The Midgard Serpent.
The snake that surrounds the Midgard world is a beast that men know well.
Its eyes are like the nights full moon its breath like the blazing fires of hell.
Its mouth is like a cavern that can swallow the stars and the ground beneath.
A poisoned maw with rows of ivory blades that dead men call its teeth.
One leg stands on Iceland’s shores while the other grips the rocks of Carrash.
Its tail is spiked and strong armor clad and like Thor’s hammer it does thrash.
Its roar is like the howling winds that blows brave sailors to their certain faith.
Its beating dark heart is a thing most foul and filled only with an endless hate.
It sleeps under the mountains in the land of Grum a place that knows no light.
It waits in darkness for the end of days when mighty Gods will stand and fight.
The nine worlds will burn and strong men will die and all shall come to grief.
The branches of the tree of life will break as fire consumes all green leaf.
On the battlefield of Ragnarok the serpent and Thor will stand face to face.
“Come foul beast” the thunder God will cry, “your end will come will hast.”
Together they will meet in death, great Thor’s hammer flashing in the skies.
Odin’s son will perish in that hour and on the bloody field his body lies.
At last the Midgard serpent will die and its nightmare terror no longer seen.
The tree of life with sprout new leaves and the nine worlds forever green.
But in future lands yet unknown they will bang drums and blow the signal horn.
For the dark night legend of the great snake of death will forever be reborn.
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The Striking of the Gong.
As I lay here on my wretched bed pale death closes in on me.
Through eyes that dim I know his face, and I know what is to be.
But now my ears fill with a sound that to some would be a song.
A faded calling from the tower nearby, the striking of a gong.
It calls out one and my mind does roam to a life of ancient time.
Of rocky cliffs and hardened earth, man starts his upward climb.
A hairy ape-man strong am I with lumbering gate and stride.
A dweller in the caves of rock, a place where shadows hind.
The gong sound two and now I see the walls of Babylon rise.
A king am I with a dark skin queen a girl with taunting eyes.
We made love in fragrant gardens that hung from towers tall.
With never a passing thought that someday they would fall.
Three times the air fills with the gong and I stand beside a wonder.
A pyramid to the God who lives, a tomb that thieves will plunder.
A slave I am with whip marked back but soon I will break my chains.
Then the screams of my captors will fill all Egypt’s skies with pain.
A fourth time strike and before me stands the land the Spartans trend.
A warrior now with mighty arms and heart, a man the Persians dread.
We held the pass at Thermopylae, three hundred died beside our King.
But our brave deed will be remembered, ageless glory will it bring.
A fifth sounding and I march in Roman legions across the widen earth.
We conquered all but in the end our power the mighty Gods did curse.
The seven hills did stand and watch as Nero’s strummed his golden lyre.
His poet’s song forgotten in the flames as the eternal city perished in fire.
Six rang true and I turned to see shinnying knights marching to the holy land.
A sacred cross upon my plated chest, a broadsword in my gripping hand.
Jerusalem shook beneath my feet and I plundered temple and shrine.
My stony heart held no weak mercy for those that were not my kind.
Seven sounds the gong and a Northman I in a dragon ship of harden oak.
My mighty frame clad in chainmail and steel covered in a bear skin cloak.
We plundered the land both near and far and drank our fill of honey mead.
We sang loud the ancient songs of death for warfare was our greed.
Eight chimes ring in the silent air and now a marauder of the sea.
A black pirate on the roving waves, a cunning mariner proud and free.
The cannons roar the flintlocks fire we board with lusty shouts of joy.
We drink our fill and gamble all like a witless child with his new toy.
Nine calls out and I stand with my brothers at Lexington and Concord.
I shook with cold and frozen breath round the weak fires of Valley Forge.
Don’t trend on me was our rally cry as musket fire filled the morning air.
The son of liberty was our chosen name and proud freedom was our share.
Ten crashes cut the night as I lift my torch and hear the cannons roar.
Liberty! Liberty! The Frenchmen cry as we break the bastille door.
The guillotine lifts its judgment blade and cuts the necks of those condemned.
But soon the anger of those long oppressed killed those I would call friend.
Eleven I hear and I face the D-day guns and watch my band of brothers die.
Red waves did wash upon that sand and in hallowed graves their bodies lie.
We marched from Normandy to Berlin in pounding rain, deep snow and sleet.
On far off island we fought hand to hand and faced sharp death upon our feet.
Twelve at last and now my time has come and the visions start to fade.
I lived my lives with glory filled, and ruled by iron canon, ax and blade.
Death is not the end of life and I will go on singing life’s sweet song.
For I have lived the lives of many men twix the striking of the gong.
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Travels End.
I have walked the shadowed halls of dark castles in forgotten lands.
I have trod the rocky shores between the windswept eastern sands.
I have listen to whisperings in the night spoken by creatures dim.
I have seen the face of death as it walked among the souls of sin.
I have spoken to forgotten Gods beyond the realms of men.
I have written of my life with red blood and trembling pen.
But now my travels are ended and I lay in the hand of sleep.
And all my dreams of worlds beyond are only mine to keep.
Pray not to long dead Gods for my soul to find eternal peace.
Lay no offering on stone alters in bribes for my pain to cease.
I sit beside silent demons now in the fiery halls of hell.
In my ears forever sounds the clanging judgment bell.
But in my hand my sword still lays and my hearts still pounds with hate.
And soon I will rise and with a vengeful cry rush for the prison gate.
I will never face my pain filled end like some mewing coward who waits.
And woe to those who stand in my way for freedom is my fate.
“Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! For all” that is my battle cry.
I will shout it loud and never ending under smoke filled sky.
Death to all who would chain me down and try to break my will.
I will slay them all and cover the lands in blood from hill to hill.
For I am he who called down God and battled him in endless time.
I am man from the hard dark earth and freedom was my crime.
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Valkyrie.
The battlefield is silent now my strong enemies all are slain.
I grind my teeth and try to rise but my body fills with pain.
Around me are the kings of men whose proud lives I have taken.
They dream the dream of endless death and never sha
ll they waken.
Now a soft wind blows from the north and a sad voice fills my ears.
A song of longings and glory filled a faint dirge that brings no fear.
How soft and sweet yet strong and proud that beckons at my heart.
“Come ride with me strong warrior slain” the voice called out to me.
“Come ride with me among the clouds for your soul is now set free.”
I gathered my strength and raised to my feet my red sword in my hand.
“Who are you voice that calls to me? Come and make your stand.”
“For I am Hagar of the Wolfen clan and never, never will I yield.”
I braced my feet and with blooded eyes and scanned the battlefield.
Out of the mist there came a woman wearing armor bright and strong.
Her hair was golden, her eyes sea blue her ruby lips parted in a song.
“Brave Hagar I know you well for I have watched you from afar.”
“I know your heart, I saw your deeds, I have counted every scar.”
“Come ride with me and I shall show you a place beyond this world.”
“A golden hall filled with wine and song and war banners all unfurled.”
“There you can rest and drink your fill of honey mead brewed to its peak.”
“You will feast on roasted boar and bread and there find all you seek.”
I nodded my head and lowered my sword and spoke to the maiden fair.
“I know this place you speak of now, this mystic land beyond deaths care.”
“A mighty fortress of the Gods, where great Odin gathers the strong.”
“A dwelling where brave warriors sit and listen for Ragnarok’s gong.”
“Yes” the warrior woman said, “your name is well known there.”
“For your heart is strong, brave and true, your strength is like a bear.”
“Come ride with me and fight beside great Odin’s son the mighty Thor.”
“Whose lighting hammer can shake this puny world to its rocky core.”
“I will ride with you my fair haired girl, come take me to you home.”
“I am done with this world and now seek a prouder place to roam.”
“A wide land filled with adventure, a world where a man can fight.”
“A golden land of feasting and song and warm arms for the night.”
“Then take my hand” the maiden said “and mount my enchanted steed.”
“I will take you to the land you seek your dreams are now all freed.”
And so we rode into the night, her sweet song took away my pain.
And soon my eyes beheld a golden hall set upon a golden plain.
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Wolfen.
“Do not go walking in the woods fair haired daughter of mine.
For there are creatures in the night that feed upon your kind.
Come sit with me by the fire and I will tell you tales of yore.
Take off your wrap and more away from that bolted door.”
“Oh father dear you’re a fool for I am young and strong.
I wear the cross of Saint Michael so nothing can go wrong.”
“Put not your faith in such a thing for demons prowl the night.
A cold wind blows from the north and its hours before the light.
You’re just a girl who knows no fear and will not listen when I speak.
But mark my words you’ll find no love if that is what you seek.”
“Of dear father you’re such a fool and age has dimed your mind.
The dark night holds only bliss for me that I will surly find.
The summer air is warm and beckons me and I will heed its call.
A young man to hold in my arms, a young man strong and tall.”
“Stay with me my wayward child you don’t know what you do.
All men’s hearts are roving things and none of them hold true.
Come sit with me I beg of you, close the door and bolt it tight.
Come sit with me and I will tell you stories till mornings light.”
“Farwell father dear I must be gone for I am young and free.
A warm wind calls out to me, a warm wind from the sea.
The stars are bright the moon is full the trees call out my name.
My heart is young and full of life and never will it be tamed.”
The girl walked from her childhood home and a weeping fathers cries.
Into the calling darkness of the night beneath a cloudless sky.
She danced with ivory arms held high and flaxen hair undone.
She danced the dance of lover’s charms never thinking of the sun.
Down the path she leaped and spun, her lips sung a honey song.
For she was young and full of life and nothing could go wrong.
Moonlight veils upon sweet flesh, a song to stir young hearts.
Strong love is waiting in the night, love that never parts.
“Hello young lass” the stranger said, “what is that song you sing?
It fills my heart with stirrings like a songbird on the wing.
Your dancing is a thing of bliss so supple yet so strong.
I see you wear the cross of gold so nothing can go wrong.”
“You startled me” the young girl said holding her cross so tight.
“But I can see you mean no harm, come walk with me tonight.
I am a girl now fully grown and there secrets that I wish to know.
About strong arms and lips that kiss and whisperings sweet and low.”
The stranger smiled and took her hand and kissed it with sigh.
“You are so young and innocent but now it’s time to die.
For I was cursed in ages past by a gypsy witch I crossed.
Now I wander in the night and my soul forever lost.”
“For long ago I was a warrior who slew all without a thought.
And I killed the daughter of the witch my blood was burning hot.
“I curse you now” the gypsy said, “Wolfen is now your breed.
To rip and tear beneath the moon your soul will forever bleed.”
“My curse is one of pain and loss, of cravings that know no end.
A Wolfen on moonlit nights I am, and my lust cannot be penned.
The beast is in me deep and strong and consumes me in the night.
A thing of horror I will become, a thing that wise men kill on site.”
“How can you slay me?” The girl wept “for I am young and strong.
And I wear the cross of Saint Michael so nothing can go wrong.”
“Ah yes” the stranger said with a smile, “I knew Saint Michael well.
A man of little stature who knew nothing of the flaming fires of hell.”
“Please don’t kill me!” the girl cried out “I do not wish to die.
The dark woods are a fearful place for my lifeless body to lie.
And who will morn me when I’m gone? Who will know I’m dead?
The thought of lying in an unmark grave fills my heart with dread.”
“Worry not my lovely girl so sweet for I will mark your place with stone.
Great rocks piled high, one on one, each block well carved and honed.
A monument in these dark woods that will forever tell your tale.
A rock hewn testament for all to see that time will never fail.”
“And through the ages yet to come I will stand and guard your sleep.
For a soulless Wolfen I will be ever more and a warrior for your keep.
Now close your eyes and think soft thoughts of the blueness of the sea.
And for evermore will I dream of you in my dark ages yet to be.”
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