AuVi 04.iv

Here in my head 

I see none withstand

all of my musings.

Comparing it with a belief

of the past concieved,

do all my longings forward

into Elysian Fields.

Still I traverse

everyday in my solemn

way down to the mind,

where the bellows of 

Tartarus in conception

with all the people that

still live here in the hallowed halls

that echoes the world in Hades’ grip.


NmBs 1095b.v

I held my own Excalibur,

Someone tossed it while

I looked for my own Mjolnir,

Then I held that Draupnir,

while my arms were my own Gladius.

I can be my own weapon,

only to know that this tongue is the sharpest,

and my attitude is the defensive shield i can wield.

NmBs vs NsVs 000.i

I was not happy,

i had no friends

only godly noise in my head.

Telling and promising me a land,

not even knowing what life of a king,

where that bastard of a father I didn’t even grew up with.

With your courage and false confidence

that was promoted.

At least I’m happy to make your

adversary to make them granite 

before you,

then after which

you can only admire in graven image.


Mytika de los Noche

When that light

enters the mind

of each night,

Morpheus gives way

and Nyx stays away,

Ra will soon arise

while the phoenix

basks in eternal delight.


em. prompt u: possibility

. . . but to Prometheus nothing was impossible.

A book of myths by Jeanie Lang.


For an impossible feat,

we are given light of the matter,

and thus from dark cold streams,

radiance of the love of light embers in us,

coz such feat of fire was stolen and given

in turn he knew the consequences,

only to know he gave us our mind,

to be used for our own betterment,

and not the bitter sorrow of every winter to follow.


Upon Olympiad’s Twilight.

Oh Paris,

why of all things,

must you crave and lust Helen.

You of all creation undo

Us in your lustfull wake,

behave badly and make this,

because you wanted Helen’s cunt.


To arms, to arms.

Lure me away,

to a bright summer’s day,

and sail to trojan shores

to hear all those

battle calls.

Paris shouted,

To me brethren to me,

protect me from all heathen,

For I stole their golden apple.