Season after season I live
until oxygen
decay my weary skull and
fimbulvinter makes men uneasy.
Finally the coronial
line breaks.
Magneto sheaths
implode on flesh of
men and gods alike.
What caused this fate?
A fatal break of honor.
I suffer under alligator blows while
avenging death with death and
emptying my cup.
Geomagnetic storms blow
the feedhorn,
deities rule the
snowy darkness.
No more stars while
naked skin goes at
highest bidding.
Dead men riding,
she jokes
at the half empty hangar.
A blue carcass inside a red body;
I eat you while time exist.
Delay.
Solar winds pass between
long lines of men before
the bow shock.
I feel no reconnection as my limbs bend and
Mjolnir forms intoxicated vectors in the night air.
PO Johnson
Dear poet friends, I am sorry I posted two poems in a row. I couldn't help myself. I hope you like it. It says that you can post as many poems as you like. But of course I shouldn't take advantage of that.
4 comments:
I have no problem with how many or how often anyone here posts. I enjoy reading all of it.
post at will dear PO: we're all friends here.
Yes, I totally agree with Akeith and Gerry. Post when you feel like doing it. No need to wait.
I enjoy this poem very much. It flashes in blue and red.
Oh, Wagner in space? I also see the hints of 17 th century poetry and original runestones. Interesting.
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