Yearning Arrows; Cloven Suns
I curse upon the gruesome night which had tricked me into aimless sleep. Thus, this primal foe of man I thought defeated crawled down my sullen throat. Downward I shall go to battle with the beast and sunward I shall flow where rays will be my feast. Yet harrowing pales my grin as I fight this blackened snake who has choked my scarce and noble intent. Yet eager harks my blood for the command to break the chain it has held to serve this heart made of lies. Whose is this withering voice which is soothing me, as I wrestle for the sun? „Spitting Heads!!“ „Spitting Heads!!“ Bite down on this ghastly snake of old and spit away its rotten head. See yourself through the godless splendor and laugh in spiteful delight! And laugh in spiteful delight!
Submitted by Infernal Flame — Jun 22, 2026
As we sail through the winds of pale creation There is friend, there is foe, there is blood upon the foaming waves. Yet, the thought that reigns triumphant, is the tome of the sinner. He, who himself had striven to praise his word. Hence, the waters of תְּהוֹם are longing for the ancient lamb, and the foam on the waves is craving the crimson spill. And stubborn cheer our hearts Which loathe the fascist unity As our cry shall sound: „We’re at war with peace “. The fight of the sailor is to bear the abyssal sea Though his fury is virtue and his struggle is fierce, he too shall nourish the waves We’re at war with peace! We’re at war with peace! And stubborn cheer our hearts Which loathe the fascist unity As our cry shall sound: „We’re at war with peace “.
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Last night I climbed a mountain steep A wanderer bold and without fear. I longed to pass even the brightest of stars for they are but fireflies to my blaze. Near the ridge my step grew weak As threefold devils laughed at me; as baleful horrors gazed at me with eyes as bright as ivory. One made me see the lower plains and I turned my head in shame; one made me see the peak befogged and I turned my head in doubt. The last of devils led me to the gorging depths right underneath my plagued feet. Where darkened shades laid still of shattered men and I turned my head in deafeat. A glance at the abyss and at the chance of defeat draws water to fire and winter to heat. A glance at the abyss and at the peaceful quiet has cut the rope in two. Into perpetual darkness where neither Gods nor Devils creep; for where the flesh has perished there is no soul for them to reap
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Behold the sword wielded by the ancient tribe: Unmatched the blade yet dull it feeds through the flesh. Esteemers! Creators! When will you recognize your sin? Bequeathed the virtue of a just, noble fight – though fruitless smites the awful hand… Warriors! Conquerors! When will you grasp the goal of goals? I summon thee; loyal ones, who fell to please a single truth. I summon thee, victims of thine idiocy, to quell a thousand necks. To quell a thousand necks is ridding them of all weight. Woe to you: The pride-ridden man – it is your whip that shames the wise whipper! The pride-ridden man: I, the knave, dictator, have felt the hermit’s word, have grasped his single truth. I, the sole decimator, bane of promethean seed, shall lead my turdial legions into the sewage of time!
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026