Saturday, 28 February 2009

Unbound Giants
























Unbound Giants.

Batten down the hatches, the storm is here,
Nail wooden planks upon the windows,
Raise your cross before the dragons wrath,
The shadow of nemesis descends, Liberty Breaker,
Is her kenning, whirlwind in her battle armour,
Bone Grinder girds herself for war, arrows notched,
Draws her deadly bow of breath, exhales death,
As a black serpent twisting, strikes the earth.

Seek subterranean storm cellar sanctuaries,
Run from the beast before she bares her teeth,
And flee the fields where her wild winds rage,
As seeds seek safety in simple cells of soil,
Hide deep within fortifications of natural earth,
Secure the safety of your folk and nation,
Heed the signs, a sunless sky suckles famine,
As a wolf wind blows the frost giants free,
From the fiery shackles of their captivity.


Furtive at first, a hazy stain of thrusting sky,
A tremulous hush that far rumbling greets,
Distant in the ambush of its first awakening,
Are the signs of her presence approaching,
Then immense she rises, pregnant with hate,
A black ravening beast, which in hunger writhes,
Her twisting, glistening, wet black maw,
Sucking breath from the lips of her lovers,
Clouds that are drawn into her dripping death.

She seeks the succour of chaos and destruction,
Sloughing small towns of homes and farms,
Raises her head from the bloody trough,
That her fury has wrought upon the morning,
As the serpent rattles of her sinuous skirts,
Swirling and shimmering shoals of rain,
Pummelling, punching and gouging the ground,
As whiplash cracks of lightning, sleet and hail,
Lacerates the land with wounds of white.

As wet torn tissue scraps, the winds peel back,
The roof from a farmhouse, trees from a forest,
Trailers from a trailer park, cars from the road,
Until all are debris in the one unblinking eye,
Of Liberty Breaker in all her glory revealed,
Her darkness crowns the day, as a raven flies,
Towards the white towers of sky borne Asgard,
To warn the gods that Ragnarok is now at hand.

Surt in his ebonite armour so commands,
From his fortress of fire in the dusty East,
Black legions be unleashed upon the world,
So the ancient enmity comes back to life,
Slick upon waves of sewage, Nagilfar sails,
Its belly bloated with death and disease,
Towards the sacred islands of the North,
As frost giants stalk the world for all time,
Until the fall of Odin and the doom of men.





















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