In Which We Exhume An Ancient Epic Poem Even Bawdier And Bloodier Than Beowulf

The Fjord of The Kings

We read a lot of poetry submissions because people think that we publish original poetry on this site. We don’t, except sometimes the musings of Will Hubbard on Owen Wilson. Still, occasionally an exception must be made.

Such was the case when we received this missive from our dear old friend “Ingrid”:

This is kind of long, offensive, and would be a stretch to rationalize its relevance to your blog, but this is the only thing I’ve written in like a year. It’s also totally more badass than Liz Phair’s “Flower.” The premise is this: I had great sex a couple of weeks ago with this Norwegian painter named Martin who lost interest in me after I broke up with my boyfriend, so I wrote this ill-advised, demeaning poem last night to win him back.

– Ingrid Bjorkman

A Quick One While He’s Away

by Ingrid Bjorkman and Ingmar Nilsson

Part I

Invocation of Bragi

Please sing to me, oh Bragi, I’ll
Get plugged by Gunnar doggy style
I am no Snorri and this is no Edda
My purpose no grander than to give some head-ah

I betrayed my man like Vidkun Quisling
I never cheat but this Norseman was sizzling
How could I resist fucking one of the Aesir
When my boyfriend would be none the wiser?
So I got on all fours and he tapped my ass hard
The he got on Sleipnir and rode back to Asgard

Part II

Love Poem for Gunnar

Not fucking you is making me blue
I just broke up with a sweet-faced Jew
Now I crave a foreskin smorgasbord
So run me through with your Viking sword
My cunt is so wet, it’s ruled by Njord
Just put your longship in my fjord

My will is strong like that of Hoenir
To stretch my lips around your boner
Show no mercy with your heavy Mjolnir
I want to become completely vulner-
Able, exploring like Amundsen, Roald
Risking the elements to touch your pole

You command my wetness like King Knut
Raid my monastery, take quim for loot
My lust for you will never cease
Like Alfred Nobel I want your piece
I don’t know if you’re a decent artist
But of all my lovers, you were the hardest

I’d wank your dick over Les Paul’s Gibson
You have cooler hair than Henrik Ibsen
When your mascara runs, your eyes are smoky
Baby, you’re more epicene than Loki
Like Loki I want to get my hands on your hammer
When a lover gives you these lines, don’t you want to slam her?

Like Edvard Munch, you make me scream
I swear I’ll suck you ’til you cream
Fill up my tank with that big nozzle
Which spans the nine worlds like Yggdrasil

Your prick feels prehensile like Jormungander
When a girl is this horny, don’t you want her?
To deny me the pleasure is utterly lame.
Your wiener’s so huge. Is it from Jotunheim?

I adore your golden magnum cock
When you explode it signals Ragnarokk
You’re something out of Norse mythology
You’re giving me a whore’s pathology

Sami culture is now revived in my pants
I want to show you a traditional Lapp dance
Give me your sweet, fresh, one-eyed Odin
Ram it in me, shoot your load in

Odin sees volvas regarding his fate
Come see my vulva and we’ll fornicate
I’ll wrap my legs around you like the Kraken
Come on, slam it, let’s get packin’

Like a Viking I’ll attend your thing
The hall awaits its Mountin’ King
Don’t be like Ivar and leave me boneless
Erik the Red spent many years homeless

Don’t you think it needs a haven?
(Your stiff appendage that I’m cravin’)
Withdrawal has been making me cry,
”Be my Sigurd; stick your snake in my eye!”

In May you must go back to Norway
So call up some friends, we’ll have a four-way
Take me back to your ice palace
Ream me again with your nice phallus

Call up Sven and call up Bjorn
Amuse ourselves, film homemade porn
If you don’t want me now, you’re clearly a pooftah
So come on whip it out, make me say, “Uff dah!”
And shove it on in two thirds of my holes
Spare me the third, your cock’s big as a troll’s

And just like a troll’s it turns to stone
When I suck your tasty bone
I want to give you a really great beejin’
Who wouldn’t fellate this hot Norwegian?
Norway is Lutheran, I think that’s a bore
I just want to get nailed on the cathedral door

My heart burns, as if torched by black metal-ers
Come plunder my fiefdom like Viking settlers
My cunt tastes better than your grandmother’s lutefisk
Beat me, Thangbrand, with your giant crucifix
I’d throw myself on your funeral pyre
Singing, “Come on baby light my fire.”

You come from the land of the midnight sun
Well, My bed is the land of the all-night fun
I’ll give you a blowjob and I will be humming
“Ride of the Valkyries.” You’ll say, “Valhalla I am coming!”
Then you’ll sweep on with threshing oar
Having spent your seed in this little whore

Ingrid Bjorkman and Ingmar Nilsson are pseudonyms. Come on, you know…

PSYCHEDELIC PSYWEDES FROM PSYTOCKHOLM, DUNGEN!