• Jackbooted thug files — 29jan26

    michael raven

    Just to provide a very short update as to the situation in Minnesota, nothing has meaningful changed here on the ground with the switching of leadership (sic) personnel. The only cool-down we are witnessing is the cool-down of rhetoric from a corrupt administration realizing they made an unforced error by demonizing Alex Pretti, who was murdered in cold blood at the hands of masked thugs in flak jackets and carrying military-grade hardware for exercising TWO of his Constitutional rights (freedom of speech and the right to bear arms, the second of which, mind you he never removed from the holster and was never in his hand during the altercation). And that rhetoric is even ramping up again. Why? Because the Trump minions (and toddler in chief, Dotard Donnie, especially) are incapable of keeping their mouths shut when the best thing to do is just shut up.

    Don’t believe the hype when they say that they are trying to bring down the temperature. That’s bullshit. They’re doing anything but.

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  • recollection

    michael raven 

    do you recall wrists
    bound in sailor's knot or
    was that only wraith?

    memories from mists or
    merely smoke & mirrors?
    tell me true, did years burn?

    beautiful darkling,
    do you recall the gloaming
    of our changeling time?

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  • Half-penny thoughts — 28jan26

    michael raven

    I feel like being more lighthearted today. Rather than write all kinds of serious words about my thinking on something, I am deciding to post a “just-for-fun” question to see if anyone is interested in a little mock game of truth or dare. Use one of the off-the-cuff examples below to answer my relatively absurd question, or come up with your own response. Please note, they are all not obviously standard responses to the question. Try to keep it in that spirit if you come up with something different.

    Which is sexier in your mind?

    • A tome of dusty old words largely lost to the vagaries of time?
    • A score tucked into a sealed plaster wall from a dead composer that was never recognized for their genius?
    • Petals floating by on a slow-moving stream in a snow-covered landscape?
    • Poetry whispered into a dark room with an audience of one lonely ghost?
    • Fangs of a vampire resting on your skin, but not quite breaking it?
    • Or something entirely different from the above? Be creative, be nonstandard.

    Just curious what folks decide and come up with/decide upon. There is absolutely no motive aside from that. The only condition is that it must actually appeal to you when you post in the comments if it isn’t one of those suggested.

    Either admit one sounds appealing (Truth) or propose your own. If you Dare.

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  • casting runes — 28jan26

    michael raven

    tiwaz
    with each sacrifice
    another face steps forward
    to fill the empty space

    we will not waver.
    justice must be served.

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is tiwaz, which is named after the Norse god Týr, and the second weekday (Tuesday) is named for the god. According to Norse myth, Týr offers his right hand to the wolf Fenrir, who bites it off when he realizes the gods have used the offering to distract the wolf while they bind him. The rune is typically considered symbolic of honor, loyalty and justice, as well as of sacrifice. It may be representative of discipline and faith. Some interpretations have associated the rune with the North Star.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

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  • of evensong

    michael raven

    sunlight shining through old growth woods
    Photo by Simon Wilkes on Unsplash

    All that could be seen was ankle; your ankle, in fact. My face was against your bare calf, warmed in the golden glow of early summer evensong atop the old elm-crowned hillock, your fingers tangled in my hair. Narrowed of focus by my heavy eyelids, dreamy for ebb and flow of cicada drones — narrowed so I could drink in that ankle of yours, the sight of which being mead that made my head dizzy drunk and the linger of a kiss honey sweet.

    Someone hummed a tuneless song and I never did discover if it was you or me. But neither of us moved in the fading day’s heat. Not wanting to break the thralling spell, I just lay there, feeling the pulse of your blood against my cheek as I bathed in the vision of your ankle and the massage of your fingers in my hair.

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  • Trobairitz verse — Comtessa Beatriz de Dia

    michael raven

    On a whim this morning, I decided to reeducate myself on the history of medieval troubadours and their songs/poetry of courtly love, fin’amor, and found myself more drawn to their female counterparts, the trobairitz, who trended away from the complex, flowery language of the troubadour (who wrote more in the trobar clus, closed, hermetic style; or trobar ric, technically complex style) and more into what is termed the trobar leu, the “light” or “easy” style, for which the trobairitz were known.

    While I have vague recollections of the troubadour poetry from when I last read any around thirty years ago, I felt it was good time as any to refresh that memory in case I might see it differently after such a passage of time. Instead, I think, I found my more true interest in the trobairitz, as I don’t think the material I was reading at the time did much more than make a cursory mention of their works.

    Their lyrical poetry may be more to my speed.

    One of the lyrical works of Comtessa Beatriz de Dia, a trobairitz, follows. I thought it would of interest to some folks.

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  • casting runes — 27jan26

    michael raven

    fehu
    ages of drought
    fields left fallow
    these bones & stones &
    the withered dusty husk
    ache for the love of rain

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth or earned prosperity. Sometimes luck played a role. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when material accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

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  • chaos

    michael raven 

    woke up tired
    washed up
    dragged down
    undertow and gone
    rip tide out away
    from shore
    past jagged
    black stones
    piercing waves
    and the ocean
    it pulled me
    so far away
    until i approached
    a ninth wave

    i woke up tired
    washed up
    not needing their
    chaos riding home

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  • casting runes — 26jan26

    michael raven

    ansuz
    left to dangle at
    the ol' hanging tree &
    i cannot breathe
    without you
    mouth to mouth

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts. By way of the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the rune is named æsc, which is translated to “ash”, a tree associated with Odin and is representative of resilience and strength.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

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  • Hollowman

    michael raven

    I’ve gone hollow, with dusty cobwebs occupying the empty space inside. If you were to loosen the black leather lacing that holds everything inside, you would be surprised at the void that greets you.

    I don’t want you to be shocked. So, consider this fair warning if you elect to look inside just out for the looking for any curiosities you thought might be tied up inside. Some other thief or thieves have already lifted the everything of what used to reside there.

    Ahh, is that disappointment I perceive? That long, gravity-trapped face dragging to the ground, where once a smile was to reside, turned to the upside down?

    It’s not my preference to be primarily hollow, I assure you. My clockwork heart was quite the thing, I promise, before it was taken from me. Even the spleen filled of ideal was taken from me. I am quite empty, you see.

    With all parts cannibalized for the sake of entertainment of others, only my eyes remain to reflect the void within. Waiting for something that long has a been and unlike to be again.

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