Distress,
No less,
We haunt these forlorn graves!
Drowned under,
Such hunger.
Unholy things we crave.
‘Tis romance,
With no chance,
To save such cursed souls.
Peeling bells,
Of inward Hell,
Conspire soon to toll…
Twisting and contorting every thought that ill minds bare,
Eclipsing and supporting all the shadows gathered there.
The fetid resurrection of this nightly Lazarus.
This frozen tomb,
An undead womb,
To birth in blood and lust.
So worship of the moon, and beg to frigid stars.
Shall we howl to a silent God to heal the aeon’s scars?
Darkness falls.
Hark! Wolven calls.
There’s Christian blood to spill.
For once we feast,
Black thirsts will cease,
And all the night be still.
Interred with the vice of Cain,
A voyeur stalks these winter mists.
Peering through the skeletal trees,
The glowing moon had knelt to kiss.
Storm clouds and ebon skies,
We’ve come to blot out holy lies.
At break-neck speed,
Erase their creed,
With calloused last goodbyes.
A nameless daemon horde,
The zealots fall upon our swords.
Feast in funeral fog,
But spare their lives for grave-worms, crows, and dogs.
Beasts of prey delight,
In this endless windswept night,
Whilst strangled song birds vomit forth,
There requiems ‘pon quaking earth.
Atop the cusp of jagged crags that knife the swirling clouds.
Knee deep in corpses raise our flags victorious and proud!
Ishtar my queen I’ll awaken thee at last,
With the oldest form of worship from thy millennial repast.
To satiate desires in the veins of Yahweh’s flock.
Even seraphim will cower from nephilim sent to stalk.
Here and now,
I make a vow,
To piss on Christ’s parade.
So hilt thy fangs,
Thy hunger pangs,
Will end ere evening fades.
In midnight mist,
The throats we’ve kissed,
Now bare The Devil’s mark.
Ravenous thou shalt arise and swear allegiance to the dark.
Famished Thule,
I am the ghoul.
All souls in Sheol thronged.
Azriel and they who fell.
An omen guised as song.
Soft craned necks before us here.
With vulpine eyes the gorgon stares,
To set thy hearts a freeze.
The world shall grovel on its knees.
Centuries of dusk and gloom,
Are a yawning maw stretched to consume.
Arise now my beloved Lilith, make thy presence known.
An eternity it has been since thou sat atop thy throne.
Glutted shall we be on the rife resplendent gore.
A utopia of undeath crafted by the predators.
Beyond the grasp of God on high, not made of Adam’s dust.
The death we bring in savage droves will never reach for us.
In the shadows of thy dreams,
Cast out to myth (or so it seems)
The monsters slowly taking flight,
Emerging in the worlds of light.,
Through ancient rites of sex and death evoke our lady of the damned.
Orgasmic throes, from catholic woes fulfill the pagan queen’s
demands.
A moment’s courage then its passed,
Thy suffering is at its last.
No fear, nor pain, or mortal toil,
But a cold rebirth in cemetery soil.
Conceived In Cemetery Soil.
A pleasure sublime,
When my dead lips meet thine,
Like tumbling through a bottomless rift.
Unholy rites,
On infinite nights,
Performed by the giver of clandestine gifts.
“Always remember that The Devil’s greatest trick was to convince
the world that he did not exsist…”
