Burn.
Step onto the embers of my
Secret weaknesses and
Impersonate the
Sword of Michael.

This longing for Valhalla
Won't see me alive much
Longer.
Take me to the nearest battle.
Let me die slaying a terrorist

Or intending ******.
Or should I pray to gods of a more
Peaceful nature than
Odin?
Love and let live.

Nah, this is in my Norwegian
Bones.
I'll die wielding blade.
I'll die laughing, opened up and
Spilling.

I'll "not go gentle into that good
Night."
So burn.
Be bonfire to my innermost of
Darknesses.

There are shadows there that
Demand chasing.
Make me proud to be
Midgardian.
Burst into flames and remind me:

Sticks and stones are feathers.
Buddha and Baldr.
Enlightenment and love. Well,
I'd rather be a warrior in a church
Than a priest in a battle.

Odin's one good eye
Is mine.
The other weeps for the weak.
May they find
Comfort in the daylight,

While us
Others sharpen our
Weathered hearts
In the cold, uncertain night we
Belong to, like water to snow.

Odin created us, as is par for his day.
Creator, killer, poet.
Fitting, I think.
When things get hard, Loki will tempt us
With deception, floating through the air.

You were Odin and I was Thor.
You were the giant-killer and I was the storm.
I tried to stop you with thunder
But you killed my giant.
(Thank goodness).

But I think Baldr exemplifies you more.
Norse god of light and beauty
For not only are you beautiful,
But your soul brings me light.
Together, we become the shining day.

Together, we could be greater than all the gods combined.

welcome to my brain

I was born upside down,
Preikestolen in my spine,
Baldr whispered, “Run wild,”
and I never learned to walk—only charge.

I meditate in chaos,
hold breath till the silence shivers.
Doctors panic.
I just smirk.
Two minutes is peace to me.

I kick air to remind gravity
that I’m still the boss
and punch walls of thought
just to hear them echo.

Luzifer lights my thoughts—
not evil, just awake.
Baldr wraps them in gold.
Shaolin monks?
I’d spar one,
bowing with bruises and respect.

Poetry drips from my lungs
like fog off the fjord.
I speak in sparks and
rhyme with thunder.
My mind’s a temple with no roof—
every god welcome
as long as they listen.

I am ADHD
in motion and meaning.
A storm wearing headphones.
A spliff-lit oracle.

And if you feel too much—
if your heart rattles like mine—
don’t run.

Sit.
Breathe.
Roar.