Death Gifted a Bouquet
The Elkmother speaks to me And tells me many things Of those without faith Of the soul searching and the destitute Those left scathing in the scuttles of time Born of the heavens yet made to wander here On this infernal plains of Abraham Sitting alone by the fire, a nymph came to me And spoke of her ancestors with a poisoned tongue Now she rests by the pools of Bacchus Indulged in the ecstasy of winе and erotica Lest she will fall to еven darker seductions Only her descendants will know of her descent Fortunes gifted by a mass of writhing tendrils Eyes that gaze beyond the furthest horizons I've been there, a lonesome blind pilgrim And I've traveled for far too long And as I sit 'neath the firmament I can almost see you dancing with all her daughters In these flames that I will soon fall into Where I will see you again
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 27, 2026
A dark wind blows A woman gathers her clothes before the coming storm Her curtains dance She shouts her husband's name To a plaguelike sky Thunder rolls on by Her daughter rests by the shoreline A sun waits behind an iron armada His gentle kiss blows away from her When she sleeps, her mother curses the northern winds A pasture, a well and the first harvest of the year To dream is to die alone To stay is to die inside She could almost touch the color of the wheat Before it faded into the grey A man of oak stood next to her A hand on her shoulder, she was beckoned into the night The lantern has almost run out of oil And the snow keeps getting deeper The bread is burning over the hearth And the wind keeps on howling The mother of a fatherless child cries herself to sleep And the void keeps on growing
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 27, 2026
A dying fawn laughs And a new night comes To each their own, but I Was led by the fleeting bliss of youth A hearth lay empty Cold and flickering Waiting for a traveler to gather it Up into his arms The flight of those once made sacred A waste of futile existence Why tend to the flock if they all die anyways? From the calmest days Shall you lead an uneasy kayak through the harshest storms And for you to rest only enrages her more Who am I to ease my suffering? To writhe in the snare To carve marks into the bone Shall only appease the hunter more Or does it pity him, that he would starve without you Alas, the fawn slowly withers But not without the joyful weeping Of Saturn's rotten hand
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 27, 2026
An October night howls and a cabin lay empty For the cold hands grasped her Not unlike a drafty attic in December Or a moth stuck in a cedar wardrobe Born from the black cube of Andromeda I have been given stigmata from Orion The great bear of the cosmos follows me As he searches for the lost twins of time In my hands, a knife from the forests For which I shall cleanse the waters 'round my home Death gifted me a bouquet That will silence the eternal blaze of the wood fire By these shores, we have called this cabin our home Do you remember the perfume of burning spruce and honey Or the gentle petrichoral whispers of the northern rain Would you give that up for your false idea of freedom? A skeleton wanders these empty fields In search of meaning He ignores the shrieks of gods Or the orgies of Saturn as they call his name Ages and ages have passed by these woods And yet, she lays awake wandering in these wastes A bent pine growing ever closer towards the night A whale howling to the evergloam As he vanished into the darkwood A moonlit burial ground Shards of glass fall from her neck And a child sings of a withering pyre
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 27, 2026