cold drizzle falls on stiff unyielding backs; we endure as they break their brittle metal on our hardened resolve
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is uruz. The rune is named after the now-extinct aurochs, a wild ox and has become associated with standing up to challenges, having both confidence and courage, stubborn tenacity, and boundless strength and health. Uruz is alternately associated with the more raw elements which include rain, primordial potential, and the slag/dross cast away during the making of iron.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
There was a guy one of my tattooist used to regularly tattoo. It turned out his client was not getting inked, but just getting tattoos for the sensation they gave him.
“Is he just a masochist,” I asked, having immediately decided it must be true.
“Not really,” said the Brain, as his typo’d business card proclaimed. “He doesn’t much care for pain. I think he is actively trying to avoid pain.”
“Explain,” I asked, befuddled, wincing as he hit the nerve bundle near my armpit. “Do you not use needles either?”
The Brain frowned. “Of course I use needles. He’s getting a tattoo.” He held my bicep firm to prevent me from flinching and messing up his linework.
“So… why no ink?” I said, taking a drag on my cigarette, for this was back when you could smoke while getting a tattoo.
“He doesn’t want it to stick around more than scar tissue.”
“So… Why get one at all if he doesn’t like ink?”
“He says it makes his pain go away” said the Brain.
“Riiiight,” was my incredulous response. “Oh-kay.”
The Brain shrugged. “His business, I just follow his direction.”
Welcome to masochism world, I thought to myself. Definitely a masochist.
It is years later, arthritis and old injuries later. The Brain’s client was right. Pain washes the pain away.
It’s too expensive and no one will agree to doing tattoos without ink anymore, however. They just nod and you can see it in their eyes: Welcome to masochism world.
there are times all life is as dream with every line blurred between when all i want to do is sleep
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is ingwaz, a rune named after the god Ing or Freyr. It is representative of a channeled energy or transformational process. It is also be seen as the male component of life, and therefore a symbol of sexual passions and the contributed “seed” of life (and, therefore, an aspect of one’s ancestral ørlǫg, or fate/destiny). Some interpretations conceive the rune as a symbol of darkness, solitude or dreaming.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
my madness song at yellow paper tigers stretching from walls i arm claw trying to find a way out all the while grinding glass teeth & chewing at tinsel
i have earned my way to straw dog state & mantic ghosts of that neverpast & nevermore, sing: shake shake shake dog shake
an ugly break at mirrors in these jigsaw daze no one could know there would be so much blood
what does this stormwashed beach offer? let us toss bones, rattle teeth, carve our skin & slip with the undertow; what treasures we may find...
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is pertho, which has a disputed meaning and there is some indication that any proposed meanings might be based on a corrupted interpretation. The general consensus is that there is likely some relationship to ørlǫg (fate/destiny), luck/gambling or perhaps hidden knowledge.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
An interesting word came my way recently (I “collect” interesting words) and, while I understood the concept outside of the actual word, I didn’t know what it was called.
That word is “aphantasia”, a condition in which a person cannot visualize mental images, and it impacts up to an estimated 5% of the population. When you say “tree” they cannot conjure up a mental image of a tree when they close their eyes.
There is actually a spectrum of how well people can mentally visualize things:
She covers me in twilight aching, as filtered by summer leaves. Shadowed within shadows gloaming slips down, descends, pours over me.
Blind to consequence, she moves through the weald seamless, with feet drifting on wraith. A kiss on my grey lips passing, breath crisp to the taste and pale fingers linger mists on cheek before she wisps away.
I am wicker-bound by convention though the distance moves well beyond time.
Flint for my eyes, sharp, though always blind I must be. They scrimshawed my bones to mask the words from me. Lips set to suture, to trap my voice to me.
Waiting on the fires, mists’ kiss watching, twilight aching over me.
