Before Red Dawn
Before Red Dawn
At the edge of simplistic measure, we call unified time
lies the fertile age full of bastardized, stone deaf seductive crime
Young soul in pleasurable agony,
constant, majestical loop sings hanged upside down in simplified verse, about cruel Lady Bathory
there is a place
there is a time
far away from vain nonchalance,there life essence was given a fighting chance
build far away from this megalomaniacal inverted side
where unspeakable darkness unites itself with the omnipotency of universal crime
to visit this white Meca you won’t need a porous and shameful golden dime
just one honest, well-measured, boldest rhyme
In the hour of the last Red Dawn
don’t be such a clumsy irresponsible little pawn
Be a King, find the right magickal fountain
in this absolute place, be very certain
carelessly start to drink, there lies, hidden your holiest, fairest mountain
This song is written for those
who might wish, to endlessly oppose
but never to disclose the inner beauty of the majestical Rose
this song gives the true form of life a much-needed wink
this song is written for those
who can seriously and selflessly think
lord of the one-ring
lord of the many treacherous flies
the bottomless sea filled with one thousand ungrateful spent alibies
The ruler of all worldly dark ties
dethroned beggar sleeps here
together with his army of wretched lies
Before the last Red Dawn know yourself
happily and vigorously transcend
it will not be the end
some wounds dont need special care or urgent surgical mend
Before the last Red Dawn
some lives are rightfully spent
nobody needs to pretend
what is coming
is a rightfully stare, directly, from heaven sent
there is a place
there is a time
far away from this earthly polarizing divide
far away from reckless nonchalance, new life will be given an honest chance
an unspeakable dark fluctuating crime shall cease to exist with the appearance of mighty pine
do you wish to survive, are you willing to accept this powerful cosmic ride…
to visit this white Meca you won’t need a porous shadow written on the back of a worthless dime
just one honest, well-measured, warm-hearted rhyme
you better rise
before this ungodly decline, spills a more potent dark vine
you better rise
find your liberated strong spine, tell her about the power hidden in the noblest pine
there is a place
there is a time
far away from this deathly abyss
not every hopeful swing is a deserted, unfruitful miss
not every cosmic love needs the sainted presence of a wet, blessed kiss
Before the last Red Dawn
be more
don’t be another well-spent
miserable pawn
Red Dawnn is looking
Red dawn needs
the One
who is alive, but has arisen, selflessly undone
the One
not touched by the filthy paws of fallen misery, called Rome
the One
who is ready to visit his long-awaited sunshine in the greenest home
the One
who knows the secret written in red blood in Aryan whitest bone
Before the majesty of Red Dawn,
everybody stands alone
become the great King
not the lame voice of an isolated pawn
Before the red eyes of Reddest Dawn,
be the rightful King
not a subdued and lost cryng swan
Before the red eyes of the last Red Dawn,
be the hero
be the One
open the door
enter, as you came
into the sanctity of
your forgotten home…
The truth was
you were never specter
who walked helplessly
alone…so
Let it be written
so…
let it be
done.
It was strange, this awkward momentum, this unrecognizably strange feeling had become his eternal companion, and this unwanted, surrogate malice a too-good friend. He was alone again with his own created misery and prouncing, stale odor of well-fortified agony. Pulsating, wet, and trembling hot feeling that only the old mind and even older body can share, together with the fate of this wretched world.
The sky was still red, and fresh rain just started pouring down on him almost like he wanted to be washed away from the nightly sins, sins that still haunted him during the red sunrise which dared to take an intruding peek into his heavy and weary mind.
“What happened, what just happened?!?” he mumbled to himself
“We have been attacked, my Sire!”
“Did we, good, good…help me, help me to stand on my tired feet young man, would you be so kind and help this old warrior… “ his great analytic and strategic mind was still confused, the earth was still spinning and he lost his conscience for few brief moments.
Again he asked tired and practically sitting in a pile of watery, grayish-looking mud mixed with red blood…
” Young man, did we win?”
“Yes, My Lord, we did…are you okay, my Lord?”
“Watch him, he is still in shock, I will go and check others!”
“Good to know, you know, my mind is not sharp like before and this battle is a heavy burden that reminds me I am too damn, old for these bloody adventures…but I would be lying to you, my young friend, I must admit ferocity and pure savagery, and the smell of the battle still fills my old heart and my old rusty bones with joy and strangely gives me purpose, to hold on to what is left of my long life.”
“My Lord, shall I call the Medic, can you stand?”
“You have a nasty wound on your forehead, if I may be so bold…”
“Do I?, Young man I will be just fine, I need just a moment to gather my thoughts, and then, then this old man will get up.”
“As you command My Lord!”
“Go!, go help the others, help those who are in worse shape than this old fool” he gave the young soldier a brief but painful maybe even unwanted smile.
Red dawn is a surreal, most of the time unplannable experience when the atrocity of the previous night reveals the dark reality of war in its undeniable and gruesome vile glory…
How many red dawns have passed through my life, I think I lost count…maybe too many, are they even worth remembering…I don’t know, sometimes.
“Enough of pointless and prosaic monologues…”
“Get up you old fool!”
“Get up, on your feet Soldier!”
Finally, Tyr managed to find his footing in this bloody misery filled with a colorful plethora of hazardous fumes, forcefully placed in the middle of an uncontrollable set of still raging fires, and surrounded by an ungodly amount of dead bodies, too many unfortunate soldiers were scattered all over the field, the whole place looked like something had just exploded with unreal force.
He was down below, in the ditch, and a wet, cold kiss of rain had now become his new antagonizing enemy, Climbing up there will not be an easy task, yes if he, was only 10 years younger, this once laughable and pitiful, appearing undertaking would be just a mild breeze, a miserable obstacle for a grandiose warrior of his immense stature.
After almost 15 excruciating minutes our hero managed to drag his battered body to the top of this cursed Hill,and then he saw..it was not some ungodly random Hill but a giant crater of surreal proportions…he survived an impossible hit, a hit from the orbital cannon.
It was a gigantic weapon, a terrifying monstrosity of colossal proportions, the “eighth wonder”, almost like the Holy Grail in terms of military engineering, of unknown origin. The blue beam of that death machine, set high above, mercilessly rained down death on everything below, directly under his callous, numb gaze.
“I think, there is one thing I can happily scratch from my bucket list…hit by a giant plasma beam and live to tell the tale…done.”
He was never guided by the vast amount of superficial feelings, maybe his gut feeling, but not the usual annoying stuff, you know this warm fussy thing, that will many times get you killed in the heat of the battle without warning or heartful and decent measured excuse…
On the battlefield, You can think straight or you will die, the only worse destiny than that is the very dark possibility: people, who trust you with their lives, under your command will die because “your mind was in the moment”, at that time.
I survived, yes you old bastard, you survived another one…drink, I need a drink…I’m thirsty like a junkyard dog abandoned by his heartless masters and unwillingly traumatized by too much heat in the unrelenting summer sun.
Soon the medical vehicle without noise appeared before him, two people dressed in medical uniforms, without too many words started to scan his body and heal his laceration and contusions.
“Drink, I need to drink…”
“Just a second my Lord”
“Here, water…my Sire”
“Water, water?!?”
“Is this all you have, damn water!”
“Let me think, my Lord”
“Here…I am not supposed to give you this, but you once saved my old man’s life, Cheers…”
“Cheers my good Man, Cheers!… and tell your father I salute him, Tyr salutes him!”
“He passed away, last year, my Lord, but thank You, it means a lot.”
“Then to his blessed Soul, may he be found in Elysium surrounded by the beautiful light of our most glorious sun, may his lips taste the sweet nectar in endless rivers filled to the brim with the most delicious mead, and may he be forever united and loved by his loved ones.”
“Thank you, my Lord!”
“Don’t mention it, thank you, my young brother…thank you from the bottom of my old and weary heart”
“Go now, save some lives my young heroes…” Tyr gave them a big wink and gracious smile.
“If anybody is left to be saved…” he said quietly with a sad voice
After the medical vehicle had silently left in the same manner as it came, he glanced at the still red-looking horizon, and then he calmly took another look inside the freshly made, smoldering crater, the entire eighth garrison of Jarl’s army was vaporized, all it took was just one deadly and precise hit.
“Cowards, bloody cowards, but this is how they fight, without honor, without decency, without heart, soulless mf….!!!”, and many times these lifeless ruins are the result of their war doctrine.
They strike with deadly precision, without warning from high above, and then like cowards, they are, instantly vanish in the far corners, in the vast darkness of an unknown Cosmos.
For the longest time, we have suspected they are multidimensional beings, a highly advanced race of predators from another cosmos, using some type of multiversal, cloaking technology.
With time our darkest suspicions came true and with higher intensity and more frequent intervals of their attacks we found out what these beings, really are…
They are a race of multidimensional electro-magnetic, polymorphs, the fluid polymorphic body is fused, together with organic tissue gathered directly from our Cosmos, and this organic tissue must be periodically replaced with fresh substance, so these dark-minded abominations are nasty, nasty bastards who will grab you when you least expect, and tear you down to the pieces with no mercy.
If you are lucky they will kill you first if not you will die in unimaginable agony, nobody has ever survived the surprise attack of these nightly hellish birds, full of ancient hate and filled with never-satisfied bloodlust.
And so far not one enemy vessel has been captured or the body retrieved…so far. this may change..very soon.
The plan is in the making and the trap has been set, now all we have to do is wait.
But my patience is getting thin these days, I want these heartless animals, I want them badly, they must meet the blade of my adamantium sword.
These godless abominations, called from the darkest corners of the unknown Cosmos simply must die…there is no other way if we as a species want to survive this dark assault, this dark godless crusade.
Soon Red Dawn will be upon them, I have seen enough death on our side, I have seen enough kids growing up without the bravery of their heroic fathers, enough children growing up without the love of their loving, beautiful mothers…
I have witnessed too many broken limbs, too much blasphemous inhuman, small-minded savagery, and ruthless defiling of the core sanctity that creates our way of life, no more, no more!!!
We have bled enough…and, soon, very soon it will be their turn to bleed.
“I am TYR, God of Law, I am the lawful bringer of the Spear(sword) of Justice, I am the noble voice of merciless Death….and I will haunt you till the end of times.”
“You can hide, for now, you spineless, inhuman devils… but know this!”
“You, cannot escape, you cannot run forever from my righteous wrath!”
With a blinding flash, a new figure appeared in the place where our tired hero had been standing just a moment before.
Where before stood a subdued and tired old man, ready to visit the last autumn of his long life, now there was an imposing male figure in his late thirties, prepared to fulfill his given oath.
A huge, perfectly built Man now stood before this smoldering crater, armed with a set of two penetrating and hypnotizing, deep blue eyes. His Blue eyes for a brief moment were filled with a menacing red color, then again turned into a calm blue heavenly color.
Eyes full of timeless hope accompanied by controlled anger of cosmic proportions with almost inhuman patience calmly observed the red horizon…which as the Blue Sun moved more and more towards the west slowly lost its red menacing features.
The sinister mystique of gloomy Red Dawn seemed to have stealthily disappeared with his return, ready to manifest again in its full, terrible beauty on another, less fortunate planet.
Red Dawn sadly never rests, this is the way of the current cosmos but so was the case with our freshly returned hero.
And sometimes, “The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world”
The End…for now…
In the Norse pantheon, virtually all the Aesir gods were in some way linked to the concept of war. Thor embodied strength, Odin was a leader, and Heimdall was a watchman.
Among all these gods of war, however, Tyr was named as the greatest. He was the bravest and most valiant god and oversaw laws and oaths.
It would seem obvious that the most courageous god would be at the forefront of Viking Age mythology, but Tyr seems remarkable in his absence.
The most well-known story of Tyr is not of his feats in battle, but of how he lost the ability to fight as well as he should. The Norse god of war was courageous enough to lose a limb in order to protect his people.
According to legend, the trickster deity Loki fathered three monstrous children with a giantess called Angrboða. The gods knew that Loki’s children would be their foes at Ragnarök.
They did not kill the monsters outright, though. Instead, so as to not violate the sanctity of Asgard, they banished them.
The serpent Jömundandr was thrown into the sea. He soon grew so large that he completely encircled Midgard.
Hel, who was equal parts beautiful young woman and rotting corpse, was sent to Niflheim. She became the queen of the dead there.
The gods had another plan for the wolf Fenrir, however. They hoped they could avert Ragnarök by raising him to be their ally.
They took Fenrir to Asgard and attempted to train him to trust them. As he grew larger, however, the gods and goddesses became more frightened of them.
Only Tyr was brave enough to approach the rapidly growing wolf. Each day, he brought Fenrir meat and attempted to earn his friendship.
The gods soon became convinced, however, that it would be impossible to control Fenrir. Each day he grew larger and stronger until they decided that he would have to be bound.
They made a strong fetter to hold him, but knew they would not be able to force him into it. Instead, they appealed to Fenrir’s pride and claimed that they wanted him to try it on as a test of his strength.
Fenrir allowed the chains to be placed on him as a challenge. To the gods’ horror, he easily snapped the bonds.
They tried again, making a chain twice as strong as the first. Once again, Fenrir broke it with a single flex of his muscles.
Knowing that they had reached the limits of their own crafting abilities, the Aesir went to the dwarves. They created a magical binding that was as thin and flexible as a ribbon, but they assured the gods that it would hold any monster.
This seemingly weak string made Fenrir suspicious, however. He also claimed that breaking such a flimsy thing would not win him the fame that snapping great chains would.
The wolf answered: If you get me bound so fast that I am not able to loose myself again, you will skulk away, and it will be long before I get any help from you, wherefore I am loth to let this band be laid on me; but in order that you may not accuse me of cowardice, let some one of you lay his hand in my mouth as a pledge that this is done without deceit. The one asa [god] looked at the other, and thought there now was a choice of two evils, and no one would offer his hand, before Tyr held out his right hand and laid it in the wolf’s mouth. But when the wolf now began to spurn against it the band grew stiffer, and the more he strained the tighter it got. They all laughed except Tyr; he lost his hand.
-Snorri Sturluson, The Prose Edda (trans. Anderson)
