Digital drawing, Mythology, Norsk, poetry

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.

Devastation.

For all of them.

Yes ahh. . .

the poison is not working anymore,

In his head, the poison is there.

📴🆕🆙🆒📴🔜🔜🔜

©oam

®artsydhude 7-18

™XENOphagz

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Digital drawing, Life, Mythology, Norsk, poetry

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.

Freyja,

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.

🐲💥👣👣💥🐲

©oam

®artsydhude

™XENOphagz

Digital drawing, Drawing/Sketch, Mythology, Norsk, poetry

NsVs i.49

Am i bounded to myself,

or have I handed my earnings to that shriveled old shrunken head,

if I only knew that tarnhelm would lead me into all this.

Just for the sake of meeting one so pure of lusted eyes,

And to meet her freckled beauty.

Shit,

I am now a property of one smaug of a lizard,

Now in this dankness,

And left me to become a shriveled shrunked head,

working without pay,

only grub to eat and rest my water.


To become a slave to the slaughter,

A worker of Fafner.

I know there is someone out there,

One day will slay,

Fafner.

🐲🆗🆙🆕🆚🆒📴🐲

©artsydhude 2008-2018

™XENOphagz

Digital drawing, Greco Romano, Mythology, Norsk, poetry

Intermission

This days of This&That

At best,

Did Odysseus screamed and wailed like a bitch s&m’d on the mast.

While all of the longings and sweetest sound of a woman.

At worst,

While Loki deranged, maligned and self inflicted insanity;

Sigyn never lost her compunction only to plan the war.

The best,

Of that destroys the mind where Shiva is the eternal seducer

And loves to create an internal strife of process

That never dies and an infinite beginning loop in and over of my eye.

Yes. .

Yes . . .

And know that all there is to know,

What power can grow,

Just leave the mustard under your nose.

And please do while sneezing all the way.

Into a summer springs falls on an autumn dawning that do fade away

On a clear path from Osiris to Aldeberan’s way.