Beneath the iron sky, where ravens soar,
I walk the path that leads to blood and gore.
The gods, the Aesir, high on their blackened thrones,
Demand the gift of flesh, of bones, of groans.
Yggdrasil sways as we sharpen our blades,
For the Allfather's eye never dims nor fades.
Tyr, with the one-handed grasp, doth decree-
Sacrifice ye bring, for the world must bleed.
Odin, I hear thy thunderous call,
The bloodied hall of Valhöll doth enthrall.
The runes are writ in the veins of the slain,
Their souls bound fast in unending chain.
Lo! We carve the chest, and pierce the heart,
In rites too dark for the sun to take part.
For Freyja, the fairest, a maiden fair,
Her life for harvest, her screams fill the air.
Thor's hammer cracks, the skies break asunder,
Yet blood, not rain, dost fall in thunder.
The gallows-tree calls, the noose is strung,
Men, they swing, with unsung tongue.
For Loki laughs, his mischief sowed deep,
In death's embrace, we sow what we reap.
Hark! The Valkyries swoop on wings of flame,
Taking the brave, leaving naught but shame.
I, too, shall meet the axe's kiss,
My blood, a tribute to the gods' abyss.
Skalds shall sing of our fury, our strife,
Yet none shall know the price of life.
So, take ye heed, for in the gloaming frost,
The gods rejoice at what we've lost.
The rites of old, in shadows, lie-
A Viking's soul, forever to die.
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Lurk's Compendium of Dark Poetry (LCDP)
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
