Thy guidance of aide.

Don’t guide me in the day 

which I need more at night.

Please all of these can not be seen through the hair of the sun,

where the pimples of the moon light every sinews of the shade of my soul.

Aide me of my own demise Amon Ra,

in the toll of your humid upon the back 

of my slavery upon myself.

Guide me my loving Selene,

for you give me refuge and nurture me,

not just nutritionally 

spiritually too.

Mine eyes

will see,

not the elemental things

not the lights to couple all sights.

Past was the force unseen,

Future are the things to be,

Yet I am still here,

with heart beating.



®Artsydhude 97-18



NsVs vs NmBs z056.i09

What is the vision of a 5 armed person.

Whereas its senses and tenses are adept of its adoptive limbs.

Indulge me my mother Tiamat where my fingers lay.

Where would be my index?

What is the thumb for?

How can I utilize that middle when its only for vulgarity.

Why is there even a ring when I am not interested in material gains.

Does a pinky even have its purpose.

If your heads did have a sense of its elements,

How would my senses be.

Can polymorph into a Voluptuous and seductive,


Then maybe a little nudge 

on that bed of what my head,

can ever assume.

At the end either knowing or not.

Can u or will u,


Do please teach me the way of tensed senses 

on all my two pair of my fingers.



®artsydhude 97-18


Embers of a day.

The sun is not here yet,

although I saw Apollo ‘s ride upon my back,

chasing the Phoenix again.

The Sun may come in a few,

then I hear the boom of orders from whips,

while those damn shamans kept repeatedly saying RA may come undone.

To that midnight sun that never sleeps,

Where Heimdall has branded a merchandise and advertising

sunglasses are a thing of a past,

Loki handed it and kept laughing.

Only at the end Heimdall lost an eye coz of that.

As Loki ran;

a brother with an avenging hammer at his side,

after everything was done.





Bakit sa bucket.

Tell me what is the first thing in mind,

what to do when a job or a career has ended.

List it some say,

Do it anyway,

or have tech do it for U.

Damn it all to pieces.

I’d get me one way ticket to the land of the rising sun,

where the hot mead doesn’t bore the soul.

In a stupor of wanting more 

a blonde aryan who can never speak,

but the butt and or it busts 

your alcohol down where it 

follows to where Nidhogg speaks.

Aye. . .

that be the land;

of ice and stone,

of the love of all gods dead and reborn,

of all wisdom in a mead out of a horn.

Then tell me you puny humans,

scurry about what life you can lead,

into a nonsensical greed of the weed,

that do become nothing into the air we all breathe.


©oam® all artworks by artsydhude 97-18


Pwm 2a.k1

At the mouth of that wretched cave,

she waits.

at the boulder where she gives none but all her daily love for him.

At times,

they speak of silence. . .

they speak of good times. . .

at the memories of golden days. . .

at the bitter taste of what she could have done or not.

Yet in his defense, he wanted none but all of them were stiff

as Tyr’s metal hand.

as Heimdall’s bluntness of his face.

In spite of it all,

this was no way to live.

He catapulted into a mind of atrocities.

His mind working so he can make that which will make all of them fall.

What twilight of days can amount to single word.


For all of them.

Yes ahh. . .

the poison is not working anymore,

In his head, the poison is there.



®artsydhude 7-18


NmV 0A:@4

Have I been cast aside,

into a boulder I did hide.

Can someone feed me lies,

Where they were or are of my paternal sight.

I keep praying , I keep it real as I cry.

A man’s name gave me strife at daylight,

My father told me straight,

Don’t you lie and tell me,

 “Nobody was here.”

Still I cry, 

not as a monster

not as a titan,

no one but a big fat,






The choice. T

To the south beam, a headline spelled H.A.D.E.S with a strikethrough in the middle, and corrected a greek name under the headline:


With a glance of the last letter lingering and wavering,

the depths of my soul shivered and a breeze of anti-freeze,

A negative temperature of the coldest Freon I can remember.

 I can sense and see a woman up around the bend.

With a gesture to behold,


Come Hither,

come near,

I myself will be your eye,

I myself will be the guide.

Dante would not come to you,

Virgil and Canto will not dare come near me.

Don’t be afraid,

My love.

I am here for you to know Tartarus

is a place of champions,

not of those who think otherwise.

As I am fixed on her words,

A face of old came,

From Bone to flesh,

Dipped from Styx,

This time Charon would have loved to come along.

He bowed,

As he knew this time,

That loneliness is with me,

Yet she is of 

To all things gathered,

In the magick of the heart.

There she stood,

My heart in volcanic vitals,

My flesh frozen in fear,

My mind devoid,

My soul ablazed in pure euphoric sense.

Only a god of old can surmise,

Only a god of old can take,

Only a god of old can hold.

There Hecate knew,

Were I one of them,

Nonetheless she gave me a full blown kiss.

And asked.

 “Would you like to stay,

Would you be here in a fallen state,

All that once can not be broken,

All that once shatters at a single mishap of your emotions,

Once a love can only be pure,

Once a love likened to have so much demure,

You can,

All control,

And none of it all,

is yours.

One rule,

You must submit to the demi here,

You must submit not to me,

Only Kronos can make you


or be a peon for his amusement.”

 as my head wavered,


and all sensations normalized,

all vitals neutralized,

Hecate took my body and laid me as she

would be a mother lovingly.

The last I saw,

and heard.

 My love, I see you are fit,

But I need you to tell them,

All these.

I love you,

I think you would have been a good demi here,


I love you my love.

See you in my dreams.




®artsydhude 07-18


The choice. V

The north pace I try.

The tears is its own weapon.

As it drops it is an icicle bearing all my years.

A sight on my eye colors of that boreal breathe upon my face.

Leaves every doubt, remorse and my devilry mucus shows up in my face.

My foot has numbed to its core.

Making this hobbit of a feet into a mid sized troll of 15 inch length and width.

As for my face all of my vein became blue to its core.

A life struck me,

where a viking  mistakenly took me as a horrid troll.

I lie in wait,

My mind was on a memory,

But a thought struck me with a palm sized,

Mjolnir broke and shattered all of me.

In one glance,

With no utterance of discrimination,

With no winded justification of prejudice.


Took my lifeless body and asked a simple one.

 “Do you yield?”

 A nod is all I can do.

In a leap of her kiss unto me.

We came into that hall,

Where no one is left behind,

All for one,

One for all.

Not in Aesir’s victory.

Nor Vanir’s way.

Not even all of Ymir’s wisdom.

Yes hereI shall stay,

where everyone fights and keeps the love of life:

Of mead and light to

which life happens for 

the sake of one’s cause,

to love not yourself, 

but the ones you hold and protect.





The function of:

Read me,

Use me.

Write the things you see in me.

You will see,

What you have been processing which once a relic to you,


Very relevant to you today.

That would be an epic reasoning to all that was once was,

only to know why,

Mythology was even there.