1. |
Gifted to a Glutted Pyre
10:23
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Veins thinning
Pupils sprawling
Flesh creeping
Distended through time
Entire species succumb to fire or flood
Earthen pressure bursting at the plates
Ejaculated death seed
Forests vanquished by magma, blanketed in pumice
And so, begins the vast undoing
Animalia folds to the wind
Ashen flurries paint the dimming sky
Caustic rivers of poison counter their currents
Laws are dispersed to chaotic forces
And god pleads
A cosmic pyre seeking resolve
In the glow of divinity’s funeral
What a cherished thought…
To be thrown amongst the debris of humanity
Constant growth and consumption
Hitting a bloodied brick wall
And now countless stars burn in harmony
To the clamor of our collective death
God and Man
Gifted to a glutted pyre
Judgement | Judgement
Constant growth and consumption
Delusional vacuum thought
And now countless stars burn in harmony
To the clamor of our ultimate death
For our fate, what tribulation could befall
That were un-deserved to the hands of plenty
If only malignant movers of history
Had been exorcised by ruthless powers
Vested in the cold weapons of yore
A dream
A dream to a revelation
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2. |
Morbid Rubicon
04:07
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The die is cast. Hate returns out of the past.
The haunts of the last days remain
as scornful thorns in the surviving elements
Screaming in lines of birthing-blood
Screaming in so-called virgin lands
We’ve crossed the event horizon
as a child forced through divine thighs.
Hands clasped round the lighting rod
hatred coursing through our veins.
Fellow warriors, our victory comes from within!
Your past ablaze - smoldering remains
The die is cast. Hate returns out of the past.
Nothing shall remain of your soul, so woebegone and still.
To wonder, have you found your Rubicon?
And to look upon those carrion hands, so fixed to kill, laced in blood
Have you tried...have you even tried to cross it?
There is a revolution. The die is cast.
Have you found your Rubicon?
Have you tried...have you even tried to cross it?
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3. |
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Faith scarcely fathoms its own moribundity
lest it envisions its own demise
and traces a carcass through time - bloating with every decade.
The stripping of this last vesture commands little force.
For all the high works held by mortal man
in dirty hands of clergy, betrothed to the obsolete,
sunken planks of their morality ship.
The pages, left unattended, soaking.
Laughing at their abandon.
Our vivisection informs thusly; that the caprices of
mass movement and the pointed politics of newer, greater sins,
constantly berate and bludgeon this archaic corpse.
Yet, they raise a caricature of their own historic-barbarity
while mere treading of rising water in the ocean of modernity.
To what end?
A folly unlike any before.
Old one, faith, keep up - if you even dare.
But moribund rest,
for something of such sallow worth,
paints one the wiser.
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4. |
Religiosity
03:20
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5. |
Cimelia Pelf
05:54
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Likened to a bull, tenaciously red with hatred
yet patient for the gain in a muscular mode of deception
pulling the wool for unequal exchange
flaying generations to immiseration
Cimelia - bejeweled gold
fanciful disbelief becomes you
as you look upon halls of wealth
with the watery impoverished eyes of children
heed! Their cup runneth over…
while thy table bespoke famine
heed! They rest on the laurels of slave masters
While thy calloused hands carry aged burden
heed! Breath deep, a judicious air
The wall grows long…longer still…
visions of gore in the vengeance waking
vortex of misery, unsheathed hatred quaking
inverted oppression in the violent expulsion
intransigent reprisal, unyielding convulsion
Breath deep, a judicious air
Lungs filtering sleeves of gold
Vomiting righteousness and equity
As the wall grows longer
Yes, it too, warms… tenaciously red
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6. |
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Pray thee, sources of might
Blade beckoned children of lesser caste
Grovel at hand to feed upon echoed slight
Worm lined halls of the affluent past
Enslavers heralded the insolence and barbarity of archaic religiosity
Mutated to a self-cultivated philosophy and festered unto today
A divine right of psychic-vampires
They feast from a sullied table of the old guard, long dead
Pray thee, sources of might
A world bloodletting
Stony, vacant, in the face of global death
Glassy eyed, in the face of global fucking death
Machines devour as I gaze upon thy world-flesh
with famished curiosity but suffer the loss of discernment or care –
is it not better to have caressed her exsanguinated form?
the lubricating life-oil.
A tree grows from its (death) seed
Nurtured by history
A perpetual mode
of consumption and defecation
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7. |
Anamnesis
03:34
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Corrupt anamnesis
Serpentine/Libertine
Self-affirming soul rot
Anamnesis
Longing to the form
Self-affirming death
To death
To death
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8. |
The Luminous Veil
06:30
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There is no greater sorrow than the pale imitations of our past
These deformed memories that bade our ear to do as asked
Perpetual hauntings
From our brackish sight
To look back through ages (in horror)
And bathe us in scalding night
Our death valance, luminous veil
Recollection reformed in boundless light
Illuminate
Anamnesis in horrid white
Can we recall the last shreds of happiness?
Can we live in these slivers of time?
Let us conjure a future upon corrupt mental images of the past…
And feign victory
beguiled by what we know to be true
oppressive, melancholic gleam
veiled for a time of ever-diming shine
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Luminous Veil recommends:
Blight Witch Regalia
by Cicada The Burrower
unique. taps into a genuine creative impulse. balances easy-listening / complex listening.
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nails the muddling, lo-fi blackness
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under appreciated
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