If I don’t read, I get lonely. If I don’t write, I forget who I am.
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@ignusphyrralindquist-blog
If I don’t read, I get lonely. If I don’t write, I forget who I am.
Jack Driscoll (via freethepoets)

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Isolation
With isolation, truth comes Hidden deep inside, in the places you've forgotten But the painful truth of that is, It will remain dusty and unseen Because you've given too much away And are now held back by bonds Bonds that seek you out evermore Bonds that hold you to your choices Right or wrong
I tried to do the right thing in my most of my life How wrong did it do me, wrong was my strife But what is living? If you do not suffer? What is living, if you die without joy? Nevermore! Nevermore Poe once wrote! Aye, I do believe Poe knew something That we all don't. Nevermore.
Nevermore, shall we live with our own convictions For we gave away our soul Our soul - chess pieces in a never-ending, undermined game! Our soul, damned to our own shame! Please, take me away from here Where should I go?
In a whisper, "Isolation"
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist
Misanthropy: Origins
I wish to be here no more I wish to be alone Alone in the woods, with nothing but my own As the Allfather said Giving myself to myself A sacrifice with a small, earthly price to pay
This flesh is nothing but a feeble excuse To dominate the mind that only gets misconstrued Or tangled in evil desires
I wish to be alone Not here anymore I am trapped By my very own existence If I should call it that!
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist
I wish I didn't, believe me, but I care about you.
I wish I didn't, believe me, but I care about you.
You are the dark in the blackest of shadows. You are the embers of the destructive fire that burns the green woods. To love you, would be to give up all control over my flesh and thoughts. You would consume me in a manner that is inhumane. But I care. I care so deeply it is a constant, grieving, pain. I am lost in your existence. You are all I breathe, dream, live. I wish I didn't, but I care about you in a way you don't deserve. You have possessed me and there's not much more I can do but give in.
To Wander, One Must First Fight Their Darkness..
I feel the pull of something greater Slowly tugging from the depths below It's a faint shiver, the way I let my spirit wander
Beneath the surface, a storm comes The stillness before the striking of light A pregnant pause, Before the Mjölnir falls I am not meant to cling on to heavy silence I am meant to linger on the notes that drum softly Like a whisper shimmering between the veil I am meant to slip between the silent shadows As my spirit drifts in evanescent waves
I am who I am, Tomorrow I shall be someone else Stronger, wiser, and wild as the flora that praises the moody sky..
Darkness creeps, bringing the shockwaves of trauma once more My oaths ring loudly, deafening, debilitating My breath escapes me, time halts I see the air in all its particles, drops of fear, spreading close together My face, drawing up, tightening as my pores clench together My heart loses its beat, and gallops after the numbness that has ravaged my body I fight, I struggle to find the correct reality, Somewhere within, I hear a child crying Writhing in fear
And then, as leisurely as it came, The darkness subsides and I catch my breath Yes, Tomorrow I shall be someone else
Wild as the flora that praises the moody sky..
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist

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Rán
The seas I fear, They groan volumes, Tomes of knowledge From lifetimes gone. And somehow I have forgotten The words to the rhyme, That'll capture my soul, And sing it back home.
For the sails are not raised This vessel ship is sinking And I am afraid When the water rushes in, Even the sea spirits won't be able to save me,
They come from afar, To watch me fight, To watch me struggle To stay afloat
Twas a long time ago, I first set sail Only to fall into the hands Of Ran's nine daughters
Yet, still I carry the imprint of that murky death And the seas that swallowed me whole, As I sunk to my forgotten grave. Still, sometimes I think I hear the ocean Though I despise it This is my vessel, Not the body of a drowned woman But the body of a woman with a raging sea within
One day, I will find Ran again And perhaps she will have mercy on me. But not this time, For I shall never step foot near her grasp
But still, I hear her calling for me...
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist
Secret Thoughts: Chapter 1
The wind blows curiously and my mind leaps after it. I am quiet as the window morphs into prison bars, the panes that turn to aching pain and subdue the same curiosity the wind sings of. What have I become? I am happy here, yet still - my once roaring fire has now become a dim flicker. Keeping house keeps me safe, but is unbearable at times. I have dangerous dreams wide awake, the kind the inspires one to flee. I chase ghosts of tomorrow thru fields of grass, in a dark forest of murmering trees. I shudder, and turn my head. What causes I, to be so reckless in my thoughts? I am my happiest, even as I stare out this window while my two children are dancing in the far away meadows of their dreams. My spirit strays and lingers in the places I have never roamed, my soul aches. I am restless only because I have been still too long...what could possibly cure this quiet obsession of mine? This longing and unquenchable thirst.
I am my Father's Daughter
I am your offspring The regretful stain On the teeth of self destruction Let me count the ways That you have betrayed me Inside I'm still a child Left behind in the ashes Disgust, neglect Thy poisonous charade
A heart of dust Filled with distrust For your sins have passed Down unto me In my blood pulses a demon You haven't rid yourself And the monster seeks shelter in me It is not supposed to be
But I am my father's daughter His mistakes breed in me Fill the footsteps Leaving behind another path
My temperance is a tedious chore The throes of life behind closed doors
Release me from your heritage! Burn the family tree! A tic in the mind of a prodigy, I stand amongst the beaten, The misunderstood and those Condemned to ancestral sacrifices
My anger, my beautiful strength Set free all my tears and screams
For I will watch this world burn Under flaming arrows from my thoughts Cannot swallow my capabilities Never underestimate my silence
For I am my father's daughter The resilient difference And the timorous likeness Brace thyself for judgement Raining down like Viking swords.
© 2008 Ignusphyrra Lindquist Needs revamping
Berkano, In a Dream it Came
Hold me close, spirit Womb in which I find nourishment Signals were sent to me in a dream Berkano emerged, glowing and pulsing Nothing like it has ever come to me
Awake, my eyes were open Yet still I saw Beorc A merging of the physical plane And metaphysical arrangement I was astonished And heeded the call
What do I fear? Loss of control No tight grasp on my own thoughts Panic within Time that halts
Bjarkan Entomb me within your wisdom Shower me with your loving light That I may break through this fear And absorb your mystery
Berkano Sets upon me a harsh task If I wish to continue I must fight my shadows The darkness that creeps in
One thing I know I must die so I am anew in rebirth I am in the making Once upon smoldering ashes I rise up and flow out
Beorc, receive me, So that I may know your mystery!
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist
Restless spirit and child
The wind blows And I see you through clouded lenses My child, my blood Shall you have my restless spirit? Or will one place, long years there, be enough? Will you chase foreign lands in your mind As ties that bind, keep your feet firmly planted? Shall I teach you all there is to know, So we may seek the world together? Or will I damn myself to you? Will my roaming spirit be a painful memory to you? Forgive me For I know not what to do.
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist

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O my enemy. Do I terrify?
From Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath (via hush-syrup)
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
Sylvia Plath (via feellng)
“The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.”
Anaïs Nin (via wordpainting)
We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art—we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.
The New Woman, Anais Nin (via onlylivinggirlinla)

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A Hail to Sunna - Morning Salutation
The silence, welcomed with gooseflesh and sunlight Becomes heavy with anticipation of the day. Hail to Sunna, most bright! Hail to the Æsir! Hail to the Vanir! Hail to all those who came before me! A good morn' to all, and to all - may the Gods see you!
© 2014 Ignusphyrra Lindquist