Ragnarok - Fjalar Crows !

I will be posting up some of the visionary poems I am producing for a collection at the moment.

Let me if you like them or want information on the symbolism of the contents.

Regards.



Fjalar Crows !



A Volva sings of a gathering storm,
Of wars and conflicts coming soon ;


And there in vision from the East,
I saw a fiery red dragon swift arise,
Crowned with gold and diamonds,
Hissing through fissile missile fangs.


Sinuous it unfurls its sinister skin,
Etched with plots hatched within,
Each one to plan, all systems set,
Whilst profits rose and freedom fled.



A myriad cages filled with prisoners,
Clad in chains of civil disobedience,
Producing the toxic toys and trinkets,
That poison the souls of little children.


And in factories filled with smoke and fire,
Where the future is burnt upon our pyre,
I watched the last forest felled with saws,
And the last of the free made into whores.


In waters white with shifting ice,
I saw its snakes slip and slide,
Submarine fleets seeking prey,
At hunt beneath the ocean waves.


Foul poison dripped from its sharp fangs,
Black as the tar from the pit of hate,
Then overhead the back of Bifrost broke,
Frost giants charging over its splinters.



Strutting Fjalar, the scarlet rooster,
Crowed once and shook the heavens,
As Eggther strummed upon his harp,
He wept, fretting on the bloody strings.



And soon the dragon rose ever higher,
Sheathed in satellites and warships,
The steel armour of imperial missions,
Sowing the world with seeds of sedition.


Its throne of gold was built on the grave of god,
Where millions lay in murders shallow sod,
A song of screams issued from Hells Gate,
Ragnarok, Ragnarok, Wolf Age of war and hate.


Then I saw a great grey wolf leap forth,
Spitting fire from its molten maw,
Roaring so loud it cracked the earth,
Whilst in the seas, the serpent stirred.


That monstrous world encircling worm,
Sent forth its wild black waves of death,
To ravage the lands of all wicked men,
As a black sun above blighted the earth.


Through a dark and deadly drifting ash,
The bark of the wolf fell over the world,
Hark, I heard then three cocks crow,
As foaming with gore, red rivers flowed.


From the East the fire giant Surt arose,
Blooming as bright as a new born sun,
Bursting into being where the bombs fell,
Until in their wake came fleets of plagues.


Boats filled with creatures, barely men,
Flesh rotting with the bomb flash curse,
Stalkings our shores for flesh and food,
As orphans begged Britains famined roads.


And the dragon smiled, content with its work,
For liberty was dead, killed with its curse,
And in the wake of war, its legions arose,
Marching to victory upon the roads of Rome.

For Libya - The Rot Of Reason.


The pretext is set, the war plans laid,
To glut the Libyan ground with graves,
With 'Liberty' as the Wests mocking cry,
They send forth their troops to kill and die.


But all hope of liberty will soon be lost,
As the rebels will learn to their cost,
Whilst screaming jets strafe and bomb,
Descending fast, and firing their guns.


With burning tanks upon their flanks,
And Al Qaeda safe within their ranks,
Democracy will die in the bloody dust,
Veiled in black rags of hate and mistrust.


Now silence settles on the burning sand,
Where lies the wreckage of a dying man,
" Is this our freedom ", are his final words,
As his spirit flees from this tortured earth.


The wet, black gold is Libya's curse,
And all its profits from the devils purse,
For the smiling wolf that offers its paw,
Shall soon devour each witless whore.


And the deadly dust that shrouds the sun,
Will return to kill their little ones,
With tumours on their infant skin,
Who dares find good in such mortal sin.


As hope lies crushed in the city streets,
Beside all reason rotting in the heat,
Now rising forth from the fiery East,
A snarling red dragon, bares its teeth.

Kudos leejb, i love the scene Ragnarok pictures, disturbing though it is.


I like this verse of yours

Strutting Fjalar, the scarlet rooster, Crowed once and shook the heavens, As Eggther strummed upon his harp, He wept, fretting on the bloody strings.

A myriad cages filled with prisoners, Clad in chains of civil disobedience, Producing the toxic toys and trinkets, That poison the souls of little children.

Made me think of this Prisoners build weapons