[untitled]
In the key of passive suffering Of roots hollow and stars fleeting In the key of infantile regression Of the passing crowd sleeping Never to wake An ode to the metallic uterus Which nourishes our spirits And harvests our meaninglessness For everyday that blood traverses death And death is only sought in vain, cast into a realm of rot A thousand pathways stretch beyond space and time Blind are the seekers of truth Hidden hands, silent voices offer treasures unspoken Promises of a throne, a battle wages Brother against brother, sister against sister Vile hearts beat to the rhythms of violence and blood splatter And it motions, running, running, screaming taking flight Hours turn to minutes as days turn to night Flesh melts and falls to ruined earth Bones give way to ashes in our wake Crimson sunsets it’s last Grasps, the mass caste hopelessly cling to god, to the devil To the ignorance within, answers, without Pretender to the throne, what is there now? At long last, a vacant hall of hopes and dreams Hell is what we have sewn And hell is what we reap
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 29, 2026
Endless, depthless nun lay motionless Out of these dark waters The sun was born “I am Khepera od the rising sun! I am Re at noon! I am Atum at the Sun’s last croon!” His bones were of silver And his flesh of gold The mightiest of gods feared him Yet man disobeyed his will So from his fiery His daughter sprung forth To show mankind What they were made for Skhmet, Sekhmet, show man your vengeance! Her chief delight was in slaughter Her pleasure in blood For days she went on Slaying all she passed Showing pity to no-one Eating the flesh of every man The river Nile ran with blood And the mountainside turned crimson Re looked over the Earth once more Pity for man infected his heart He asked his daughter to make good again Laughter rolled out from her mouth Like a lioness ready to pounce! Only the Sleepmaker could stop her
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 29, 2026