Spectral Wound
Infernal Decadence
1. Woods from Which the Spirits Once So Loudly Howled
The devil’s eye, prised, excised, burned from the skulls of witches
Woods from which once the spirits so loudly howled
The work is done by spiel and apparatus
But God is silent, while people chatter
Conjurer – VNVNHVX
Make of me a weapon, make me a vessel of proof
One by one we go into the dark
The movement itself is the only truth
Before the light, before law, the carnal drama unfolds
Beneath the gaze, the scalpel speaks what the body withholds
Witch war!
The world unwound by spiel and apparatus
But Nature is silent, while people chatter.
2. Black Satanic Glamour
This inspired witchery, it speaks in tongues
Of cryptic longing, A riddled offering
I made the dark descent.
The moon was visible amidst scattered, pale-edged clouds
The cold blue sea beckons
The sky is the throne of fear
I am part of this darkness
I am part of this void
This cryptic, witching grammar
This Black Satanic Glamour
I made the dark descent
Through which the fear of any and every thing
Awakens into self knowledge
I am part of this darkness
This Black Satanic Glamour
This inspired witchery
It speaks in tongues too old to know
Giving form, bringing forth
This Black Satanic Glamour
This black celebration
3. Slaughter of the Medusa
Conquering hero, bastard son of gods
Furtive behind your mirror
Stalking dread cthonic visions
But you dare not meet their gaze
Trust not the mirror but the mask
An aspect ne'er beheld,
Beheaded all the same
In shadows,
Medusa, O gorgon, O sun
In poison flown from her opened gorge
A scarlet plane of immanence
One thousand flowers bloom
Did you wonder not what torrent forced its deluge here?
By what brutal rite the sea defiled?
To what end, this venom blessed
These tresses serpentine?
By what violence forged
These locks that curl and writhe?
By what wry hex this sisterhood aligned?
Let us labrys-crack the brow of Zeus once more
See what bright horrors issue forth
O monster, Medusa, O gorgon, O sun
4. Feral Gates of Flesh
My father, change my name
The one I’ve used til now is covered with fear and filth and cowardice and shame
I, mangled not by the maw, but by the slip,
The cunning writhe by which the jaws were prised
O, the gulf that lies
Between the sign of man
And this feral fire
I know the howl, I know the hound
Fleeing from the trap, into the hunter’s jaws
It comes for me, hunting
Over moors
Though thorn and gorse
Feral footsteps fall
Like a summons to all my foolish blood
It’s coming through the trees
Across the gulf that lies
Betwixt, between the sign of man
And this feral fire
Over chasm’d distance it comes for me
Over moors
Through thorn and gorse
Feral footsteps fall
You are the scent I follow always
Hunting after God
5. La nuit froide de l'oubli
Into forests boreal, Abies balsamea
Seeking meaning, finding nothing but a frozen reflection
A tyrant restored to the throne, ringed by his mewling sons
Pater Dominis, cling to the hem of his robe
What succour do you hope awaits in the mountains dark and cold?
The comforting embrace of divinities of old?
Embattled - So fragile
New skin for old ritual
Into forests boreal
beyond the Taiga shield
Plutôt la nature morte…
Dans la nuit froide de l'oubli
6. Imperial Thanatosis
Echoed words once misheard
Yet poignant all the same
Legions marching onward singing:
“Let an impure blood flow in our veins!”
Let this be our cry,
Herald our dark desires
Tremble, before the rising tide
Tremble, this is your falling night:
Half devil, half child
You would presume to build this man of blood and soil,
But deny the tangled matter of edaphon and flesh?
Deny the tangled matter on which it rests?
Numberless like the sands of the sea,
To wash away this whited sepulchre, this sanguine myth
Embrace your final thanatotic bliss
Embrace your end.
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