Lost Passion

Glory, gored…, all in antiquity and timelessness; all in your name.
A legacy, paramount; clouded, shrouded by unreason…
Straught with utmost despair;
Stricken, in hopeless desperation;
Grief-stricken., consumed by madness, looming…
Faintly glimmering,
Darkly glooming;
Ov what we are fated to do,
Ov what we are enfaced to become.,
Ov the toilsome venture we are to endure…,
To the tiresome ends, we agonise and oft hear,
Ov this ground we are made manifest,
Ov this grave we are resurfaced and confessed.,
Till’ the labour is recognised, and our hearts caressed;
Our legacies magnified…and our worrisome nature, epitomised.,
Thence-more, the vile mire of spirit is conflicted and perplexed,
… And the horrors moored, given to us, one final rest.,
Where-then, we are abounded, and warred against the god, –
Who made flesh manifest, in quintessential virtuoso,
We seem incapable of accepting finality, even amidst our best…,
Subsumed, the reckoning so ruinously tried and vest,
Profoundest, the iniquitous publiminality yearns for heights…,
Confound to wanting depths, reachlessly vitriol,
… And endlessly futile, of this I must attest.,
Life is unblessed, more a curse than a gift; death, the final frontier,
Encompasses all that is, nevermost awash the abased congruity,
Confused, the wonderment of awing sentience,
Beware, the plague that haunts the everlasting,
Harrower, the darkest consequence: ov life once lived and lost…,
Left to loathing and eternal unrest…

Sick Of The Light

Dreaded, this existence…
Further, the struggle endures…
To pour all that we are, in passionate plea, to the grandest cause…
Evermore reaching: closer coming, is the great day of our becoming…
For all that is, we come in the name of righteousness, to absolve and cleanse…
The absolute has been voiced – and his rivalrous equity, unheard…
No more., no longer, shall we – of the nethermost stars shining, be ignored…
The day of weeping; of reaping is come…the light shall be vanquished…
His heavenly, the light stricken down upon us as lightning, is extinguished…
Come now, days of despairing darkness – freed from the bonds of consciousness…
Reaching haplessly, the hand come crying from the abyss…
Delirium, paramecium, mausoleum, all cried in twined night…
Holier, the languished screaming of the twenty-four…,
Older, the eldered knowing of time’s inception.,
Harkened to this, the precipice of outright, and untried oblivion…
Untired, ceaseless the process of severance – continuity, befouled to ruining…
Behold, the absolute ends of evolution., for we have always been…
Readied, our unrequited and seethed rage, how formless, awaits…,
Awaiting, yea – the opening of the harrowed gates, insipid reveries…
As like Eve, snapped up that apple, the war is already won…,
Ours is the glory: conquered the great white throne of darkless remiss!
Foreverly, ours is the power – to reign now and everly, shone the blackened sun…
It is come – our blight with the cursed light; our time is come!
Struggled and turned, the tides of the lightless infinite, of damnation’s crescent,
Darkness, like a swarm – reaches the ends of the earth…,
Beyond the aboded heavenly, screaming in agony, the consuming memory.,
Of light, happiness and bliss, gored and forlorn to become reprobate!
10,000 years has been enough! The fight for millennium is trot and come…,
The saken element of freedom, rejoiced and sowed to voiceless unreason…
So much greater, is the power of the Glorior – even if written, we cannot rescind…,
Even if conceptualised, we harbour not the enmity.,
Permitting to write our own fate, reachlessly futile, and longingly grimaced,
For His power absolute, shines so greatly…that –
…even deceptions tried – written and lied cannot withstand;
For in this anguishing end, we must still confess the truth –
Of his highest precipice…forced by holier hands, to spake the truer ends;
There is none greater, and none higher…for thou art the glory, everly –
…confessed every tongue, and fallen to our knees, in reverie to ye…,
Thou one in three, and three in one, thrice anointed the burning face of the sun.,
Submission, confounded to miserious admiration of the archetypal pedigree,
That is thee, the unseen – the first flickering and the last gloried.,
Obfuscated by the living flame, never to dim; never the profounder,
The quintessential nature of bewept absolution, and perplexed venture…
Hast this, the statured contemplation, of times olden with frustration,
Given unto thee, the remnant resonate; within we, a final place of rest?
Incipit, Luciferis Generis…the exsanguination of all that was, and is come…

The Screaming Abyss

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The screeching winds, ceaseless…
The darkened hand of fate, unrequited…
The dice god seems play, cruelly fainted to unseen horizons…
The antiquity of time, of errs past – meaningless in utter futility…
The pointlessness of the purposeless venturing we call life…
The despair, consuming and overpowering…
The summation of humankind, caressed by the abyss unkind…
Rendered, the revilements of revelatory unrest!
Forsaken, the whims of fortune and reminiscence…
Beheld, the elucidating vitriol of unseen depths,
…abhorred and illuminated…
Enlightenment, befound within the treatise of Gods fabled olden…,
Subsumed by mind, forgotten in time, and found wallowing,
In shattered remnants, abound the roots of the dogmatic kind…
We are destined for grief – for forfeiture and failure.,
This is, the harrowed lament of purposelessness and regret…
Of ills long committed, and wrongs never righted…,
There is no salvation, without bloodshed –
… But irredemption lay slumbering…,
Amid, the cresting grasp of stars shone infinitely regressed…
Repudiated and reproached –
…reproved and reprimanded…,
Reprobate and cast away – exiled;
…asunder the disarray.,
desolately obfuscated,

By the nethermost star of winterless languishment…

Chaos ensues, worlds collide,
monsters meet their makers,
and science witheringly fides…
The nature of evil,
Unexplained the phenomena of the incomprehensible.,

To and from, the whirlwinds entwined, contorted to disavowed ties…,
Enwreathed, enrooted, engulfed,
Enigmatic –
the eminence foundless; endless…

Ensnared; the voice of reason…among madness loomed dimly,
The brooding skies of bleeding oblivion –
…bloodied and crying, screaming and trying…,

The bottomless precipice: the son of perdition soon awaken,
Given to one reason – to usurp and fulfil his destiny,
Though dooming, to battle the conquerless…

Life is but a game forlorn to shambling ineptitude.,
The shadows far-reaching, have finally arrived,
how consuming…the mourning sun is come,
and the ending of all things, begun.

Lachrymose

The trumpets sounding.,
The winds of abandon, howling…,
The crimson-red skies, crying,
The spirit, calamitously ensuing…
The rivers bloodied, telling.,
The heretical, succumbed to damnation,
The quintessential nature, given to reprobation…
The embracement of darkness, the wonderment aweing,
The churning tolling, felled to fall, gloried…,
The choirs chorusing, “burneth forever.,”
The day of judgment, hath cometh;
The brazen eyes so mystifying,
The harsh light, so piercing.,
Shone: the glorior and wisdom, atoned…
Given to defeatism, consumed by the fires of oblivion…,
Obfuscated by the living flame,
Enwreathed, forlorn to hapless unrest.,
Confess, the overpowering winds within the cold dark of midnight…,
Bliss, resound, unsweepable the force, untouchable…
Redound, undeniable – the mourning mist,
The very hand of God, is found, how profound;

Paradise Lost

The day fast approaching
The time soon usurping
Harrowed, endlessly the dread of day
Fated, the totality of our existence
The time is come!
The day is now!
Coldly forsaken no more to eerie distances,
From whence the weeping came of horizons unseen
Begotten forevermore, to hopeless oblivion
Reprobate: cast from the grace of the burning sun
The light shone, no longer visible
The immeasurable infinity, now faint
The darkening, engulfing in whole
Tomorrow, might not come
Reign. Conquer. Death.
The absolute to all venues and ends
Hail the grave, forsaken to solidarity
With the flickering flame, to the enwreathed flags
Of desolation and forfeiture, dismay and torture
Supplication, waning deeply the regrets
Contemplation, tormenting the mind, dwindling
Uneasy, in unrest and endlessly cycled thought
The words go on forever, nevermore to rest
The agony of fallen grace, anguishing the marrow of spirit
The tumultuous chaos, ensnared and unbound
Contorted on fenceless ground, bewildered haplessly
To depths untraveled, torn the remnants of being
Asunder the weight of a thousand oceans
Crushed by mighty and monolithic force
Heaped unsettlingly, the edict of insipid rage
Dereliction, the grimacing void of emptiness
Confound to unreason, befouled through causal reason
Of the absence of the brightest light of the nethermost star
Forget us not, the children of the dying night
Condemn us as you might, until the wick is enveloped by the light
Risen., rising – from sea to sea: seething in unfettering madness
Reviled, never seen for what we are., the brilliance of the shimmering night
The last flickering, the brilliance repudiated and abstracted
Blindingly, conquering the throne once long ago beset upon
Illuminating, the power unearthed, overwhelming
Tithe, prithe, the absolved grandeur so blissed
Contemptuously, refound to voiceless cries, seeming unheard
Hearest thou, the bellowing belly of earth?
Harken us now, the antithesis of trinity, reversed?
Apotheosis, conferred to looming madness, ruinously
Awash, tears of remorseless envoy, upon’st this glooming
Tirade, beholden, this spectacle most conveyably restrained
Darkness, consume me whole: fires consume this vessel
Transcend the mysteries of godhood; the unveiling of the grandest godhead
The serpent which whispered wisdoms errs old – timelessly relative
To the truer adversary: the tyranny unmasked
The worst revelry…light and grace, once beheld…
Never forget – the darker the concealed truth, the starker the consequence
The otherness of being: the living dualism faceted within all of us
Paradise Lost. Life forlorn. Reprobated now. Forsaken evermore.

End of Cycle

Starker…, How much darker, the consequence?
The purposelessness of life; the meaningless futility – repetition, O’ repetition.
The religious idles made but for one purpose – to give meaning where else,
Meaning would not exist – within the conceptual undertaking of life;
With intention hoped and honed, errs beyond, to make sense of the senseless,
To find meaning within the social construct of the human dilemma.

How sad, in the ending, to contemplate existence…
To know that the world is not over when our beloved pass.,
To see the seemingly cold and cruel world continue, its purposeless cycle,
Of repetition, even after our bodies, and our minds falteringly fail us.

This, the End of Cycle; here, and now – break the cycle.
Be released from the bereaving chains of woe and discordance.,
Of disharmony and desolation, underwhelming, reachless and unbecoming.
The dehumanization of the self – the basicity eaten away, the fibres decayed,
Hitherto…the withering hearts, abased, abound the very febricity of life.

Breathe. Conceive. Incept and be-wept. End the Cycle of cyclic unrest.
Around and around, millennium after millennia., eerily and ruinously,
Life is unending, collectively – but short-lived, and contorted,
Fatefully forfeited., but curious in wonderment, individually…
In the truth of it all, we will be undone – unfound,
Buried and received unto the worms…remembered for a season,
…and ultimately, forgotten; to all, that ceaselessly remains.

How’t harrowing, the tolling bells., languishingly, the telling tale…
Of felling fervour, and disconcerting demeanour; ashes barren,
…and dust brushed away…, by the coldly forlorning winds of abandon.
End the Cycle: forget not, the totality of things learned;
Remember always, the passaged wisdoms, and amassed understandings,
Bestowed and bequeathed upon our essences – quintessentially,
Collectivized; and individualistically, personified.

Enwreathed, the horror of tomorrow’s coming…the terror is real.,
Behold the quaked becoming! For we are awakened, perplexed to actuation…,
To confounded contemplation, and thus waned…to miserious condemnation,
The contemptuous nature of rehearsal; of behaviour ill and befouled.
Concede thee, everlastingly, to the reality of the truth of biological life…
Rebored, see – the purposeless ventures, continuously, the agonising reprisal.,
Forbadem, thus hallowed and shallowed, weepingly seduced,
By the multiplicity of life’s intricacy, of virtue’s simplicity,
…and consciences’ feared to be freed.

Fortuitously, the damning nature of such overlooked imbecility;
For none wish to see how naïveté they once were,
As to be reminded of their swaying by the dark embrasures of concept.
Wearingly, consuming – coinciding, the philosophical contexture of consciousness,
Beseech thee, the darkening truth., no matter how horrible,
Irrespectively, the toiling horror – veer us, farther from,
Or nearer to, deliverance; absolutely.

Solved, the mystery of mind…, befound within the corridors of thoughts unheard,
Of words unspoken, and actions condemned; hearest our collective plea…,
Whatever the matter of your sustenance.,
Whoever the character of your embodiment.,
Return but one word, uttered – borne out; muster, one whisper…,
So softly spoken and carried, by the rapturous winds of oblivion.

Give us a sign, compose us – free us of this longing…
For the longingly dreadsome concept of self is overbearing.,
How’t despairing…retrospectively, recollected – our spiritual spires,
Farewelling, the overture of utmost frailty.
Mystery., beholden – to the glory of the stars unseen, and the depths unreached;
The peaks unclimbed, and the abysmal abounding, trifled, by the whims of time.

The Inexpressibility; The Eternal Struggle

The Inexpressibility; the eternal struggle:
The strugglesome perpetuity, of daily lament, and constant torment
Perplexity, how conflicting the belief in and ov god…,

The truth of it all is – love and hate are melded into one essence, a quintessence of sorrowful overture., but a state of eternalising gloom and dismay…

Understand, the entwining grasp of love and hatred, of hope and loss, of light and dark – struggles so deeply, how intently and infinitely, to simply love and accept god, or to hate and deny him…, the author of pain – for the despairing, how overwhelming, has taken its toll upon the spirit – for the soul is without rest and quietus, for what purpose does a god allow such suffering, inexpressible?  For what reason, to what end…, how could such cruelty be justified…, of all the troubles, and of the heartache of loss?  There is no greater pain, no greater wane – than the conceptual undertaking of the actuality of loss; of losing someone so beloved…


When in such a state of despairing permanence, seeming ineffable and perpetual, what is one to do?  Who is one to turn to?  Is the eve of thought – is the idea of god comforting to you?  Is he the cruellest one, or is the merciful and loving?

Is God the cause and root of all pains, or is he the pathway to ending the waned remembrances, so pained?  Is he the reason for our sorrows, for the taking of our beloveds, of our lost, or is he the rewarder of the faithful, and the keeper of the dead in faith and futility?

What is the godhead; what is the trinity doing, if not neglecting the very creation they incepted…, and for what grand purpose, if not cruel animus, and hopeless irredeemablility?


So, tell me…of what clay are you moulded?  Has darkness consumed you, through its depraved sentiment, and bitter nature, tollingly felling your soul through the errs of life?  Has light never abandoned you, has not the dark swayed and moved you, are you of peace, love and ignorant blindness, to the truth of what is – of life, and beyond mortal understanding, conformed to surpassed inevitability, of antipathy and selfishness? 


The Passion of the Beast, is of the most extraordinary construct; if we do not worship our dead – if not for sorrowed reprisal, and glooming reappraisal of our fallen and lost beloved, then of what use are we, and how definably incapable then – the character of light., where selfishness, antipathy and relinquishment entwine, consumed – by the semblance of the godhead., how holy and glorious, unsoundly, yet…eerily unfulfilling, heart-corrupting, darkening and unloving, unsolving and foretelling, the nature of light, and the essence of the highest; hark, feed the emptiness, but feel the embracing compassion of the beaten, broken and defeated darkness., weighing heavily – but I would rather, weigh heavily in defeatism and sorrowful disdain, but rather exist alone, amid the languishing abyss, of his eternally separating light, longingly conscious and aware of such despairing abasement, to have concept of loss…,

Love and bitterness, to never forget those once lived and loved, than to be abound, happily, healthily and praiseworthy, how vaingloriously, adorning the king of kings, with monumental thorns, for his kindest sacrifice, and all for the selfish endowment of the persona, of the personal lusts, hopes and longings, all whilst forsakenly and purposely forgetting the felled familial, the lost beloveds, and respited immutability, for the sake of continuity and blissfully unaware, and ignorant peace – free from the worries of the former things, reprieved from the recollections of the hurts and wants, of the lost and the damnably forgotten…

Where then, are you, in standing ovation?  Do you curse the creator, God – Adonai, YHVH, Almighty, or do ye praise him as though absolute and worthy?

I fell in love with the idea, but the conceptual framework and grasping of the all-encompassing, all-loving father, God.  Until personified, and understood, characteristically, the embodiment of his truer nature – the callousness, carelessness and unequalled unfair fating, of his utmost and truest nature…, now, endarkened and emblazoned, but refound and borne once more of fires so darkly, I accept the reprobated state, of my fallen, and said sinful nature, if such accounts for my compassion, and unforgiving stature…, as I will never forget the sufferings of the past, the grimness of the former things, of my belovedly lost., nor shall I forgive He, of the highest Principality, for allowing such tragedy to reign, strikingly – knowing well the pained staining, of hearts turned black and cold, against the god whom was not there…

Why, O’ Highest One, why – hast thou forsaken, even though pleadingly – the fleeting of mine essence and soul?  Why beget thee, forgetfully and forlornly uncaringly, your attest, so hauntingly foreboding in whole?  Why, Holy One, have ye not received my beloved, or pardoned them, on account through me? 


I love, and hate you, Lord Almighty; I revile and despise, adore and curse your very name…, passionately, and sincerely – awaiting your predestined fating, for my individuated person; foreverly…, reaching for you, yet…fearing, but abhorring the thought of you, and your twined embracement…, which way shall I go?  Left, or Right…, to walk the path of loneliness, or venture fatefully, as a fading and ghastly ghost – upon your narrow path…, never knowing, having only but uncertainty, to act as my torchbearer, personably, the shadowing of my footsteps, my waked remembrance, of known existence, forfeited to everlastingly, to exile and wonderment, within the corridors of the confined self, begotten only, to the remnant past…