Panopticon

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Rise up, spirit of my ancestry and fill me with vigilance again. No longer will we watch from our posts, torches of war burn this eve. For those who possess undue power, they lurk in our midst with innocent blood staining their sleeves. Their slaves labor away into nothingness, lost in the abyss of factories. The gods are replaced with commodities unfit to occupy their thrones. Their rightful place, we bow our heads to mere currency. Our apathy allows capitalism to enslave, to enslave, enslave! The price of our freedom is the essence of our slavery, the master I've served will never repay me. There's poison in the communion wine, and in this theocracy we will all die. Worship false idols, currency in our veins, the bow breaks in this ship of fools. Capitalism enslaves, paid in blood, paid in blood! Tonight all flags must burn in a place of steeples. Autonomy must return into the hands of the people. This is war on our oppressors! The concept of nationalism robs us of our very nature, destroys our tribes and torn apart our families. Gagged and bound we slit the throat of the henchman then laugh at the contradiction. Laugh at the contradiction... Falsify our inspiration, numbed by media, the tools for complacency market our fucking rebellion. Behold the chains of profit, there is nothing sacred. We are convinced that we are free because we are not starving. But our souls starve for something else than profits and convenience. We starve for the truth, we starve for earth. We starve for freedom and untainted skies. How long will we swallow the shit that they feed us? How long will they rape our ears with their lies? I will not surrender my heart to anyone but me. There are just a few things that I believe: That people are born free and slavery is murder, that their property is theft, and government is tyranny. Anarchy is liberty.... Liberation! Tonight all flags must burn in a place of steeples. Autonomy must return into the hands of the people!

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

Epicures messiah, deliver us from our selves, our love affair with our own reflections, from immorality and all it entails. Hedonists, prostitutes, heretics they all see eye to eye. The pursuit of pleasure and our carnal nature. The prize for which we'll die! Hail death, hail sex, lust, hail horror, hail pleasure, hail pain, in our emptiness we've nothing to gain. In our emptiness we've nothing to gain! Hedonists, prostitutes, heretics they all see eye to eye. The pursuit of pleasure and our carnal nature. The prize for which we'll die! Aristipus is dead, we'll join him in the dirt. Pleasure is our primal pursuit, we will sleep in the earth. The human exhibit, the menagerie of lust. Feasting on whore's flesh, gaze upon harlots and sluts. To bed ourselves in filth, to replace our hallowed ground Bare the greed upon our palms, infected loins abound. Bar code sexuality, our romance factory. The impulse, our animalistic nature. Hardwire our desires. Worship ourselves in the church of fools. Worship ourselves in the church of fools. Idol worship idle hands, the deprivation of man. The illusion of human misery, vanity, lust, sex and death. Behold the human machine. the lust industry, towering smoke stacks to the sky, dominance and falicentricity. This is the rape of the intellect, the incircumventable abyss, insurmountable mass appeal, narcissistic bliss. Carnal creation and cadavers, morbid obsession with our own reflection. The hallow act of adoration, the need to slake our own lust. The human machine, the viral infection. We are both pest and pesticide.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 25, 2025

The ability to speak brings value to a life. The ability to beg, plead, and rationalize. Jaws that embrace the horror of this silent holocaust. Desecrate the earth with consumption and loss. Disrupted natural order, ecological blasphemy. an insult to our integrity, ingest the horror. The devastation and death! When nature and nurture are self-negating, parasites until there is nothing left. Parasites until there is nothing left! Caged in factories and commercial shelves, the new definition of Hell. The suffering and loss! We rape the land for industry, kill and eat the living things with no regard to the cost.

Submitted by MetalElf — Nov 16, 2025

Geirrod and Agnar set to sea, sons of King Hraudung they were. Their oars kissed the waves above where Jormagund sleeps. They cast off their baited hooks! The clouds gathered above in the heavens, their luck in the catch left them unaware. Caught amidst the storm and far off the shore as the serpent thrashed at the ocean floor. Wave upon wave they held strong, pulled further and further from shore. Brave-hearted,strong sons of the north, they would see land once more. Once more! They awoke dashed against the rocks, weary and bruised from the journey. They gathered themselves searching for shelter, in the distance they saw a column of smoke. They were greeted at the door by a simple farmer and his wife. They were fed and given shelter as they stayed the winter through. The farmer was good and wise, and he cared for Geirrod. His wife grew close with Agnar who began to see her as his mother. There was darkness in Geirrod's heart, selfishness and hate. As winter drew nigh to an end their fathers kingdom did await. They braved the sea on their journey home, Geirrod's heart was full of deceit and as he stepped upon the shore he pushed his brother out to the sea. Out to the sea! Their father passed away in their absence, the throne was empty and Geirrod was now king. Odin watched from Asgard and smiled upon his work for he was the farmer and Frigg, the wife, who had cared for them in the cold. Agnar had grown into a man, a giantess he did wed. Odin scoffed at young Agnar saying Geirrod was a better man. Geirrod was a ruthless king and he ruled his people with hate. Frigg contested Odin's claim and they sought the boys again. They sought the boys again! Frigg sent word into Geirrod's kingdom, of a powerful sorcerer making his way. Cloaked in rags Odin came, unaware of the fires that await. Odin called himself Grimnir and was seized, placed between 2 fires and bound in chains. 8 nights in the sweltering heat but the God would not be slain. God would not be slain! Geirrod's had a son 8 winters old, named Agnar for his fathers brother. He freed Grimnir and gave him a full horn to drink as griminess cloak was smoldering. Geirrod sat, sword on his knee, half drawn from its sheath. When he heard of Odin he rose to take him from the fire. The sword slipped and fell hilt down and he fell upon the sword. Then Odin vanishedand Agnar was crowned a king forevermore.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 25, 2025

We've watched the clouds cry hand in hand, an end to all things. An embrace to ride the rising sun, momentary beauty all to brief. Raced the evening stars and all their glory, love's conviction so transitory. Betrayal! And my cup runneth over, its brim tainted with your deception. My heart pounds rhythms that break my ribs, for a heart of love always forgives but a mind of vengeance never forgets. Pick the scabs from my eyes, the colors so vibrant that I am blind shown beauty that never existed. Angels with no faces! Fuck wings, I've got arms to hold you. All of you, and i swear I'll never dream of flying again. But who stole my optimism, For the thieving hand will be cut. It's lies long side my heart, I suggest you wear thick gloves. 1000 ghosts for the not yet deceased, next to them are visions of me. Locked away yet I possess the key! I am the master of my own slavery! The truth is so poisonous, it's hatred disguised. Sometimes the most comfortable bed is made with virulent lies. I would drown you in uncertainty, and choking on your tears. Your grasp transcending the distance, your reflection is the face of what you fear. Reflection is the face of what you fear!

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

Salts in the fields, harvest iniquity, is this how we show we care, obligation, grief and despair? The roots are poisoned... Dig deep in the earth the bounty you've sewn, restricted wings, wedding rings. The roots are poisoned... In their hair there are no braids, slaves who refuse to serve their masters. Your evening obligation is the soil on your face. When I'm burned alive, will you go down in flames? What freedoms are denied you other than your right to breathe? What expectations are placed on you? Conform, discard, dilute! The roots are poisoned...

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

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