I wrote this for the my half-brother when he passed away earlier this year and read it at the funeral
Ok… I slaved many hours over this and it took me about a week. The result is a tedious, overdone juxtaposition of all my poetic ideas and vocabularly and it’s just TOO long. Kudos to those who can be bothered reading it. Subject matter? Pretty self-explanatory… Now 100% Typo Free
Tonight's Residence…The point where your neck / And shoulders meet, my lips wish / To reside tonight
11/16/09
Inspiration came from the Jury Summons I received in the mail today.
Inspired by the most amazing book – Women Who Run With The Wolves.
Some fiction with loads of truth.
There is a story in Norse mythology regarding the origin of language. Odin, the god of gods, impaled himself on the Yggdrasil – the World Tree – with his own spear. He hung, upside down, looking over the world for a period of nine days. During this time he took neither food nor water, but rather was forced to consume himself, to reinvent himself and gain a new perspective on the world below and above him.
On the ninth day, the spear snapped and he plummeted to earth. During the fall, he was given a vision of eighteen runes – a gift of forbidden knowledge from the tree in return for his self sacrifice. He carried the runes to men, and the written word was born.
Similar stories in almost every religion parallel Odin’s – it has all stemmed from somewhere – it has grown. It is up to us to determine whether it blossoms or devours. This group has been established to recognize the written word regardless of dialect, origin, religion, or intent, and to celebrate the poetry it inspires.
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