The Congregation
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
The bell tolls deep beneath the skin, A whisper calls the grave within. They rise in rags, they dance in time, To Death’s waltz, both low and prime. Dance of the Dying, the circle is wide, No king, no beggar, no soul can hide. The fiddle weeps, the hour bleeds, All heed the dirge where silence feeds. The maiden sways, the soldier bows, The priest kneels under broken vows. They twirl through ash, through bone and night, In funeral grace, beneath pale light. One by one, the steps are learned, Flesh forgets, but dust has turned. Take my hand, deny no breath, For all shall waltz in arms of death. The Pale Minuet... The Pale Minuet. The wind recalls each silent name, A breath, a chill, a fleeting flame. No voice resists, no shadow stays, All fall in line where silence plays. Dance of the Dying, the circle is wide, No king, no beggar, no soul can hide
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
When moonlight bends on withered stone, They rise from roots the earth disowns. Barefoot and veiled in smoke and sin, They chant the dark that burns within. The circle drawn with blood and ash, The fire speaks in tongues that clash. The air is thick with birth and curse, As time dissolves in spells reversed. Coven in the Flame, daughters of the dusk, Whirling through the pyre, sacred and profane. Bound to none, in smoke they reign, Sisters of the night, in blood and bane. Take the vow, break the seal, Name the beast the stars conceal. Speak in flame, and be unbound, For no god hears where drums resound. "Haeresis est maxima opera maleficarum non credere."
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
When moonlight bends on withered stone, They rise from roots the earth disowns. Barefoot and veiled in smoke and sin, They chant the dark that burns within. The circle drawn with blood and ash, The fire speaks in tongues that clash. The air is thick with birth and curse, As time dissolves in spells reversed. Coven in the Flame, daughters of the dusk, Whirling through the pyre, sacred and profane. Bound to none, in smoke they reign, Sisters of the night, in blood and bane. Take the vow, break the seal, Name the beast the stars conceal. Speak in flame, and be unbound, For no god hears where drums resound. "Haeresis est maxima opera maleficarum non credere."
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
From cloistered halls where shadows preach, He hunts with fire, beyond God's reach. Scroll in hand, and soul as steel, No sin too deep, no wound to heal. He speaks in tongues the damned obey, A psalm of wrath, a priest’s decay. Through ash and chains, the truth shall crawl, For in his name, the faithful fall. Speak, or the fire shall speak for you, Repent, or pain will see you through. The Devil hides in silence deep, And saints must wake what hells they keep. Hammer of the Heretics, the smoke becomes a crown, His gospel spreads as bodies drown. The night is black, the soul is dry, Bernard Gui — your faith or die.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
You weep where crows outnumber men, And soil swells with breathless kin. She was the light, the hearth, the grace — Now only dust upon your face. I do not steal, I simply keep, I silence all, not just the weak. I come not cruel, but ever near — Your grief is deep... but I am here. Whisper beneath the veil of black, The plague has come and won’t turn back. No priest, no charm, no fevered plea, Can close the door that waits for thee. The bells are mute, the winds don’t pray, The stars avert their eyes away. One path remains, both worn and wide — You walk it now, with none beside. The cradle rots, the cradle swings, No more the songs, no more the strings. A shadow cradles what you were— No mother’s touch, no gentle slur. Beneath the yew, the silence grows, Where memory sinks and no one knows. You call for dawn, for warmth, for flame— But I alone will speak your name.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
They gather 'round the burning page, Their claws ink-stained with monkish rage. "Thou shalt not dance" — they read and grin, Then toast the flames that boil the sin. Oh Hammer, dull and blind with pride, Your chains are myths the weak abide. No parchment curse can seal our breath, We wear your dread like crowns of death. Procession of the holy fools!!! The demons prance in bishop’s robes, With jokes that echo through the globes. They quote the writ, then tear it clean, And feast upon the ink between. Oh Sprenger, scribe of trembling fools, We break your fire, we mock your rules. Each witch you damn, we lift instead — And dance where priests would beg or dread.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
In ancient woods, where shadows lie, Seraphine reigns ‘neath storm-filled sky, With eyes aflame and voice like thunder, Her whispered name brings fear and wonder. Her hands weave doom, eternal plight, Commanding earth, the storm, the night, Amidst the lightning, power swells. Oh, Seraphine, dark sovereign of fate, Your deeds carve legends, your will innate, In endless night, your shadowed throne, The thunder roars, your might is known. No blade can pierce your storm-clad form, No light survive your rising storm, Queen of the abyss, where darkness dwells. Eternal Queen, through time you soar.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
In tenebris noctis, monachus clamat, solus et fractus. Vox daemonis in corde eius, velut serpentis, sibilat ad tactum. Sacrae scripturae tremunt, folia rubescunt in flamma, et lux crucis obscuratur ab anima damnata. "In nomine Dei!" clamat, sed verba vana sunt, nam Malus ridet in umbris, vultu foedo et profano. Linguae draconis implicantur, mentem vulnerantes dentibus acutis , et processionem stultorum in noctem silentem ducit. In circles drawn by ash and bone, He speaks where stars are overthrown. No scripture binds, no cross can hold, The tongue that burns with truths untold. Kneel, daughters, and unchain your mind, Your flesh is sacred, not maligned. The light you seek was always near — But veiled in guilt, and clothed in fear. With goat’s horn crowned and torch alight, He opens sight beyond the night. The left-hand path is carved in flame, And every wound shall bear his name. Drink from the dark and rise anew, The fire cleanses what was true. You are the storm, the root, the breath — My mark is love that dances death.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026
I. Oh mortals bound by fleeting fire, You chase delight, you climb, aspire; But I have watched the ages fall, And silence waits beyond you all. Your hearts, ablaze with want and flame, Shall whisper not when I proclaim. II. I walk through halls of king and slave, Their golden dreams, their quiet grave; The blood you spill, the love you feign, All melt beneath my shadowed reign. I come not swift, nor come with pain, But sure, as night that knows no name. III. Let go your lust, your wrath, your pride, For none shall with their ghosts abide. The end of all your yearning breath Is not in fire—but stillness, Death. So kneel, not in despair or shame, But knowing: I shall end your flame.
Submitted by johnmansley — Jun 22, 2026