Christmas Eve 2008. My daughter's a year and 8 days old. My marriage is nearly 3 years old. Life is very different than anything I would have envisioned 5 years ago and yet, somehow, it's very much the same.
Other than the joy of the children and the look of amazement on their faces at the sight of gifts 'neath the xmas tree the date matters little to me in today's context. The end of the roman year does, however, bring the oft dreaded yet much necessary introspection and retrospection that can only be endured by those long-used to administering self-beatings.
Waste your life complaining and pretty soon you'll have done nothing at all and you find yourself standing at death's door. I'd like to think things get better on their own but they rarely - if ever - work that way. It's a shitty world, kids, because we humans make it so. I, for one, intend to break the cycle to the extent of my abilities.
Platitudes will get me nowhere, and more often than not they grate on me, but the fact is sometimes they can be quite inspiring. This year I am taking Odin's advice on living to hart. I'll post the things I think apply better to my world at a later time.
With me Mum doing nothing xmas eve (lunch on xmas day, though), the in-laws out of the country (what gall!) and the festive spirit depleted at my homestead - the kids long since sleeping - I feel like having a romp somewhere I'm loved warmly. The fact that I can't think of a single such place makes me wonder if things in my life have become so fucked that there isn't a single place I can go for spiritual and emotional succor. That and the fact that I don't much care about it, well, make me wonder even more. Change is coming somehow, at a personal and not-quite-so-personal level this year; it is an inevitability. The question I ask is: will I be strong enough to weather it and, furthermore, take charge? I better have the minerals, as they say.
Here's a viddy for your listening and viewing pleasure. Dwell upon it and fathom it's manifold meanings... or whatever.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Return to the Wonderful World of getting one’s head pounded on.
It had been a good 7 years since I’d last entered Martial Arts competition of any form. The last tournament I participated in was a Shidokan hybrid rules that heavily favored more traditional Kyokushin style fighters rather than the few of us weened on Mixed Martial Arts at the time. In a last minute development, I got to be on the first fight of the day; the organizers had decided to scrap the underage divisions due to lack of participants and went ahead with the lightweight over 18 matches. I hadn’t even warmed up and was listening to my ancient little Walkman when one of my team mates nudged me and told me they’d just called my name over the PA. Surprised as I was, I wasn’t going to show up late to the match and get disqualified for tardiness, so I hauled ass despite the organization’s lack of communication and made it to the mats.
I’ve always hated going up first when it comes to events such as these. It’s not fear of crowds or anything like that – I’ve been a live performing musician for about a decade and shed any such phobias long ago – but I find difficult to get into the right mindset; it is hard for me to get the engine warmed up when I’m kicking off MA events. Usually someone else will start it off and more often than not one of my team mates would be going up before me, I would then draw from the general energy of the people in the venue as well as that of my mates and get warmed up pretty good. However, when one is up first a person has a great deal of added pressures: your team looks upon you to give the best first impression, the crowd expects the first fight to set the tone for the entire day or night, and to top it all off you’ve got your own expectations to contend with (usually the harshest part of it all). It’s always a difficult thing to manage, the minutes – or seconds - leading up to a fight, but to do so when being the opener for the night is an added stress factor that can often make a fighter come psychologically undone.
So there I was, in the first Shidokan tournament in Costa Rica sans the clinch and the grappling (ergo a kyokushin tourney with a different name). I start the fight cold, just going in straight for the guy the way I’d practiced so many times, problem is this isn’t the type of match I usually practiced for. At the time I was a lanky, somewhat tall lightweight whose striking had never been of the devastating variety but more of the speedy stick and move sort, since Muay Thai was my bread and butter as far as stand up went I relied greatly on using elbow and knees when working somebody inside. This proved to be my undoing as I seemed to basically freeze up; every time I was going to throw an elbow or go for the clinch my mind would remind me that these were no-no’s in this context, which obviously impaired my performance. Add to that the fact that the person I was fighting was an experienced Kyokushin with shins like logs who picked me apart with low kicks to my lead leg; he must have hit me right above the knee a good thirty times, the total count of low kicks to that leg in the vicinity of the number fifty. At the end of the first round I knew I needed to change my approach but my mind was still reeling from the pain in my lead leg, so I looked to the guy at my corner, an old team mate who never really trained with diligence but always was around and was there to help with me while my trainer helped my other team mates (given the sudden turn of events). He could offer me nothing but “hit him more”. Sage advice, indeed! I took that pearl of wisdom with me as the second round started. My lead leg had taken such a beating that I couldn’t trust it to support me for kicks with my back leg, much less to lead-in with it, so I decided to use what little boxing I could use within such a limiting set of rules. My straight punches to the chest, delivered in descending trajectory, found their mark and availed me with some hope for a whole of 10 seconds as the referee told me to stop hitting to the face. In my head I wondered simultaneously if he was on drugs of if his understanding of basic human anatomy was fundamentally different than that of the rest of the world, for how could he be calling me for hitting the guy on the face with my fist when they were clearly landing on my opponent’s chest? I was dumbfounded, uselessly trying to plea through my mouthpiece, knowing full well that it would do no good.
My only remaining weapon taken from me by substandard refereeing, I realized that I couldn’t go on much longer. I took a few more hits to the leg and eventually it buckled under my weight. I tried standing and found it has swollen to such a degree that I was having difficulty just bending it so I could stand in a fighting stance. I threw in the towel, fearing that if I took any more low kicks to the lead leg I might be spending the rest of my life in and out of surgery for my knee and shattered femur. I spent the rest of the day tending to my now unbending left leg while I watched as the guy who beat me won the whole thing.
So now I was standing in a small, dark rock & roll club being told at the last minute that I would be fighting first rather than last in an Amateur Full Contact event with hybrid kickboxing/muay thai rules. I couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the last time I’d competed. My mind started racing for a few moments, but I managed to reign it in.
Gloves come on, off comes the shirt and on comes the head-gear. I warm up for a good ten minutes or so and force my mind into keeping cool and focused. I see my opponent warming up a few yards away and try to size him up. He’s shorter but strong-looking; he’s built and might be a handful physically speaking. I shoot glances at him now and then while I throw slow combinations to loosen up. He avoids my gaze every time our eyes lock. I don’t make much of it at the time but in hindsight it may have been that he was somewhat intimidated by me. I continue to look at the man now and then so as to get the idea of him being the target in front of me when the action starts. We’re summoned to the mats, I take my corner and continue to loosen up, trying to keep my cool and focus on the man across from me. They announce my name and my affiliation, which is greeted with loud cheers from the audience, something I did not expect, it surprises me for a fraction of a second as my mind quickly dismisses it in favor of staying on the subject of the imminent dance. The man across me moves a lot for a man about to fight, but that’s just my mind drawing early conclusions about his attitude; he might be nervous, he might be using a little too much energy to warm up, he might be a superhuman specimen that will kick my ass.
The ref is a San Shou expert, or so it’s said over the PA. Looking back I seriously doubt the man ever refereed a full contact match in his life. I tell myself I’m going punish this guy for every hit he gives me; every little tag will have dire consequences. The fight starts, we touch gloves - something that always unnerves me due to the proneness of some fighters to take cheap shots at you when doing this age-old salute – and we begin to circle each other, my brain stops actively thinking and goes into the reptilian state of mind: nothing but instinct and cold, minimal, split second decision making at a seemingly unconscious level, the rest of the world a blur just beyond the edge of my peripheral vision.
What happens afterwards is a very subjective recollection of what transpired, as my brain wasn’t recording on the level of the conscious mind but rather storing everything at a deeper level whereupon it might be drawn from in the future should it be required. I remember thinking my opponent’s kicks weren’t hard at all. I recall getting knocked down from a hit to the head then taking my time getting up for the ten -count, the hit burst both my lower and upper lips on the left side. I remember thinking something along of “what the fuck!? I can’t be done already!” and getting up while assessing if I was too dizzy to continue. Truth be told I was a little rocked but I decided that if I was going to lose I might as well get knocked out cold because I wasn’t about to quit.
Back into the fray, I remember using a few low kicks, wondering just how much damage I was doing to him, then jabbing a little. I recall retreating while countering and him going down. I remember getting stopped for some reason then starting back again and knocking him down with a jab-straight combo. I remember a spin backfist followed by a straight that knocked him down as well. A blocked attempt at a roundhouse. Knocking him down some more. Getting caught on the jaw, right on the right beneath the ear and falling hard, wondering if the pain in my upper molars meant they had been cracked or knocked out of the gums, taking my time to get up, using up the ten-count intelligently, then going back at it, taking it to the guy. I remember trying to look fresh despite the fact that I didn’t feel all that fresh, thinking that I better up my already grueling conditioning workouts some more. In the end I was victorious as my opponent could continue no longer.
I remember feeling a mixture of relief and elation at the fact that I won. I remember feeling that I needed to improve much, much more.
Now that I have seen the video footage of my fight a couple of times I can see the mistakes I knew I made confirmed and some I didn’t intue revealed. I need to improve my footwork a great deal, especially when cutting angles to avoid and retreat. I must remember to keep my head low when retreating as well. I must exploit openings with much more severity. I must improve my pacing and head movement.
I also noticed that the first time I got knocked down it wasn’t because of the punch itself, but of the roundhouse that swiftly follow it. The reason it hit me square on the head was because I reeled rather than rolled from the punch to the kisser and exposed myself horrible. I do feel proud about getting up from that for I have seen many a fighter stay down from such a hit as a roundhouse kick. I have done this to people myself! The second time it was a bit of a lucky shot for the guy. I originally thought it must have been a looping cross of some sort, but it was more akin to a push-punch step that squeezed through my guard, which I have to work on with diligence as well. I also realize that I did better in certain aspects than I gave myself credit for, so it isn’t all too self-critical in the end, I do have positive aspects as a fighter.
After having removed myself from competitive martial arts due to the realities of life, while not leaving the martial arts all together, I deem I have staged a moderately pleasing comeback, one that indicates, in my eyes, that I must still improve greatly and that can only come as the product of superhuman effort and discipline. I now know that I am capable of more than I thought and that I haven’t entirely lost my abilities. I have to fight again in a couple of weeks and must mend a thumb that might be slightly fissured and improve as much as I can on the above mentioned areas of my fighting before that. A test in life is always rewarded by even further testing, for joy is to be derived from the performing of these trials rather than the payoff, for reveling in the payoff brings complacency and self-conceit.
I’ve always hated going up first when it comes to events such as these. It’s not fear of crowds or anything like that – I’ve been a live performing musician for about a decade and shed any such phobias long ago – but I find difficult to get into the right mindset; it is hard for me to get the engine warmed up when I’m kicking off MA events. Usually someone else will start it off and more often than not one of my team mates would be going up before me, I would then draw from the general energy of the people in the venue as well as that of my mates and get warmed up pretty good. However, when one is up first a person has a great deal of added pressures: your team looks upon you to give the best first impression, the crowd expects the first fight to set the tone for the entire day or night, and to top it all off you’ve got your own expectations to contend with (usually the harshest part of it all). It’s always a difficult thing to manage, the minutes – or seconds - leading up to a fight, but to do so when being the opener for the night is an added stress factor that can often make a fighter come psychologically undone.
So there I was, in the first Shidokan tournament in Costa Rica sans the clinch and the grappling (ergo a kyokushin tourney with a different name). I start the fight cold, just going in straight for the guy the way I’d practiced so many times, problem is this isn’t the type of match I usually practiced for. At the time I was a lanky, somewhat tall lightweight whose striking had never been of the devastating variety but more of the speedy stick and move sort, since Muay Thai was my bread and butter as far as stand up went I relied greatly on using elbow and knees when working somebody inside. This proved to be my undoing as I seemed to basically freeze up; every time I was going to throw an elbow or go for the clinch my mind would remind me that these were no-no’s in this context, which obviously impaired my performance. Add to that the fact that the person I was fighting was an experienced Kyokushin with shins like logs who picked me apart with low kicks to my lead leg; he must have hit me right above the knee a good thirty times, the total count of low kicks to that leg in the vicinity of the number fifty. At the end of the first round I knew I needed to change my approach but my mind was still reeling from the pain in my lead leg, so I looked to the guy at my corner, an old team mate who never really trained with diligence but always was around and was there to help with me while my trainer helped my other team mates (given the sudden turn of events). He could offer me nothing but “hit him more”. Sage advice, indeed! I took that pearl of wisdom with me as the second round started. My lead leg had taken such a beating that I couldn’t trust it to support me for kicks with my back leg, much less to lead-in with it, so I decided to use what little boxing I could use within such a limiting set of rules. My straight punches to the chest, delivered in descending trajectory, found their mark and availed me with some hope for a whole of 10 seconds as the referee told me to stop hitting to the face. In my head I wondered simultaneously if he was on drugs of if his understanding of basic human anatomy was fundamentally different than that of the rest of the world, for how could he be calling me for hitting the guy on the face with my fist when they were clearly landing on my opponent’s chest? I was dumbfounded, uselessly trying to plea through my mouthpiece, knowing full well that it would do no good.
My only remaining weapon taken from me by substandard refereeing, I realized that I couldn’t go on much longer. I took a few more hits to the leg and eventually it buckled under my weight. I tried standing and found it has swollen to such a degree that I was having difficulty just bending it so I could stand in a fighting stance. I threw in the towel, fearing that if I took any more low kicks to the lead leg I might be spending the rest of my life in and out of surgery for my knee and shattered femur. I spent the rest of the day tending to my now unbending left leg while I watched as the guy who beat me won the whole thing.
So now I was standing in a small, dark rock & roll club being told at the last minute that I would be fighting first rather than last in an Amateur Full Contact event with hybrid kickboxing/muay thai rules. I couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the last time I’d competed. My mind started racing for a few moments, but I managed to reign it in.
Gloves come on, off comes the shirt and on comes the head-gear. I warm up for a good ten minutes or so and force my mind into keeping cool and focused. I see my opponent warming up a few yards away and try to size him up. He’s shorter but strong-looking; he’s built and might be a handful physically speaking. I shoot glances at him now and then while I throw slow combinations to loosen up. He avoids my gaze every time our eyes lock. I don’t make much of it at the time but in hindsight it may have been that he was somewhat intimidated by me. I continue to look at the man now and then so as to get the idea of him being the target in front of me when the action starts. We’re summoned to the mats, I take my corner and continue to loosen up, trying to keep my cool and focus on the man across from me. They announce my name and my affiliation, which is greeted with loud cheers from the audience, something I did not expect, it surprises me for a fraction of a second as my mind quickly dismisses it in favor of staying on the subject of the imminent dance. The man across me moves a lot for a man about to fight, but that’s just my mind drawing early conclusions about his attitude; he might be nervous, he might be using a little too much energy to warm up, he might be a superhuman specimen that will kick my ass.
The ref is a San Shou expert, or so it’s said over the PA. Looking back I seriously doubt the man ever refereed a full contact match in his life. I tell myself I’m going punish this guy for every hit he gives me; every little tag will have dire consequences. The fight starts, we touch gloves - something that always unnerves me due to the proneness of some fighters to take cheap shots at you when doing this age-old salute – and we begin to circle each other, my brain stops actively thinking and goes into the reptilian state of mind: nothing but instinct and cold, minimal, split second decision making at a seemingly unconscious level, the rest of the world a blur just beyond the edge of my peripheral vision.
What happens afterwards is a very subjective recollection of what transpired, as my brain wasn’t recording on the level of the conscious mind but rather storing everything at a deeper level whereupon it might be drawn from in the future should it be required. I remember thinking my opponent’s kicks weren’t hard at all. I recall getting knocked down from a hit to the head then taking my time getting up for the ten -count, the hit burst both my lower and upper lips on the left side. I remember thinking something along of “what the fuck!? I can’t be done already!” and getting up while assessing if I was too dizzy to continue. Truth be told I was a little rocked but I decided that if I was going to lose I might as well get knocked out cold because I wasn’t about to quit.
Back into the fray, I remember using a few low kicks, wondering just how much damage I was doing to him, then jabbing a little. I recall retreating while countering and him going down. I remember getting stopped for some reason then starting back again and knocking him down with a jab-straight combo. I remember a spin backfist followed by a straight that knocked him down as well. A blocked attempt at a roundhouse. Knocking him down some more. Getting caught on the jaw, right on the right beneath the ear and falling hard, wondering if the pain in my upper molars meant they had been cracked or knocked out of the gums, taking my time to get up, using up the ten-count intelligently, then going back at it, taking it to the guy. I remember trying to look fresh despite the fact that I didn’t feel all that fresh, thinking that I better up my already grueling conditioning workouts some more. In the end I was victorious as my opponent could continue no longer.
I remember feeling a mixture of relief and elation at the fact that I won. I remember feeling that I needed to improve much, much more.
Now that I have seen the video footage of my fight a couple of times I can see the mistakes I knew I made confirmed and some I didn’t intue revealed. I need to improve my footwork a great deal, especially when cutting angles to avoid and retreat. I must remember to keep my head low when retreating as well. I must exploit openings with much more severity. I must improve my pacing and head movement.
I also noticed that the first time I got knocked down it wasn’t because of the punch itself, but of the roundhouse that swiftly follow it. The reason it hit me square on the head was because I reeled rather than rolled from the punch to the kisser and exposed myself horrible. I do feel proud about getting up from that for I have seen many a fighter stay down from such a hit as a roundhouse kick. I have done this to people myself! The second time it was a bit of a lucky shot for the guy. I originally thought it must have been a looping cross of some sort, but it was more akin to a push-punch step that squeezed through my guard, which I have to work on with diligence as well. I also realize that I did better in certain aspects than I gave myself credit for, so it isn’t all too self-critical in the end, I do have positive aspects as a fighter.
After having removed myself from competitive martial arts due to the realities of life, while not leaving the martial arts all together, I deem I have staged a moderately pleasing comeback, one that indicates, in my eyes, that I must still improve greatly and that can only come as the product of superhuman effort and discipline. I now know that I am capable of more than I thought and that I haven’t entirely lost my abilities. I have to fight again in a couple of weeks and must mend a thumb that might be slightly fissured and improve as much as I can on the above mentioned areas of my fighting before that. A test in life is always rewarded by even further testing, for joy is to be derived from the performing of these trials rather than the payoff, for reveling in the payoff brings complacency and self-conceit.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Incoherence Geri
As worms to flesh gravely
Lush visages tease the head
Edges cutting bark and root
Sightless vision impaired
Water poured in lieu of bread
Meat of goddesses un-bed
Lick the marrow of the fates
The river flows anew
Inching ever closer, dread
Damage must be done
Ailing muses long had fled
A darkling now defuses
Righted wrongs cause further ripples
Mirrored surfaces decline
Offspring on a platform brittle
Flowers bleeding colors lively
Sunken hopes resurface nightly
Arrowhead of knighthood dead
Limping hound has found a morsel
Toxic dreams where faeries wed
Into darker realms of soulscape
Lingering doubts and guilts amass
Throw down garments of subjugation
Cast off ruminating head
Last of unique situations
Rim's edge reached for parties swollen
Lest the norns partake of mead
Seek the path of those befallen
Anger drained, a bear shirt shorn
Wolf brother howling in the night
Routed hunger sent fasting
The hunt will resume under the light
No clandestine machinations wrought
In days of pulcrity the die is cast
One-eyed wisdom calls for caution
Hammer wielder action favors
Mind at toil with cold fervor
Long the priesthood must deliberate
Ice does not thaw quick in darkness
Sun lies hidden beyond the horizon
Lush visages tease the head
Edges cutting bark and root
Sightless vision impaired
Water poured in lieu of bread
Meat of goddesses un-bed
Lick the marrow of the fates
The river flows anew
Inching ever closer, dread
Damage must be done
Ailing muses long had fled
A darkling now defuses
Righted wrongs cause further ripples
Mirrored surfaces decline
Offspring on a platform brittle
Flowers bleeding colors lively
Sunken hopes resurface nightly
Arrowhead of knighthood dead
Limping hound has found a morsel
Toxic dreams where faeries wed
Into darker realms of soulscape
Lingering doubts and guilts amass
Throw down garments of subjugation
Cast off ruminating head
Last of unique situations
Rim's edge reached for parties swollen
Lest the norns partake of mead
Seek the path of those befallen
Anger drained, a bear shirt shorn
Wolf brother howling in the night
Routed hunger sent fasting
The hunt will resume under the light
No clandestine machinations wrought
In days of pulcrity the die is cast
One-eyed wisdom calls for caution
Hammer wielder action favors
Mind at toil with cold fervor
Long the priesthood must deliberate
Ice does not thaw quick in darkness
Sun lies hidden beyond the horizon
Monday, March 03, 2008
My lyrics as intended for DCW but no more
Here's most of the lyrics that would have been on DCW's upcoming EP releases that, due to my exit from the band, are no longer legally to appear on them or to be used in the songs at all.
“ANAMNESIS”
IN A WAKING DREAM
GRASPING ALL THE UNSEEN
UNDER MY MERE GAZE
ALL CREATION ABLAZE
CHORUS:
DEATH TO HUMANITY
DEATH TO DIVINITY
DEATH TO ALL TYRANNIES UNDER THE FLAG OF CIVILIZATION
DEATH TO WAR-MONGERING
DEATH TO SERVILITY
DEATH TO PATHOCRACIES DRIVING THE WORLD TO ANNIHILATION
IT IS THE PATH TO PERFECTION
THROUGH THE MOTIONS OF EXTINCTION
ALL MY PASTS, I’VE SEEN
PEARLS OF WISDOM GLEENED
ALL THE SPHERES ARE TUNED
SOUNDING CERTAIN DOOM
I MUST EAT OF MY FLESH AND DIGEST THE PAST
DEVOUR THE FLESH
DIGEST THE PAST
OUR TIME HERE MUST NOW END SO BALANCE MAY LAST
OUR LIVES MUST END
SO PEACE MAY LAST
LO! THE PIPER, HE CALLS. THE PYRE BURNS BRIGHT
THE PIPER CALLS
HE’S BURNING BRIGHT
IT IS THE PATH TO PERFECTION
THROUGH THE MOTIONS OF EXTINCTION
CHORUS…
THE END OF HUMANITY IS PERFECTION.
“ANGUIS IN HERBA”
SIGHT FAILS MIGHT
TORN BY TIDES
SEAFOAM STAIN
GILDED HIDE
KELOID GROUND
SEPTIC SKIES
CHORUS 1:
GANGLIA SWOLLEN WITH RANK AGENTS
FLORA STRICKEN. RISE EJECTA
AMBLE IDLY IN THE COLD RAIN
RUPTURED MEMBRANE OF AFFECTION
SUTURE QUICK THE DANK INFECTION
VERTIGINOUS CONFLAGRATION
REMNANTS OF A CAROTID TIME
MIND INVADED BY ITS VENOM
DIODE-LIKE WAY TO THE CENTRUM
CHORUS 2:
DENY THE DECAY
DENY THE BLEEDING
ABLAZE, MY INNARDS
ESCONCED, THE POISON
DENY THE TORMENT
DENY THE MISTRUST
HOLLOW IS MY CHEST
IT HEAVES IN UNREST
DENY THE SILENCE
DENY THE SADNESS
THE WELL HAS RUN DRY
THE BURN; THE BILE FLIES
CHORUS 1…
GREY, SLOWLY THE LIFE BURNS AWAY
DECAY UNDERTAKING FLESH IN ITS WAKE
FADE INTO THE BED OF THE EARTH
TAKE THE ROT INSIDE
LEAVE THE TRAPPINGS OF TRUST
SLITHERING BELOW
LIKE THE TEMPTER OF OLD
SINK BENEATH THE WAVES
OF THE ILLNESS NOW THRUST
(AT THE) GATES DEFILED. BEHOLD
NOXIOUS VAPORS IN THRALL
CHORUS 2…
“MADE MY STEAD IN DARKNESS”
BEDAMNED THE SOIL I WALK
THE ROTTEN CARCASS OF EARTH
WITH HEAD HUNG LOW THEY ALL LURCH
MYOPIC DREAMERS GO FORTH
FORLORN AND PINING NO MORE
FUTILE ENDEAVORS ARE CEASED
IN SEEKING TRUTH I HAVE LOST
THE ZEAL OF STRIVING FOR PEACE
WITH HEAD HELD HIGH I NOW MARCH
REGARDLESS OF THE GODS’ WRATH
CHORUS:
I’VE MADE MY PEACE WITH PAIN
I’VE MADE MY PEACE WITH SIN
I’VE MADE DARKNESS MY OWN
I’VE MADE DARKNESS MY HOME
NO MORE I SEEK THE DIVINE
PROSELITISM I SCORN
THE BLISTER FESTERES IN TIME
THE SPINELESS MASSES JUST MOURN
FAITHLESS, THE CHURCH HAS NO SPINE
RAPISTS AND MURDERERS, GOAT-SWORN!
CHORUS…
EMBRACE THE ROLLING CHAOS
FOLLOW THE WANDERER’S ROUGH PATH
SWALLOW THE BITTEREST PILL
CONSCIOUSNESS, THE WINE IS SPILLED
WITH HEAD HIGH YOU AND I WALK
REGARDLESS OF THE GOAT’S WRATH
“THE KINGDOM OF SELF”
ALL OF THE THINGS WE HAVE MADE TURN TO ASHES
(WE) DIE EVERYDAY. WASTE AWAY… TO OBLIVION
(WE) FALL PREY TO PAIN AND DISMAY FILLS OUR BLEAK HEARTS
I SEEK TO RISE, BREAK THROUGH SUBJUGATION
SCORN PROMISES, LIVE THROUGH HATE INTO CLEAR SIGHT
TREAD SUBTLE WAVES, THOUGHTS AFLAME, SELF-AWARENESS
MAKE WAY! NEW SOUL TODAY!
MAKE WAY! YOUR STRENGTH MUST NEVER WANE!
CHORUS:
MAKE YOUR STAND! YOU’RE DEADER EVERY DAY
BREAK AWAY! GO ON AND MAKE YOUR STAND
SHED THE PAIN LIKE SO MUCH DEAD SKIN
STRENGTH WITHIN. ONE CAN SURVIVE THE STRAIN.
(HEY)
RISE! HOWL IN RAGE AT THE WORLD, BRING IT ALL DOWN
LIVE! OVERCOME! FOCUS NOW, MAKE IT ALL COUNT
BLEED FOR YOUR DREAMS, SACRIFICE FOR TOMORROW
TAKE (YOUR) WEAKNESSES, MAKE THEM SHARP LIKE A SWITCHBLADE
CHORUS…
(HEY)
LAST LINE TO GET RID OF THE PAIN
LAST TIME I FALL PREY TO DISDAIN
NO MORE TIME TO MEDITATE
THIS IS THE TIME TO PROLIFERATE
“THE VOICE OF ATTRITION”
I WILL POISON EVERY CHILD’S MIND; POUR VENOM IN THEIR EARS
AND GRANT SIGHT TO THE IGNORANT AND BLIND.
IN EVERY CHILD A POTENTIAL MURDERER
THE MARK OF CAIN IS OUR DAILY FODDER
THIEF OF WARMTH, YOU WHO RAPES AND SO SIRES
THE SEED OF PAIN IN THESE FAITHLESS MYRES
SPINELESS MONGREL, ‘TIS YOUR VILE REFLECTION
THE WEIGHT OF YOUR SINS IN MY INFLECTIONS
CHORUS:
IN THE PYRE SEEK MY FIRE FEEL MY DIRE NEED TO BREAK YOUR SPINE
IN MY INSIDES DEVIANT DESIGNS, THERE THEY RESIDE, FOR YOU RELEASED
MY HATE UNLEASHED, YOUR SOUL BEREAVED. YOUR HIDE IS BLEACHED BY BLOODY FISTS
YOU ARE A CIST, A STREAM OF PISS. COME HITHER PIG, I’LL MAKE YOU BLEED
I WILL NOT PURGE ANY OF THEIR SINS
BUT WHEN THEY ARE TRULY BROKEN, THEN THEY SHALL SEE.
COME MEET YOUR FATE
I’LL TAKE YOU TO HELL
COME, STATE YOUR CRIMES
SEEK THE ARMS OF DEATH TONIGHT
BY WHAT YOU’VE PERPETRATED
SO SHALL I MAIM YOU
SWINE, DWELL IN YOUR OWN FILTH
IT IS I WHO CLAIMS YOU.
FOR EVERY WOMAN AND CHILD DEFILED
I NOW AVOW TO FEED TO THE FIRE
OF SHARP REVENGE AND OF RETRIBUTION
THE COWARD BRUTE WHO WOULD SEEK SECLUSION
COME FACE ME, SCUM, DANCE WITHIN THE CIRCLE
WHERE BONES SHALL BREAK, FOOL. DOES YOUR BLOOD CURDLE?
CHORUS…
DEATH IS SLOW FOR YOU. MY HATE WILL SEE YOU THROUGH.
PLEAD TO EMPTY SKIES AS YOUR BODY DIES.
CHORUS B
BLEED, STUCK PIG! CRY, YOU RANK CUNT!
COME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! BLEED. DIE, SLUG!
BLEEDING HEARTS: CAUTERIZE YOUR WOUNDS AND SHUT YOUR PETTY MOUTHS.
I JUDGE AS I SEE FIT, LET THE GODS SORT ME OUT.
THE WORLD IS MADE OF FIRE
LIFE IS CHANGE
LIFE IS STRANGE
LIFE IS PAIN
BREATHING FATE
ROILING STATE
TRI-OCULAR STRAIN
STUNTED BRAINS
ONE-TIERED PLANES
ENDLESS RANGE
THOUGHTS COMING AT THE EYE
FATE TRICKLES INSIDE, I SEE TIME CRAWLING
LIGHT FLICKERS IN THE NIGHT
OH, SUCH WICKEDNESS IT BELIES, IT MAKES THE STORM SING
TREAD HEAVY ON THE TIDE; NEVERMIND THE AEONS CALLING
PAIN MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE
IGNITING FROM WITHIN
SLAVES TO FORCES UNSEEN
BELIEVING LIES UPON LIES
SHED THESE TRAPPINGS OF SHAME
THOUGHTS COMING AT THE EYE
FATE TRICKLES INSIDE, I SEE TIME CRAWLING
LIGHT FLICKERS IN THE NIGHT
OH, SUCH WICKEDNESS IT BELIES, IT MAKES THE STORM SING
TREAD HEAVY ON THE TIDE; NEVERMIND THE AEONS CALLING
PAIN MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE
HATE IS SANE
SAINTHOOD’S STAIN
LIES IN-VEIN
BEGGAR’S BANE
KING’S ARCANE
KNOTS OF FAME
RUPTURED FRAME
SLITHERING DAME
A COSMOS INSANE
LURID LIVES, LURID DAYS
OCEANS DRY IN YOUR SWAY
ONANIST FERAL WAY
LITTLE WEBS BURNING TIES
IN THE SEAMS OF YOUR LIES
WE RECITE TO DERIDE
EAGER PATH TO THE HOARD
SPLIT THE TITHE OF YOUR LORD
LITTLE LIVES TO AFFORD THIS CHARADE OF ERSTWHILE
FLACCID LIES, FLACID LIVES
WORTHELESS SPECK IN THE MIND
FLACCID LIES, FLACID LIVES
RISE AGAIN TO THE CALL
MAGMA CHURNS IN YOUR CORE
RISE AGAIN TO THE CALL
NATURE’S FORCE IS THE LAW
BEAT YOUR FISTS, BEAT’EM RAW
NATURE’S FORCE IS YOUR LAW
FIRE CALLS; REASON DIES
IN THE PIT OF YOUR MIND
SOAR ABLAZE IN THE SKY
(X2)
AH, WE ARE NO MORE THAN DUST AND BREATH AND FALTERING THOUGHT
SO WEEPING EVERMORE THE FILTH IS WASHED AWAY
SORE, BLEEDING EVERMORE FOR GLORE, FOR DEATH
DREAM-WROUGHT
LORD OF NONE YET ALL
FIRE, SUCH FIRE CONSUMES ALL THAT LIVES AND BREATHES AND CRAWLS
“THE RAT’S WHISPER”
“SHOULD YOU A RAT TO MADNESS TEASE, WHY E’VN A RAT MAY PLAGUE YOU”
- SAMUEL COLLERIDGE
BEHIND MY EYES YOU’LL FIND THE WILL
TO TAME THE FROTH OF HATE, OF WRATH
CHORUS:
BLOOD OF SAINTS IN MY VEINS
DYING GODS IN THE SKIES
THROUGH MY FLESH HEED THE DEAD
THE ROILING MASS LIKE MELTING GLASS
THEIR PAIN SUBSUMED AND IRE ASSUMED
CHORUS…
ILLUMINATE THE WORLD WITH HATE
NOW RISE TO FATE AND LIFE ABATE
OUT OF MY MIND AND GONE INTO THE VOID
THROUGH DEATH AND BROKEN LINES, OUT OF THE STORM
EVE OF THE CYCLE’S END. WELCOME CATASTROPHE
EARTH’S CRIES TO SILENCE FALL LIKE EMBERS TO THE SEA
CHORUS…
THROUGHOUT THE MASS OF THOUGHT
IS FOUND THE CRACK, THE WEAKNESS
IN MAN’S FUTILE EXISTENCE
THE BANE OF PEACE AND ORDER
RABID, THE HISS, IT CALLS!
IT CALLS!
IT CALLS!
“WHERE GOD AND ANGEL FELL”
FADED, WARPED ANCESTRAL MEMORIES
FEARS ALLAYED; FAITH IN EXTREMIS
BLOATED INEFFECTUAL POINTIFFS
STONED IN MIND AND STRIPPED OF OFFICE
RETARDATION OF THE MASSES
THROUGH THE RITUALS BLIGHTING CLASSES
THE EDGE OF OUR SIGHT
SUCH VISION BELIES THE SECRETS OF A BLIGHTED WORLD
THE SPECTERS OF LIGHT,
THE SHADOWS AT PLAY; WHAT DOES OUR VIEW AVAIL AT ALL?
AND BURROWED WITHIN THE CORE OF OUR BEING
THE WICKED TRUTH REMAINS UNSEEN
THE EFFLUENT STREAM OF PHILOSOPHIES
A TRICKLE OF ABSURDITY
WHAT LITTLE REMAINS OF PIETY AND FAITH
IS WASHED OUT IN A LURID PHASE
WHEN DEATH REACHES FORTH TO PLUCK YOUR RANK YEW
WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL THEN ENSUE?
THROUGH THE PORTALS OF DEMENTIA
SEEK THE DIVINE IN ESSENTIA
IN THE CREVICE OF THE VERSES
LIES THE ROOT OF ALL OUR PURPOSE
CHORUS 1:
VERSUS CHRISTUS
WE’RE THE PROPITIATORS OF DARK BENEDICTION
ANTE BELLUM
GNOSIS IS WITHIN US TO TRANSCEND DAMNATION
WELKIN IS RUMBLING LOUDLY
BELLOWS, THE SEA NOW CHURNING
HEARKEN! THE MADMAN’S LANGUAGE
STAB AT THE LIVER LIVELY
SILENCE THE TONGUE UNBOUND AND
FRACTURE THE WRITER’S TOOL
CHASTISE THE LOWLY PROPHET
CROWNING THE COWARD FOOL
CHORUS 2:
BARK AT THE LIGHT
BAY AT THE NIGHT
HARK AT THE SIGHT
CRY OUT IN FRIGHT
CHORUS 1…
CHORUS 2…
Still two lyrics to come.
“ANAMNESIS”
IN A WAKING DREAM
GRASPING ALL THE UNSEEN
UNDER MY MERE GAZE
ALL CREATION ABLAZE
CHORUS:
DEATH TO HUMANITY
DEATH TO DIVINITY
DEATH TO ALL TYRANNIES UNDER THE FLAG OF CIVILIZATION
DEATH TO WAR-MONGERING
DEATH TO SERVILITY
DEATH TO PATHOCRACIES DRIVING THE WORLD TO ANNIHILATION
IT IS THE PATH TO PERFECTION
THROUGH THE MOTIONS OF EXTINCTION
ALL MY PASTS, I’VE SEEN
PEARLS OF WISDOM GLEENED
ALL THE SPHERES ARE TUNED
SOUNDING CERTAIN DOOM
I MUST EAT OF MY FLESH AND DIGEST THE PAST
DEVOUR THE FLESH
DIGEST THE PAST
OUR TIME HERE MUST NOW END SO BALANCE MAY LAST
OUR LIVES MUST END
SO PEACE MAY LAST
LO! THE PIPER, HE CALLS. THE PYRE BURNS BRIGHT
THE PIPER CALLS
HE’S BURNING BRIGHT
IT IS THE PATH TO PERFECTION
THROUGH THE MOTIONS OF EXTINCTION
CHORUS…
THE END OF HUMANITY IS PERFECTION.
“ANGUIS IN HERBA”
SIGHT FAILS MIGHT
TORN BY TIDES
SEAFOAM STAIN
GILDED HIDE
KELOID GROUND
SEPTIC SKIES
CHORUS 1:
GANGLIA SWOLLEN WITH RANK AGENTS
FLORA STRICKEN. RISE EJECTA
AMBLE IDLY IN THE COLD RAIN
RUPTURED MEMBRANE OF AFFECTION
SUTURE QUICK THE DANK INFECTION
VERTIGINOUS CONFLAGRATION
REMNANTS OF A CAROTID TIME
MIND INVADED BY ITS VENOM
DIODE-LIKE WAY TO THE CENTRUM
CHORUS 2:
DENY THE DECAY
DENY THE BLEEDING
ABLAZE, MY INNARDS
ESCONCED, THE POISON
DENY THE TORMENT
DENY THE MISTRUST
HOLLOW IS MY CHEST
IT HEAVES IN UNREST
DENY THE SILENCE
DENY THE SADNESS
THE WELL HAS RUN DRY
THE BURN; THE BILE FLIES
CHORUS 1…
GREY, SLOWLY THE LIFE BURNS AWAY
DECAY UNDERTAKING FLESH IN ITS WAKE
FADE INTO THE BED OF THE EARTH
TAKE THE ROT INSIDE
LEAVE THE TRAPPINGS OF TRUST
SLITHERING BELOW
LIKE THE TEMPTER OF OLD
SINK BENEATH THE WAVES
OF THE ILLNESS NOW THRUST
(AT THE) GATES DEFILED. BEHOLD
NOXIOUS VAPORS IN THRALL
CHORUS 2…
“MADE MY STEAD IN DARKNESS”
BEDAMNED THE SOIL I WALK
THE ROTTEN CARCASS OF EARTH
WITH HEAD HUNG LOW THEY ALL LURCH
MYOPIC DREAMERS GO FORTH
FORLORN AND PINING NO MORE
FUTILE ENDEAVORS ARE CEASED
IN SEEKING TRUTH I HAVE LOST
THE ZEAL OF STRIVING FOR PEACE
WITH HEAD HELD HIGH I NOW MARCH
REGARDLESS OF THE GODS’ WRATH
CHORUS:
I’VE MADE MY PEACE WITH PAIN
I’VE MADE MY PEACE WITH SIN
I’VE MADE DARKNESS MY OWN
I’VE MADE DARKNESS MY HOME
NO MORE I SEEK THE DIVINE
PROSELITISM I SCORN
THE BLISTER FESTERES IN TIME
THE SPINELESS MASSES JUST MOURN
FAITHLESS, THE CHURCH HAS NO SPINE
RAPISTS AND MURDERERS, GOAT-SWORN!
CHORUS…
EMBRACE THE ROLLING CHAOS
FOLLOW THE WANDERER’S ROUGH PATH
SWALLOW THE BITTEREST PILL
CONSCIOUSNESS, THE WINE IS SPILLED
WITH HEAD HIGH YOU AND I WALK
REGARDLESS OF THE GOAT’S WRATH
“THE KINGDOM OF SELF”
ALL OF THE THINGS WE HAVE MADE TURN TO ASHES
(WE) DIE EVERYDAY. WASTE AWAY… TO OBLIVION
(WE) FALL PREY TO PAIN AND DISMAY FILLS OUR BLEAK HEARTS
I SEEK TO RISE, BREAK THROUGH SUBJUGATION
SCORN PROMISES, LIVE THROUGH HATE INTO CLEAR SIGHT
TREAD SUBTLE WAVES, THOUGHTS AFLAME, SELF-AWARENESS
MAKE WAY! NEW SOUL TODAY!
MAKE WAY! YOUR STRENGTH MUST NEVER WANE!
CHORUS:
MAKE YOUR STAND! YOU’RE DEADER EVERY DAY
BREAK AWAY! GO ON AND MAKE YOUR STAND
SHED THE PAIN LIKE SO MUCH DEAD SKIN
STRENGTH WITHIN. ONE CAN SURVIVE THE STRAIN.
(HEY)
RISE! HOWL IN RAGE AT THE WORLD, BRING IT ALL DOWN
LIVE! OVERCOME! FOCUS NOW, MAKE IT ALL COUNT
BLEED FOR YOUR DREAMS, SACRIFICE FOR TOMORROW
TAKE (YOUR) WEAKNESSES, MAKE THEM SHARP LIKE A SWITCHBLADE
CHORUS…
(HEY)
LAST LINE TO GET RID OF THE PAIN
LAST TIME I FALL PREY TO DISDAIN
NO MORE TIME TO MEDITATE
THIS IS THE TIME TO PROLIFERATE
“THE VOICE OF ATTRITION”
I WILL POISON EVERY CHILD’S MIND; POUR VENOM IN THEIR EARS
AND GRANT SIGHT TO THE IGNORANT AND BLIND.
IN EVERY CHILD A POTENTIAL MURDERER
THE MARK OF CAIN IS OUR DAILY FODDER
THIEF OF WARMTH, YOU WHO RAPES AND SO SIRES
THE SEED OF PAIN IN THESE FAITHLESS MYRES
SPINELESS MONGREL, ‘TIS YOUR VILE REFLECTION
THE WEIGHT OF YOUR SINS IN MY INFLECTIONS
CHORUS:
IN THE PYRE SEEK MY FIRE FEEL MY DIRE NEED TO BREAK YOUR SPINE
IN MY INSIDES DEVIANT DESIGNS, THERE THEY RESIDE, FOR YOU RELEASED
MY HATE UNLEASHED, YOUR SOUL BEREAVED. YOUR HIDE IS BLEACHED BY BLOODY FISTS
YOU ARE A CIST, A STREAM OF PISS. COME HITHER PIG, I’LL MAKE YOU BLEED
I WILL NOT PURGE ANY OF THEIR SINS
BUT WHEN THEY ARE TRULY BROKEN, THEN THEY SHALL SEE.
COME MEET YOUR FATE
I’LL TAKE YOU TO HELL
COME, STATE YOUR CRIMES
SEEK THE ARMS OF DEATH TONIGHT
BY WHAT YOU’VE PERPETRATED
SO SHALL I MAIM YOU
SWINE, DWELL IN YOUR OWN FILTH
IT IS I WHO CLAIMS YOU.
FOR EVERY WOMAN AND CHILD DEFILED
I NOW AVOW TO FEED TO THE FIRE
OF SHARP REVENGE AND OF RETRIBUTION
THE COWARD BRUTE WHO WOULD SEEK SECLUSION
COME FACE ME, SCUM, DANCE WITHIN THE CIRCLE
WHERE BONES SHALL BREAK, FOOL. DOES YOUR BLOOD CURDLE?
CHORUS…
DEATH IS SLOW FOR YOU. MY HATE WILL SEE YOU THROUGH.
PLEAD TO EMPTY SKIES AS YOUR BODY DIES.
CHORUS B
BLEED, STUCK PIG! CRY, YOU RANK CUNT!
COME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! BLEED. DIE, SLUG!
BLEEDING HEARTS: CAUTERIZE YOUR WOUNDS AND SHUT YOUR PETTY MOUTHS.
I JUDGE AS I SEE FIT, LET THE GODS SORT ME OUT.
THE WORLD IS MADE OF FIRE
LIFE IS CHANGE
LIFE IS STRANGE
LIFE IS PAIN
BREATHING FATE
ROILING STATE
TRI-OCULAR STRAIN
STUNTED BRAINS
ONE-TIERED PLANES
ENDLESS RANGE
THOUGHTS COMING AT THE EYE
FATE TRICKLES INSIDE, I SEE TIME CRAWLING
LIGHT FLICKERS IN THE NIGHT
OH, SUCH WICKEDNESS IT BELIES, IT MAKES THE STORM SING
TREAD HEAVY ON THE TIDE; NEVERMIND THE AEONS CALLING
PAIN MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE
IGNITING FROM WITHIN
SLAVES TO FORCES UNSEEN
BELIEVING LIES UPON LIES
SHED THESE TRAPPINGS OF SHAME
THOUGHTS COMING AT THE EYE
FATE TRICKLES INSIDE, I SEE TIME CRAWLING
LIGHT FLICKERS IN THE NIGHT
OH, SUCH WICKEDNESS IT BELIES, IT MAKES THE STORM SING
TREAD HEAVY ON THE TIDE; NEVERMIND THE AEONS CALLING
PAIN MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE
HATE IS SANE
SAINTHOOD’S STAIN
LIES IN-VEIN
BEGGAR’S BANE
KING’S ARCANE
KNOTS OF FAME
RUPTURED FRAME
SLITHERING DAME
A COSMOS INSANE
LURID LIVES, LURID DAYS
OCEANS DRY IN YOUR SWAY
ONANIST FERAL WAY
LITTLE WEBS BURNING TIES
IN THE SEAMS OF YOUR LIES
WE RECITE TO DERIDE
EAGER PATH TO THE HOARD
SPLIT THE TITHE OF YOUR LORD
LITTLE LIVES TO AFFORD THIS CHARADE OF ERSTWHILE
FLACCID LIES, FLACID LIVES
WORTHELESS SPECK IN THE MIND
FLACCID LIES, FLACID LIVES
RISE AGAIN TO THE CALL
MAGMA CHURNS IN YOUR CORE
RISE AGAIN TO THE CALL
NATURE’S FORCE IS THE LAW
BEAT YOUR FISTS, BEAT’EM RAW
NATURE’S FORCE IS YOUR LAW
FIRE CALLS; REASON DIES
IN THE PIT OF YOUR MIND
SOAR ABLAZE IN THE SKY
(X2)
AH, WE ARE NO MORE THAN DUST AND BREATH AND FALTERING THOUGHT
SO WEEPING EVERMORE THE FILTH IS WASHED AWAY
SORE, BLEEDING EVERMORE FOR GLORE, FOR DEATH
DREAM-WROUGHT
LORD OF NONE YET ALL
FIRE, SUCH FIRE CONSUMES ALL THAT LIVES AND BREATHES AND CRAWLS
“THE RAT’S WHISPER”
“SHOULD YOU A RAT TO MADNESS TEASE, WHY E’VN A RAT MAY PLAGUE YOU”
- SAMUEL COLLERIDGE
BEHIND MY EYES YOU’LL FIND THE WILL
TO TAME THE FROTH OF HATE, OF WRATH
CHORUS:
BLOOD OF SAINTS IN MY VEINS
DYING GODS IN THE SKIES
THROUGH MY FLESH HEED THE DEAD
THE ROILING MASS LIKE MELTING GLASS
THEIR PAIN SUBSUMED AND IRE ASSUMED
CHORUS…
ILLUMINATE THE WORLD WITH HATE
NOW RISE TO FATE AND LIFE ABATE
OUT OF MY MIND AND GONE INTO THE VOID
THROUGH DEATH AND BROKEN LINES, OUT OF THE STORM
EVE OF THE CYCLE’S END. WELCOME CATASTROPHE
EARTH’S CRIES TO SILENCE FALL LIKE EMBERS TO THE SEA
CHORUS…
THROUGHOUT THE MASS OF THOUGHT
IS FOUND THE CRACK, THE WEAKNESS
IN MAN’S FUTILE EXISTENCE
THE BANE OF PEACE AND ORDER
RABID, THE HISS, IT CALLS!
IT CALLS!
IT CALLS!
“WHERE GOD AND ANGEL FELL”
FADED, WARPED ANCESTRAL MEMORIES
FEARS ALLAYED; FAITH IN EXTREMIS
BLOATED INEFFECTUAL POINTIFFS
STONED IN MIND AND STRIPPED OF OFFICE
RETARDATION OF THE MASSES
THROUGH THE RITUALS BLIGHTING CLASSES
THE EDGE OF OUR SIGHT
SUCH VISION BELIES THE SECRETS OF A BLIGHTED WORLD
THE SPECTERS OF LIGHT,
THE SHADOWS AT PLAY; WHAT DOES OUR VIEW AVAIL AT ALL?
AND BURROWED WITHIN THE CORE OF OUR BEING
THE WICKED TRUTH REMAINS UNSEEN
THE EFFLUENT STREAM OF PHILOSOPHIES
A TRICKLE OF ABSURDITY
WHAT LITTLE REMAINS OF PIETY AND FAITH
IS WASHED OUT IN A LURID PHASE
WHEN DEATH REACHES FORTH TO PLUCK YOUR RANK YEW
WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL THEN ENSUE?
THROUGH THE PORTALS OF DEMENTIA
SEEK THE DIVINE IN ESSENTIA
IN THE CREVICE OF THE VERSES
LIES THE ROOT OF ALL OUR PURPOSE
CHORUS 1:
VERSUS CHRISTUS
WE’RE THE PROPITIATORS OF DARK BENEDICTION
ANTE BELLUM
GNOSIS IS WITHIN US TO TRANSCEND DAMNATION
WELKIN IS RUMBLING LOUDLY
BELLOWS, THE SEA NOW CHURNING
HEARKEN! THE MADMAN’S LANGUAGE
STAB AT THE LIVER LIVELY
SILENCE THE TONGUE UNBOUND AND
FRACTURE THE WRITER’S TOOL
CHASTISE THE LOWLY PROPHET
CROWNING THE COWARD FOOL
CHORUS 2:
BARK AT THE LIGHT
BAY AT THE NIGHT
HARK AT THE SIGHT
CRY OUT IN FRIGHT
CHORUS 1…
CHORUS 2…
Still two lyrics to come.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Morning Yearning
I have pilfered this title from a Ben Harper song which I just listened to and I can only say that it’s the most beautiful song I’ve heard in a good long time. Furthermore, the actual video for it was directed by the recently deceased Heath Ledger. This makes it all the more poignant and significant in my mind. It’s truly a tragic episode, the death of this man who espoused so much untapped potential still. Another thing that has touched me about this song and all related to it is that this is the kind of music I really want to make. I guess I’ll still dabble in the odd heavy project and what not, but I need to create emotive aural art and not music that’s hard for the sake of hardness.
That is all for now.
“Morning Yearning” Ben Harper
A finger' s touch upon my lips
It' s a morning yearning
Pull the curtains shut, try to keep it dark
But the sun is burning
The world awakens on the run
And will soon be earning
With hopes of better days to come
It' s a morning yearning
Another day, another chance to get it right
Must I still be learning
Baby crying kept us up all night
With her morning yearning
Like a summer rose, I'm a victim of the fall
But I'm soon returning
Your love' s the warmest place the sun ever shines
My morning yearning
That is all for now.
“Morning Yearning” Ben Harper
A finger' s touch upon my lips
It' s a morning yearning
Pull the curtains shut, try to keep it dark
But the sun is burning
The world awakens on the run
And will soon be earning
With hopes of better days to come
It' s a morning yearning
Another day, another chance to get it right
Must I still be learning
Baby crying kept us up all night
With her morning yearning
Like a summer rose, I'm a victim of the fall
But I'm soon returning
Your love' s the warmest place the sun ever shines
My morning yearning
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
A New Page Full of Possibilities
I find myself nearly a month from the start of this year 2008 with abject indifference and marooned in a bank of procrastination. I seem to have little motivation even though I feel a burning desire to arrive somewhere with my myriad machinations and schemes; my ever-growing plethora of stillborn ideas.
I have come to know the greatest feeling I will ever feel and that is being a father. I hold my infant daughter in my arms and feel overwhelmed. I have no words to apply to this new barrage of feelings, this literal storm of emotions that has ravaged my twisted little coal-of-a-heart. Those beautiful little baby eyes looking straight at me ha wrought what no other person or thing ever could in my measly twenty seven years of questionable life. I belong to this child. Freedom be damned, I belong to my baby girl!
I need to get my act together, so to speak, and finally produce something of worth for the sake of actually achieving something in this life beyond shooting my mouth off and criticizing the works of those who’ve actually contributed something to the collective consciousness of the world.
I have left what was once my partial brainchild, my musical endeavor of nearly 8 years, in order to internalize my growth. I feel spiritually impoverished and artistically unfulfilled. For the sake of truth, I feel I have long outgrown my former band mates (that’s not to say I am more mature) in my artistic views and we have diverged for long time now. It was only fitting that I make the call and leave them to grow in the fashion they see fit rather than wrestle them at every turn on what must be dawn and be used as some sort of scapegoat for the collective failure that may or may not be at hand. Perhaps I shall get to see the band grow from a distance, such as a flower from a seed I once planted but eventually neglected to water, effectively becoming its own being – in an egregorial sense – and taking ideas that I inseminated it with beyond anything I may have ever conceived in my addled mind.
I seek to become a renaissance man. The elusive ideal of the multifaceted artiste, proficient and passionate in various fields of human expression and forever immortalized in the minds of the people… A daunting task, perhaps, but what I truly seek is to feel self-fulfilled.
I will collect here the lyrics which I had produced for my former band; I have since decided not to let them use them. It is obviously selfish of me, but I do not wish another to sing my songs that I have not chosen. I couldn’t bare the thought of another being ignorantly credited with the words I have crafted, whether they are of any quality or not. Much like the egregore known as the Hexacorn or Six-Horn, which my dear friend Allen, former keyboardist of the same band, and I crafted into the bands psyche, all intellectual concepts in the band had their birth within my head. I cannot, in good faith, take all from them as that would be effectively butchering the band, but I can, however, take the words that would have been.
If I put the time and manage to come through, The Veil will be released for all to see… or all those willing to see, at the least.
I have come to know the greatest feeling I will ever feel and that is being a father. I hold my infant daughter in my arms and feel overwhelmed. I have no words to apply to this new barrage of feelings, this literal storm of emotions that has ravaged my twisted little coal-of-a-heart. Those beautiful little baby eyes looking straight at me ha wrought what no other person or thing ever could in my measly twenty seven years of questionable life. I belong to this child. Freedom be damned, I belong to my baby girl!
I need to get my act together, so to speak, and finally produce something of worth for the sake of actually achieving something in this life beyond shooting my mouth off and criticizing the works of those who’ve actually contributed something to the collective consciousness of the world.
I have left what was once my partial brainchild, my musical endeavor of nearly 8 years, in order to internalize my growth. I feel spiritually impoverished and artistically unfulfilled. For the sake of truth, I feel I have long outgrown my former band mates (that’s not to say I am more mature) in my artistic views and we have diverged for long time now. It was only fitting that I make the call and leave them to grow in the fashion they see fit rather than wrestle them at every turn on what must be dawn and be used as some sort of scapegoat for the collective failure that may or may not be at hand. Perhaps I shall get to see the band grow from a distance, such as a flower from a seed I once planted but eventually neglected to water, effectively becoming its own being – in an egregorial sense – and taking ideas that I inseminated it with beyond anything I may have ever conceived in my addled mind.
I seek to become a renaissance man. The elusive ideal of the multifaceted artiste, proficient and passionate in various fields of human expression and forever immortalized in the minds of the people… A daunting task, perhaps, but what I truly seek is to feel self-fulfilled.
I will collect here the lyrics which I had produced for my former band; I have since decided not to let them use them. It is obviously selfish of me, but I do not wish another to sing my songs that I have not chosen. I couldn’t bare the thought of another being ignorantly credited with the words I have crafted, whether they are of any quality or not. Much like the egregore known as the Hexacorn or Six-Horn, which my dear friend Allen, former keyboardist of the same band, and I crafted into the bands psyche, all intellectual concepts in the band had their birth within my head. I cannot, in good faith, take all from them as that would be effectively butchering the band, but I can, however, take the words that would have been.
If I put the time and manage to come through, The Veil will be released for all to see… or all those willing to see, at the least.
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