Ode to the Norse god Bitter wind whips cloaks and furs as the riders crest the final hill. A fist rises. A signal to hold. Horses wicker, a restless hoof stomps, Words, guttural, soothing and then the wind again. Below, a village, quiet, silent even….
Tag: theoffendedstraightwhiteguy
11.
I hear it. In the distance. Over the cliffs. The arctic breeze carries the tune. It flies over the waves that crash against ancient granite. A stirring. In my blood. Something ancient like the sea against the stones. The tune rolls on sea air brushing…
10.
Everyone has a color. You’re not a person if you don’t. I don’t know what you would be if you didn’t but you should Pick one. Mine? Blue. My color is blue. Ultramarine to be exact. A glowing blue. One that makes the eyes feel…
9.
“why?! why?! why?!” “What?” Then she tells me what. An unwelcome guest. In the shower. We live in the city and there are bugs. There are bugs where people are. Maybe people are bugs. (ever think’a that? No, you only think about yourself) I come…
8.
8. Not a day, week, month year goes by that I Don’t think about the weight of the experience you carry I was not there, how could I have been, I hadn’t been given your Existence yet. Your soul was not made apparent to me,…
7.
WHAT IF OUR WORDS ARE ONLY Images & Emotions mELtiNG tHe iNSiDeS of our hearts, until we are empty like the body of a guitar that only SINGSSHOUTSSHREDSSLIDESSPEAKS when…
6.
They shouldn’t see our faces. Which is to say, our faces shouldn’t be what brings people to us. They should want to listen. They should all want to wear their own masks. At our shows with the lights and sounds. I’ll drum. I’ll beat…
5.
There should be a place you could walk to When you’re young. A place with hills, gauntlets for the bike with one speed (as fast as your legs can move it) and one brake (better hope the wires don’t snap). Hills that are narrow and…
4.
I am the Wolf Ya Volk, in Russian, for you gypsy types (my types) You can find me in the dark, look for me in the night when The shard of the crescent moon slices through smoky clouds, shades of black Against a velvet sky,…
3.
Where the ocean ends. Where it chooses to end on the shore. On the beach. Where families sit. Contaminating the sand with oils and plastic, Synthetic chrome wrappers and aluminum. Yet, stoic, powerful, ominous and effervescent. A leviathan of forces unfathomed by those who sit…