Falling Monuments

Experience of the world around,Hazardously cut open by sharp surreal perception This rotting corpse plagued by disease. So limited, so unreal, so distant Floating in cold dimensions of possession, Watching the inhabited shell in disbelief Madness unfolding in mind, seeking ways of blossom in full Is it path to enlightenment? Or route to final disorder? Shattering Physical world - Unfolding madness. Witnessing what sane can't see, Passing the gateways beyond humane Feeding the damaging current, drowning in the merciless stream.

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 25, 2025

Descent of the Nordic bloodline tied to undefinited heritage, reclusive, suffocated, possessed wind. Grinning from shadows Looking the world through possession of the Nordic Bood Fuelled by nectar of possession Ready to fight with fury World calls for submission and change Nordic blood retreats nowhere Feed the fury Call the victory Nordic blood retreats nowhere.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025

Burning will leaves no peace The call demands response Role is gift, the way out From maggoty apathy. Answer the call to the battlefields In times of mental emptiness The Code of the Warrior Dedication to accepted role. To seek no reason for losing To seek no reason for apathy Legacy of pride! Triumphant glory running in blood! End of our times means nothing Divine quality of creed is curse and blessing Answers it provides strength it manifests The end shall make no difference!

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 25, 2025

The great signs stood tall in breeze Monuments from the past Outliving the failing memories Reaching state of divine gateway to consciousness In awe would man watch towards the skies Seeing rough edges of monument As firm silhouette against decaying world Himself standing in cold shadow, meaningless and forgotten. All man made to be crumbled All turning into dust blown away by winds Erosion consuming dirt Manifestation of Iconoclastic power of natural might! Melancholy of the falling monuments, dirt road towards the void Melancholy of the falling monuments, echoes of connection slowly silenced.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025

As I walk through the forgotten lands The Bloodsoil speaks to me Awakening Clandestine spirit Connecting with unknown greatness. Thorns and textures of Life and Death Deafening natural silence. Voices from unseen sources Stimulating the senses. In distance, so far away from corruption of modern world So close is the Bloodsoil of your Heritage Where greatness of man Remains inferior to land he was born from

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

Seen the annihilation in Horizon. Been on the edge of cathartic purification Strife of the worlds colliding - Ripping self apart. Distracted wreck crawling to directions of blind man Unable to see victorious path! Unable to go through transformation! It awaits, it demands It commands for the sacrifice. So little to give so close to go Horizon of Annihilation ahead The birth as new life form Higher than glorified shell All has been given up Now nothing stands on the Way!

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 25, 2025

Endless return to path chosen long ago Rituals unseen and unheard From shadows of tragic loss to triumph into highest form Endurance of Supremacist Ritual Shadow consuming the deception of Lifeforce Draining all once taught as necessity Leaving only Spiritual Skeletal form To annihilate ego of man To die in mind of oneself To leave only possessed spirit. To rise from the grave of meaninglessness To deliver Supremacist Might Over swarming insects Endurance of Supremacist Ritual Shadow consuming the deception of Lifeforce.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025

Beauty of texture of Blood over tainted surface Fresh reflections of desperation in the mirrors of soul Already seen the hopelessness of stepping on other side Already received taste of awaiting void Organic structures treated as sculpture for the grotesque needs Every detail painfully adjusted to serve the purpose of Icon of Worship. Beauty of texture of blood over tainted surface Fresh reflections of desperation in the mirror of soul Already seen the hopelessness of stepping on other side Already received taste of awaiting void The grotesque choir is the Gospel for sinister ears Martyr of the Ritual. Sacrificial Sculpture. Only the call of funeral bells will set her free Only being swallowed by cemetery soil will put end for the howls.