Odin Returns from Ragnarök

Despite Christian attempts to say that Odin is dead, Voluspsa is still quite clear:

Now rides the Strong One to Rainbow Door,Powerful from heaven, the All-Ruler:

If that does not describe the All-Father, then what does!

As Odin 'dies' in combat, he will automatically return to Valhalla, as will Thor, so the Aesir can not lose at Ragnarök only prosper!

Hail Odin, Hail Thor!

Dangerous Ground

It appears that scientists have studied long and hard (ooh errr!) to create what man has already created throughout history without any problems -SPERM!

And what is the benefit? More ways to over-populate a planet with finite resources!

The speech of a maiden should no man trust

nor the words which a woman says;

for their hearts were shaped on a whirling wheel

and falsehood fixed in their breasts.

Michael Jackson - Gone to the Gods

Michael hit the stage for one last show, which was not a memorial but a wake! He was clearly a Christian so, by rights, he should be up there singing to Jehovah on his throne! Or was he, and al those other believers of the nailed God wrong?



If so, he will be singing to Odin instead, as Odin always loved music and poetry!





Michael appears, despite the rumours, to have been a good man, and his family have shown themselves dignified to the World, in the most trying of circumstances. May the Aesir help them in thier grief (and yes I know they are not Asatru, but the Gods can still help!)

Mike Ashley - A Lesson Learnt the Hard Way

So Newcastle United is being sold off at £100 million, so what! Their glorious owner has spent £500 million to take them backwards 15 years, is he a MACKEM!

For all his glorious bravado upon his arrival Mr Ashley has done diddly squat! He should have listened to Odin's words:

As the eagle who comes to the ocean shore,
Sniffs and hangs her head,
Dumfounded is he who finds at the Thing
No supporters to plead his case.

Thor is on the March

Once more Thor has shown his power! his lightning bolts have lit up our skies once more. Yes, one person has died, and his family deserves sympathy.

Question his, what did the lad do to upset the Gods? Mjolnir never strikes without a good reason!

Discovering the Runes

Wounded I hung on a wind-swept gallows
For nine long nights,
Pierced by a spear, pledged to Odhinn,
Offered, myself to myself
The wisest know not from whence spring
The roots of that ancient rood


They gave me no bread,
They gave me no mead,
I looked down;
with a loud cry
I took up runes;
from that tree I fell.



Nine lays of power
I learned from the famous Bolthor, Bestla' s father:
He poured me a draught of precious mead,
Mixed with magic Odrerir.



Waxed and throve well;
Word from word gave words to me,
Deed from deed gave deeds to me,


Runes you will find, and readable staves,
Very strong staves,
Very stout staves,
Staves that Bolthor stained,
Made by mighty powers,
Graven by the prophetic god,



For the gods by Odhinn, for the elves by Dain,
By Dvalin, too, for the dwarves,
By Asvid for the hateful giants,
And some I carved myself:
Thund, before man was made, scratched them,
Who rose first, fell thereafter



Know how to cut them, know how to read them,
Know how to stain them, know how to prove them,
Know how to evoke them, know how to score them,
Know how to send them"; know how to send them,



Better not to ask than to over-pledge
As a gift that demands a gift";
Better not to send than to slay too many,



The first charm I know is unknown to rulers
Or any of human kind;
Help it is named,
for help it can give In hours of sorrow and anguish.


I know a second that the sons of men
Must learn who wish to be leeches.


I know a third: in the thick of battle,
If my need be great enough,
It will blunt the edges of enemy swords,
Their weapons will make no wounds.


I know a fourth:
it will free me quickly
If foes should bind me fast
With strong chains, a chant that makes Fetters spring from the feet,
Bonds burst from the hands.



I know a fifth: no flying arrow,
Aimed to bring harm to men,
Flies too fast for my fingers to catch it
And hold it in mid-air.


I know a sixth:
it will save me if a man
Cut runes on a sapling' s Roots
With intent to harm; it turns the spell;
The hater is harmed, not me.


I know a seventh:
If I see the hall
Ablaze around my bench mates,
Though hot the flames, they shall feel nothing,
If I choose to chant the spell.


I know an eighth:
that all are glad of,
Most useful to men:
If hate fester in the heart of a warrior,
It will soon calm and cure him.


I know a ninth:
when need I have
To shelter my ship on the flood,
The wind it calms, the waves it smoothes
And puts the sea to sleep,


I know a tenth:
if troublesome ghosts
Ride the rafters aloft,
I can work it so they wander astray,
Unable to find their forms,
Unable to find their homes.


I know an eleventh:
when I lead to battle Old comrades in-arms,
I have only to chant it behind my shield,
And unwounded they go to war,
Unwounded they come from war,
Unscathed wherever they are.


I know a twelfth:
If a tree bear
A man hanged in a halter,
I can carve and stain strong runes
That will cause the corpse to speak,
Reply to whatever I ask.


I know a thirteenth
if I throw a cup Of water over a warrior,
He shall not fall in the fiercest battle,
Nor sink beneath the sword,


I know a fourteenth, that few know:
If I tell a troop of warriors
About the high ones, elves and gods,
I can name them one by one.
(Few can the nit-wit name.)


I know a fifteenth,
that first Thjodrerir
Sang before Delling's doors,
Giving power to gods, prowess to elves,
Fore-sight to Hroptatyr Odhinn,


I know a sixteenth:
if I see a girl
With whom it would please me to play,
I can turn her thoughts, can touch the heart
Of any white armed woman.


I know a seventeenth:
if I sing it,
the young Girl will be slow to forsake me.


To learn to sing them, Loddfafnir,
Will take you a long time,
Though helpful they are if you understand them,
Useful if you use them,
Needful if you need them.


I know an eighteenth that I never tell
To maiden or wife of man,
A secret I hide from all
Except the love who lies in my arms,
Or else my own sister.


The Wise One has spoken words in the hall,
Needful for men to know,
Unneedful for trolls to know:
Hail to the speaker,
Hail to the knower,Joy to him who has understood,

When on a Visit....

To ask well, to answer rightly,
Are the marks of a wise man:
Men must speak of men's deeds,
What happens may not be hidden.



Wise is he not who is never silent,
Mouthing meaningless words:
A glib tongue that goes on chattering
Sings to its own harm.



A man among friends should not mock another:
Many believe the man
Who is not questioned to know much
And so he escapes their scorn.


The wise guest has his way of dealing
With those who taunt him at table:
He smiles through the meal,
not seeming to hear
The twaddle talked by his foes





The fastest friends may fall out
When they sit at the banquet-board:
It is, and shall be, a shameful thing
When guest quarrels with guest,



An early meal a man should take
Before he visits friends,
Lest, when he gets there,
he go hungry,
Afraid to ask for food.



To a false friend the footpath winds
Though his house be on the highway.
To a sure friend there is a short cut,
Though he live a long way off.


The tactful guest will take his leave Early,
not linger long:
He starts to stink who outstays his welcome
In a hall that is not his own.

Foolishness

The coward believes he will live forever
If he holds back in the battle,
But in old age he shall have no peace
Though spears have spared his limbs


When he meets friends, the fool gapes,
Is shy and sheepish at first,
Then he sips his mead and immediately
All know what an oaf he is,

An ill tempered, unhappy man
Ridicules all he hears,
Makes fun of others, refusing always
To see the faults in himself


Foolish is he who frets at night,
And lies awake to worry'
A weary man when morning comes,
He finds all as bad as before,


The fool thinks that those who laugh
At him are all his friends,
Unaware when he sits with wiser men
How ill they speak of him.


The fool thinks that those who laugh
At him are all his friends:
When he comes to the Thing and calls for support,
Few spokesmen he finds


The fool who fancies he is full of wisdom
While he sits by his hearth at home.
Quickly finds when questioned by others .
That he knows nothing at all.


The ignorant booby had best be silent
When he moves among other men,
No one will know what a nit-wit he is
Until he begins to talk;
No one knows less what a nit-wit he is
Than the man who talks too much.


To ask well, to answer rightly,
Are the marks of a wise man:
Men must speak of men's deeds,
What happens may not be hidden.


Wise is he not who is never silent,
Mouthing meaningless words:
A glib tongue that goes on chattering
Sings to its own harm.


A man among friends should not mock another:
Many believe the man
Who is not questioned to know much
And so he escapes their scorn.


The wise guest has his way of dealing
With those who taunt him at table:
He smiles through the meal,
not seeming to hear
The twaddle talked by his foes