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The Ember Dance of Fenrir

In regards to fighting it is not the action of violence or the male-intent of hate but the one in which we weather these trials of life, through friendship of other wayfarers and those we’ve embraced in our upbringing, stood next to those by which we have partaken the folly of that which has burned us and dashed our hopes from one time or another.

It is that which we should seek to enlighten ourselves with, the story of wayfarers; so that we may share and share alike in that story we’ve come to call history.

Finding in it something worthy of lighting the points of stars amongst the darkness in heaven.

Dancing like embers in Fenrir’s wake. It does not make us the monsters that bring ruin to strangers weary on these wild roads of life.

It is not irresponsibility that brings the ire and wrath of beings inevitable to the ends of the way.

It is the necessity by which we seek to be free to uplift those troubled and to shield them in the warming mantle of salvation, an embrace of that which is to be if we seek to plant the seeds of love and laughter and not the embitterment of treachery and the spear of finality with which all things are severed.

Let the sour notes of our limits not ruin the sweetness that finds us when we’re lost in the trials that brings forth tears and blood.

May we be guided forth towards a gathering of friends and allies. So that the mirth will not make us content and in idle state.

It is the silence that looms invisibly but we shall wisely and through time come to not fear it when in the early hours of a newborn day.

This being more of a daft proclamation that I hope to inspire in those who need to unite in friendship.

So that fellowship is not the affair with which we need to be on guard from those within but on cautious against those without.

Those who only share the bond of spite and malice that are unconscionable to the truths which are ever present. May we not strike them down but disarm them of their spades and stones which they are supplied to wage a misguided campaign of hatred.

For which it is the war that is the truer threat be it in minor conflict or the grand epic scale of errant spoiled people considering themselves deities amongst those that they should be equaled to even if in humility.

Be wary of the predators that do not understand that they too have become the prey. The biggest threat of all is the lack of hospitality and pride of hostility that which keeps us trapped.

The colossal danger being when we cannot frolic about hallowed places and nestle in the safety of our flames by which we burrow in sleep.

May this words not fall weakly upon the scream of buffoons and those that do not keep their wits about them and those that dare not pay their fellow the decency of respect. May we observe from the safety of distance that which could befall us as an example of grace.

So that the ends are not brutal, mercilessness, unceremoniously muted and swift but instead are gradual like the inhaling and exhaling of breath, in the form of sagely advice from the aged to fiery youth.

That shall be a means to an end when they become us and more in their path to completion of cycle. But that is in the hopes that our time will not end so soon but faraway since we are at the spark from which our fires are lit. Let the fire spread.


The Ember Dance of Fenrir
The Ember Dance of Fenrir

Cerebrum Stagnation

It started with the sensation of weightlessness and the dimming of light

The lack of illumination bringing forth a limbo and the suspension of a life conflicted

There were no senses, there was no sense to make of things it was the shadow of chaos

At the mercy of those that truly did not hold towards the respect of self or decency of protection

Spending an eternity floating weightlessly through grey space as my suit struggled to process

The time to eject should have come sooner rather than riding the storm out and waiting for safety

Being stalked out in the shadow of this concussion feeling numb while the worst danced in victory

And they had it for sure, villainy triumphs when the weak are trampled and lead to believe the lies

A truth is only something that’s a matter of perception, and when the giant falls it’s a rebels yell

Bringing out the bastards from the wood works to gloat over the departure of logic and reason

The prize had been stolen long before that, and pride would keep one blind to the fact

Sounds of their insults and threats heard but not understood, not respected and not even tolerated

Damaged minds know no fear, damaged hearts know hurt and damaged souls know desperation

The worst of three worlds and yet their tiered to one like a stigmata of failure time

A spell of time a ticking sinking beyond the measure of words that form despair and futility

Yet the last gift of Pandora crawls forth from it’s over turned box hope something fierce

Drowning in this sea yet I have air to breath, light comes flickering back into function

Soon each system is go, I’ve been out of the fight long before retaliation could ever commence

It was worse than any possibility of Guernica considering there wasn’t preparation for this

Only actions at the behest of psychopaths beyond scope and reason, yet they help me

Those sick bastards terrified of losing control of something that’s not theirs to begin with

Yet I hear the echoing outside, that paralyzation of concussion and reconnecting of nerves

It was a close call, yet life support managed to keep on during this forced grounding

Sparks, bringing me out of the shock but not the tremors for times to come

That burst of fire as creativity seeks to warm souls and give one a means to reaffirm expressively

Art the attack, and the mediums used to forge these creation the tools of the trade

Though one doesn’t have to bring violence to have it inflicted upon self, one simply has to be

And for that I reckon perhaps this would be my gift despite the curses muttered upon my name

It’s better this way, despite the scars I bare since my character is better than that of cowards and liars

Their shriveled forms, a self-made caricature, the kind that self promotes their own incompetencies

I needn’t give into what their selling since what I’m looking to buy is worth more than the monetary

If I were any worse for wear then I’d shrug for what I am doing is worth more than a world of dead weight

I’ve shed that husk I was for the man I am and I need not ever live in fear of them ever again

For what is a man if he is too afraid to gaze at the stars in heaven? But a slave fettered by stagnation

May no one be trapped by men with evil in their hearts or the oppression of the status quo

Let’s keep the freedom to create and share upon one another something grander than standard convention

brain freeze

The fires of creativity over-taking stagnation


A Thumb For Salvation

I came to this planet looking for existence, I was forced to being by a spark of creation

A miniature nova from one beget many and so my culture of reality I was born

I came to this planet because it was time to be, I came seeking love and acceptance

This one is not an embodiment of perfection but it is based on the world surrounding

At the mercy of apes, devils and angels alike yet still the recluse against my will

No! they teach me humor and tell me to smile at the atrocities I’ve yet to encounter

An acceptable compromise given the horrors that awaited the evolution of being

One realizing that it’s a neverender, a spiral of dairy ways and places we’re yet to get to

They tell me that I’m at fault for having aversion for the primates and the poop they sling

Are they not aware? The children they let loose on each other, destroying each other frivolously

You think they would be considerate or so I thought but even I had handlers that couldn’t handle it

Now how about that? A floating prisoner to gravity and the psychotic are my wardens

Imagine that for a moment, let me bring you into this, let me show you something I’ve seen

The world is far prettier than the ugly buildings that adorn it’s surface like the cancer of civilization

Things that cannot be understood, people innocent and beautiful, graceful and amazing

Not like the monsters that lurk, with meaningless words that hide a lack of respect for humanity

Seeing monsters do, makes me want to do things I shouldn’t, to endure hell for others, not for self

But what good is the power of violence? what good is hate? It isn’t; it’s a product of fear

The things we can’t control, comprehend or make bent to our will, yet we can’t just come to terms

We have been too ignorant, and mad and fearful, we’ve been misled! our pride is our hubris

I see darkness in the world and terrible fates for all, I wonder if love was ever real

A god might view us as superfluous insects with life span shorter than the motion of a blink

I see myself, further wanting to be done here, looking to leave and find a new place to be

Why should I care for my fellow human? if they can’t think to quit stomping eachother’s hopes and dreams

How much more of this can one take? When you chop away at the protection of sanity

And I wonder why I am still here, if I am invisible to some and attacked by others?

I’m sick of being the pariah, it’s time for me to go, time to put out for some faraway unknown

A thumb for salvation.


Catching a ride.

Strom of Fears

People wonder why, they’ve got their assumptions to something they’ll never quite understand

I’m on the defensive, since I’m under assault fighting my mind and the world abroad

If I were faster I would choose flight and fly away from this grand display of flaying buffoonery

Finding enemies amongst my allies yet it’s the prey I fear over the predators.

Since sheep can easily disguise the wolves hiding in their skin.

Is it wrong to resist the gravity of fate and worldly attractions?

Change isn’t the bad guy it’s the people that fool us into thinking it’s what we want.

I guess you’d think me a fool to turn down the things I need for survival amongst those that fancy themselves the fittest.

I’m sick of being a cycle since living in phases –

Leaves me wondering if I’m a novelty of illusion or a tangible being in my perceptions of the world

I think it’s better to find the root of paranoia and sever it;

Since it stops caution from realizing truer threats in this storm of souls.

Struggling to find myself amongst this maelstrom is like trying to find a tear in the ocean

I’ve got persistence to endure;

However it’s at the inconvenience of fools that think themselves royalty.

Though for their own sake they better start thinking on their own;

Since their worlds a bubble drifting towards the cactus of actuality.

If it weren’t for the prisoners they keep, I’d decidedly live out in the beyond.

I’ve not forgotten what it’s like to be enslaved to the ungrateful, hence my hesitance to abandon;

I’ll put my bout of introspection on hold, don righteous indignation and stock up on elbow grease.

Time to let the fools know who they’re dealing with…


Finding one’s self on the outside.

A Pothering Dandy

You ever imagine a world of modern convenience? What about one without?

One where we got all we need at our finger tips, where we’ve mastered the grounds we walk on, and the peoples that inhabit it?

That sense of entitlement we get to things we think to have mastered?

But what of the elements?

The skies – heavens above that bring rains for supposed dominated lands. They too can deluge us and drive us to places undesirable.

The oceans – ataxian seas that do not bow before man or the devices that attempt to ferry across safely. They too can capsize us, leaving us to the mercy of frigid waters and monsters that dwell within the deep.

The volcanoes – delivering contained rage and earth blood to the lands surrounding it. They too can make new-lands while burning away old ones and drowning out the din of civilization with thunder, soot and ash.

Modern titans, feared by man for their unpredictability and propensity for destruction just as their capable of being gentle until disturbed by the triflings of children.

We think ourselves capable, we marvel at our accomplishments but there are things that one must be aware of in the grand picture of this planet we share.

When we think it’s going to end, we panic trying to save what little there is for ourselves – acting selfishly and without reason or concern for each other.

Then what do we have to say? It was an accident that we lost our composure when we had it so masterfully under control? I think not.

So instead of applauding modern amenity, applaud the nature we haven’t filled with concrete, glass, fiber optics cable and coffee. Appreciate the wild things that lurk in their rightful place and know that we share and share alike. Failure to do so robs of all the truly beautiful things.

Sit back, relax, and maybe this chaos we consistently induce will cease in time to admire the natural order of things. Heck maybe we might even live longer than the dinosaurs, and perhaps amongst stars with new life and more places to live but not destroy.

Modernly Fitful

Emerald cities of prefecture.

The Color of Sacrifice

Contentment is the rat’s nest, it makes us weak and incapable. There comes a point when injustice and malice rear forth like raiders before the dawn. Those who plunder, spoil and are cruel enough to take prisoners for their amusement.

To the exhausted, pain takes a moment to process that it’s slavery. To the invested, pain is a call for ferocity to escape and stay ahead of the curve. Something more than survival.

It’s a call to take that blind leap of faith, so that we may see truth.

Injuries aren’t felt immediately and the damage may be obvious but when we push onward – we deny ourselves the moment to mourn. The moments of darkness that helps define our brightness.

The absence of color in the world only being measure in the black and white.  A perception of positive and negative vibrations in a spawning pool of life.

In order to have the color we so seek, we have to sacrifice though at what cost is it? What price will have to be paid to have a world of gray and red? Will we have to hemorrhage for the sake of humanity or do we preserve presence of self while failing to adventure?

For that which we anticipate, we can never truly prepare for the damage to be dealt or the wound to be made so we can bleed and experience one of the finer points to perception.

We may see the red, knowing it to be more than blood:  It’s rage, passion, love and freedom and it can flowing smoothly before settling to dark crimson.

So provided we survive the hurt, provided we don’t let ourselves fall apart, then we get to seal the wound and meditate on that which became our strength despite the weakness.

The heart is both the most powerful muscle and a limitation to the flesh made humanity. It helps to keep the mind balanced and the flesh alive.  It also sends out like errant knights seeking the near unattainable but still it gets what it needs and through braving the world what it wants.

So despite the perceptions of heartache and damage know that if you still breath you’ve a chance to do something more than fate or destiny has prescribed for us.

When we bleed a little for the things we believe in, care about and refuse to give up on – the world becomes ours.


The heart hungers for what the body cannot eat.

Obfuscation: Breaking Torpor

That which oppresses us.


Do you ever find yourself flying along until you’ve hit the wall of adversity?

Do you find anxiety instead of the comfort of soft lies?

Discovering the distortion of truth and the shroud of despair.

Things that we cannot comprehend when life seems to obfuscate the bigger picture and our place within.

Striving to seek the warm embrace of day when we’re hunted by the ever encroaching black of night.

It’s hard to find markers in this path when we’re blazing this trail in the wilds of the unknown.

Remember when everything seemed so easy? Like life had thrown us a bone.

Perhaps that was the period of grace – the calm before the storm to come.

How could one come to appreciate our gifts without the challenge of difficulty?

Before one hangs up their aspirations and settles for depressions way –

Wouldn’t it be wiser to smash the convention of oppression and make way for dreams no matter how far fetched?

One step towards a goal is a step in the right direction.


Escaping that which stops us.