Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Loki's Rasped Lament

Beneath a pinioned rock that thrice was cut
I lay embound in iron chains congeal'd
from visc'ra torn with teeth from one to son
another mine, while I was forc'd to watch.
To watch! To watch! The flesh was ripped apart!
No tears I wept to give my captors gain.
Yet I, in sooth, on head of mine : full guilt.
Full guilt! My captor's sons I set at throat
with dart so venom'd, bane was quickened sure!
The greatest God who white and lily stepped
innocent son, celestial boon and blessing
on ever, ay, and always earth this age.
This age, golden age, any age to come,
I killed. Not my own hand : his dear belov'd
brother strong I trick'd and gave the arrow
just dipp'd in mistl'toes witch-enchanted brews.
Unknownst he took so trusting me and shot --
he shot! oh never such a shot was seen!
To melt the golden smiles down-dripp'd regal
blood! and earth touching, sprout St. John's Wort bloom'd,
while doom'd most blessed loved God of old.
The tears spat out ocean froth like curses.
Cries so terrible and pitiful from Gods!
My spite and vengeance spoiled then by tears mine own.
And laughter, laughter under palm of hand
while slink'd I far, far thence with quickened haste.
Oh, time hath its tricks, and I, over time,
in my own trap -- a net I made -- was caught!
Then caught and bound was struggling brought 'neath ground.
Here lies the locked one : see? These chains, my sons'
own guts, his very flesh now father-binds!
The deep and darkened ir'ny'f anger'd Gods!
So say they all in sooth doth hate me full.
All life! All living things that took their breath
from bless'd, beloved, broad-hearted Baldur.
He's dead. I'm dead. We're all all dead-deadened
by hand of mine, by mind of mine now curs'd!
When earth you feel ashak'd and tremble, roar,
you feel, O Embla's kin, my raging wail-remorse!
Shall I, so craz'd, at end of times, be burst
and wolf-army leading lead the hopeless fight
against the Gods in wild vengeance slaughter?
So fateful, I, necessity-endrawn,
might self give sacrifice to end my kin's
long and wretched ogre mayhem, which landeth
even blessed me -- (by Gods) -- in chains.
And even then upon my Heimdall deathbed,
with thought of me a secret agent sly,
whose own deceit I trick flatter meself,
will I, oh then, but catch a single wink
of single eye, whose pawn I once again
be prov'd to be, by master of the tricks
that I, apprentice claim to folly be?
These maddened thoughts taunt in the cold venom.
And I, a partner once, of espionage,
be pawn-partnered once again by he
who wizard-wonder old man love once was?
Sigyn, bowl me from serpent's poison'd thoughts.


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