Reflecting on My Curse

(svensk version)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~Reflecting on My Curse~~~~~
I am the Yule-log put into the fire
that's the only christmas bath
that can cleanse and wash away desire
I stand in the middle of the burning pentagram
As soon as I reach for love my hands get burned
as soon as some being of joy nears me touching my glamour so does she
I see an old flame dancing repeating the circle again
I see the old games in this ceremony thriving to appear the same
Deep is these feelings of me
Deep I portray to be
I tear the wrappings of my gifts and they become ash and goes up in
smoke
I tear the floor..
...remembering a song: Ashes to Ashes...Dust to Dust
The Mother of All strong, Lillith, Earth's first Lust...
Dragons spouts fire of woe and regret and I fly back into the wall
Dragons spouts fire of joy and "well met" and after a day I begin to reflect
The curse lingers on...it lurks as it comes...
The curse never shows...in daylight never los...
Aye Lo! the Day has again come.
Alas! But where did it come from?
I sit down crestfallen once again
No love and too many friends
I stand up but my legs won't bear
My heart I tear and breast I bare
I see the pointy star and the 5 flames jumping
I have been hurt so far by everyone of them
The one with lack of sincerity
The three with lack of identity
The one with lack of coherency, consistency
Yes I am the christmas goat
The Goat of Mendes
I am the fallen angel
Lucifer - the morning star
shining so bright over Bethlehem
In this O so Silent Night
The Ruler of the Earth still rules........AVE SATANAS
I shall walk over to my dark cornertable - and only watch from now on...
~~
~~
*Deep I sit in silence...only the willow moves outside the window...
though it's been dead and cut down some time ago...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X-mas97~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~LordParzifal

Be well,
LordParzifal

The Christmas Fairy (Tomten)

(svensk version)
~*~ The Christmas Fairy ~*~
*This is an old Christmas poem that is always
on our christmas-must bottles in the north like
the Santa on the CocaCola bottles with the first
verse on it and old wintry pictures of Santa.
Enjoy!
~*~
Midwinternight's cold is hard,
the stars glimmer and shine.
All asleep in lonely farm
deep during the hour of midnight.
The Moon travels it's silent path,
the snow shines white upon fir, pine and heart,
the snow shines white upon our roofs.
Only the Christmas Fairy wakes from the woods.
~*~
Standing there in grey at the barn's door,
grey against the white drift,
looking, as many winters before,
up towards the moon's disc,
looking to the forest, where pine and fir
draws around the farm it's shadowy girdle,
brooding, alas it seems of no avail,
over a peculiar riddle held in veils.
~*~
Brings his hand through beard and hair,
shakes his head and hood - - -
>>no, that riddle is too much to bear,
no, it can not be understood>> - - -
Chases, as he usually do, shortly
like searching thoughts away,
goes to arrange and peddle,
goes to attain but not to meddle.
~*~
Goes to provision-shed and tool-shed,
tries all locks on the doors - - -
the cows dream at the moon's lightspread
summerdreams inside the stalls;
oblivious of harness and whip and rein
Horsie in the stable too has a dream:
the crib, he leans over,
is filled with scenting clover; - - -
~*~
Goes to the fence for lamb and sheep,
sees, how they are asleep therein;
goes to the hens, where the cock's afeet
proud on his highest pin;
Rex upon kennel's straw is well,
awakes and slightly wags his tail,
Rex knows his fairy friend,
and that he is his best hairy friend.
~*~
*Santa's little helper runs to turn the next page
*Santa HO HO HO's and continues...
~*~
The Fairy finally lurks to see
the beloved gentry,
a long while, found had he
they hold his endeavours in glory;
children's chamber he then tip-toe
to see the sweet little ones he approach,
no-one must of that ill regard:
that is his greatest reward.
~*~
So he has seen them, father and son,
clean through many lines
slumber as children; but where from
do they come down through the skies?
Soon generation succeed to generation there,
bloomed, aged, went - - - but where?
The Riddle, that can not be
understood, then came back to me!
~*~
The Fairy wanders to the barn's loft:
there he has his home and hold
high up on the hay-loft in it's fragrance so soft,
near by the nest of the swallow;
now, alas, the swallow's dwelling lies empty,
but in the spring with leaf and flower she's likely
to come again to fill the void,
by the dear mate followed.
~*~
Then she always has much to twitter
about plenty a souvenir from the travels,
nothing however about the riddle,
that stirs in the fairy's marbles.
Through an opening in the barn's wall, down
on the old man's beard the moon it shines,
the streak it glimmers upon his beard,
the fairy he broods and it puzzles his head.
~*~
Quiet lies the woods and the whole country round,
life out there is frozen,
from the far and the stream's fall, sounds
alone the low silent rushing.
The Fairy listens and, half dreaming,
thinks he then hears time's streaming,
wonders, whereto it shall go,
wonders, where the fountain may flow.
~*~
Midwinternight's cold is hard,
the stars glimmer and shine.
All asleep in lonely farm
good until the first morninglight.
The Moon lowers it's silent path,
the snow shines white upon fir, pine and heart,
the snow shines white upon our roofs.
Only the Christmas Fairy wakes from the woods.
~*~
~*~*Written by Viktor Rydberg 1881.~*~
~*~Rendered by Lord Parzifal at Christmas Holidays 1996.~*~


Be well,
LordParzifal