1. |
A Forest Journey
07:48
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A one-way admission in your hands
About two minutes to make a decision of relatively little importance
Milestones of Extinction, Silent and impatient, choked by Solomon’s Seal and the False Lilly of the Valley
Where even the Earth rejects its roots
Spewing up past lives, cannibalized for New and Strange Necessity
In a spectral forest: A fevered rhizome beneath a force charnel house
Ruled by Sextons of the Black See
That tower above with moss-covered limbs
Sticky with resin and blood to provoke a standing reserve
Steadfast in Fascination.
Jukai and the rhythm of pain
Burrowed deeper, the parasitic brain
Ritual established; heritage maintained
Once the Rites have been observed, there’s no walking out again.
Strangled
And the tents go on forever
There are many forests to keep a body safe
In quadrants and compartments of forgotten vales
There’s real country dark in the shadow of the Peak.
The Great Gloom swallowing
Those refused by the Sun
Their endless wandering
Whispers “Fallen: undone”
- Oh my Gosh! –
Half devoured, the cold hand of Necessity pushing forward
While Venus burning overhead gazes on, a most violent giver of beauty
Who forgives no one nothing, without having a past
A false imprint of a death spiral in granite lay
The gyrations of lust in a worn typeface are dispatched and extinguished.
On the Right, tied up with Guilt, another white flag
Lies lifeless in a splinter of daylight
This is the Horizon of the Athlete
Where bodies come and go: between and becoming
For the Silence of the Trees.
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2. |
Fourth
12:14
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Life teaches, “You do what you can, and suffer what you must”
The only thing assured in the Enframement is transgressive obsolescence
An advent at hand, the Artifice envelopes, clearing in words
To posses and Desire; proscribed in fire
Then dissolved in absolution.
A drowning child
Worlds exist to perpetuate themselves
They raze a causeway to Tyre; reach beyond towards nothing
And do it again.
And the Morningstar of Concentration pronounced, again,
“I got greedy arms, and I’m superstitious, always”
Life, unworthy of life supplicating smoke through stained glass
Fascinated, with its face caved in
And the other forms of paraphernalia
Things don’t die; they break
And their sinews of limbs, transfixed and whining for “Presence”
In the Celebration.
Entombed with care
And thrashed against
The Endless Wall of Traditions.
The spasm of decay
Transgresses the body exalted
By the moss and mould of Repetition.
The Pulse subsumed by deeds
Reproduced delights
In wanton abject Immoderation.
How soon until Death?
Presumed taken and processed
By The Machine of Attrition.
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3. |
Midnight to Six
02:25
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Take up the old lost cause
Again, for the Herostratic name
But the moment’s gone; the Event is missed
No action from the crippled wrist
The steeplechase that’s all in vain
You’re all the same
He said directly to you
As your failures start to mount high
Lessons that you thought you learned
The money spent not earned
Moments missed like all in time
It’s what you do.
Run headlong down hill, thrown out any better plans
Fail again, fail better; go home with empty hands
Run headlong down hill, gave up any will to change.
Situations arise; in the end you do the same.
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4. |
Buckets
05:07
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I drag you down; you pull me up, an exchange of fire surge through the blood
In the Dying Day, like the setting sun, extinguished Desire drowned in the flood
I’ve seen you lose yourself, and feel no different; I’ve sensed you sense yourself, and feel the same
Excite the flashpoint in the difference, cultivate the lack of gain
It’s what it means to be autonomous, with doubt and shame.
Buckets – this time it’s kicked
Buckets – resigned and fixed.
Misery is Manifest; wretchedness is multifold
I’m treading water in black tar undertow
Backwater in the Downs, collapse the lung, and it drowns
A breath of air; a gulp of water – another thoughtless prayer
Buckets – this time it’s kicked
Buckets – resigned and fixed.
Pulled inside out and fall
That’s the beauty of it
This is the price of fear
And everyone is by-and-in.
Breath
Dilate
This is the price of fear
And everyone is by-and-in.
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5. |
Crystal Summit
08:26
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I’ve seen the altar grief
Burned out in the pallor of disbelief
Death-fires dance and glow
Flicker in the pass, through wind and snow
I’ve fallen down to the ground; a secret ministry that moans and cries like a choir
Swept up in apotheosis; a procession all under the Banner of Saturn.
And you can’t turn back; it’s never up
Because the trail runs blind: meandering, disfigured.
I’ve never heard tell, of such a Penrose Mount forlorn,
Where ten-thousand shattered, deformed horizons burn
Relinquished Desire: Axis of Extinction turns
The fevering, the bone ground down
Macerated, Incandescent urns.
And painted slate-black, Fate, stunned yawns
With the pale promise of the descent, fades, new dawns
And the cold atrophied bodies, who were guides, Unburdened by their lives
Wandering, sing
From the firmament, one-by-one, crippled testaments…
Fallen, Frozen, Landmarks: Libations to the Summit.
Plunged into the numbing torchlight
The Resolute Apostle enthralled
To witness unforgotten torment
And breath deep the Martyrs’ awn
Dispatched the paraphernalia; both vicar and victim are those who gaze long
Where Descent and Ascent are self-same: throw the thoughts out, and a World withdraws.
To peer no further
The needle touches
The praying prophets outstretched and inscribed
Demanded penance, from Butchers’ hands
Unburdened by Humiliation
A Maze of eyes
Frozen alive
A myriad of Rats in the night sky
Mutilated, bodies are seething
All in flames, kowtow to the Khrystal.
I’m holding court, with the Other creatures
Burned in effigy to the Other gods.
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