness, a perfume of hell shall I fuse

Scream for me, gift your last wisp of life
And I shall name my nostrum in your image:
Beautiful, maleficent, and mine

Swaying along to steady doldrums
The shadowy whisperings of soul
Slowly winding, perpetually grinding
The precarious pendulum now takes it’s toll

Avarice festers in roots of will
Ignorant to flesh’s corrupt decay
Hollow tickings releases scant pickings
And precious time has been lost on this day

Weathered eyes see the coming sepulcher
The veil of youth lifted; burned
The human condition breeds fell sedition
A mid-life crisis? Nay, it is murder

And within this parricide comes a longing
A base need for sedation and purpose
Coming in darkness, appealing to the loveless
It begs for the destruction of oneness

And yet without mercy or compassion
Oneness is what you are granted
Dying alone, in your cavernous home
No comfort to be had for the slighted

We are the bad kids, the ones in the basement
Content to watch our world crease
We look to the stars, all stitched and scarred
And wait for the pendulum to cease

Walking down streets alone
Going unnoticed; just another number
Seeking comfort and solace in all the wrong places
Knowing not if it truly exists

My heart grows cold as winter surges
Buried alive in bottled hatred
I begin to crack and crumble with every breath
Till anger becomes penultimate

And everything burns

Son to a murdered ideal
Patron to a dying cause
Slave to a perpetual revolution of souls
The time for lady death is nigh

Faith and a .45 are all I know
Wandering these sullen streets of vengeance
A gasoline can in my fist and a match in my teeth
No one is safe as I let loose my rage

And everything burns

Do you see me sitting here?
Hollow hands, empty pockets?
In these eyes burn the intense seething of hell
And on the darker side of the sun will I roam

Self-destruction calls us to action
A rebirth of the demon within us all
Waiting on gods and their puppets no longer
Time to open that door to the other side

And make everything burn

Maidens of three weave their strings
A tapestry of old, new, and yet to be
With delicate fingers they pull tight the threads
And create a cambric dress to be worn by the chosen

Past, present, future is gifted
To a child born upon the night of solstice
A woman-child created by force of will
A new mother to guide the fading stars to rest

But taken by the Norns in fear

Raising the child beneath their feet
Aiming to take her visions for their own
They rejoice and think themselves goddesses
But the heavens grow dull and destiny becomes blind

The tale of a shieldmaiden turned thrall and slave
Of unspeakable beauty and far-seeing power
Soon spread through all the lands of the north and west
And soon came to the halls of Bloodaxe

An aged king of old with honor to gain and give
He sent his legions of warriors and ships
Intent on claiming the goddess-born for his new bride
To bear him a son to fill his empty house

But the Norn’s weaving never ceases

A violent tempest is released upon the world
Ocean’s breath turns to frost, and the ships are ensnared
Bloodaxe’s kingdom falls into famine and disease
Yggdrasil’s branches turn yellow and black

But one hope remained: a hero among men

The man-child Lohric took up his dying father’s sword,
Prying the black hilt from the icy clutches of the sea
Angrim was the name of the foul blade-bared
Cursed by dwarves to cause death and bloodlust

Lohric’s veins breathed rage aflame
His seething aimed at the Norns of destiny
And so he stood atop the dragon’s head
Spying the frozen wasteland that stretched for eternity

Vowing honor and vengeance for his loss
He set out across the tundra, alone
The Norn’s blinded by their pride and fear
Failed to see the coming of man to their sanctuary

Months of traveling through ice and snow
An interminable ocean to cross by foot
Sustained by will and the sword alone
Lohric fell into hatred and blackness

No longer a boy, but a man; a berserker-birthed

After a lifetime of searching the wastes
Lohric found that great white spire of legend
And with his fell blade he stormed their ramparts
Cleaving all those who would call themselves Norn

Until he came to the highest room
The prison of the shieldmaiden-fair
Chained to the wall, unable to move
She pleaded with Lohric to lay down his steel

But the darkness rooted within would not ebb

Taking her life in a fit of rage
Unable to contain the hatred in his fists
Her blood stained deep her once-perfect cambric dress
And Lohric fell to his knees in shame

It was then that the curse on the blade was broken
Ultimate evil having completed it’s task
For now Ragnarok ceases to come; the cycle forever broken
And man will now live and die for all time

The stars had never burned brighter, as the gods were no more