A Charm for Óðinn(Poem)

I have drank from your horn
Raven God-
Wolf God-
See my ochre banners waving.
Sees my blackened sails raised.
I have crimson-misted the evergreen at your altars,
Made blóts in your name,
Skalded kennings to you in the Winter morning Yule:
But who would hear my charm?

I run the fields of the Niflhelm,
Stand the lines against Aethelstene,
Drink myself blind with Egil Skalgrimson
and vomit in the mouths of those who broke their oaths to him.
I make the blood wings on Olaf, traitor King
and light the pyre for my fallen kin —
Spread my legs for your shield-sons and wantonly taken the dagger:
Oh to see you again.

A gentle push into the water to Brunhilde —
carry me out into depths of your cunning —
and I am there with you.
But who would hear my charm?

Oh, you who jumps ships
and takes half of Freya’s lot on the field,
Who can eat faster then time,
You hanged God so magnificent,
Your finger in the Well, your own spear piercing your ribs,
You tree-blinded cross-roads-dwelling madman of an eight-legged steed,
Whose blood runs in runes,
Bound so to wisdom, you a gift unto you,
I would give you my right eye for your left turn.

I would hunt a bear with a pointed stick —
honey-struck —
and wear its amber fur on my torn flesh,
biting my shield and lost in your fury
I would trample the cross of a martyr god to be like you, Gangari:
Wanderer of the Wearyway.
But who would hear my charm?