Theomachia

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No lie is more endemic to this era Nor more diseased Than the lie of progression No lie is more self-aggrandising Entrenched, hostile to truth Than the lie of progression Do we not decay? Do we not perish? Unlike those wise with years Our years have brought madness That by the fact of our own era we must be right More so than those, our fathers, it’s held that we advance With every generation, ennobling ourselves In chronocentric and blind narcissistic hell This world is fated Approaching its nadir Walking the path away From any higher order The utterances of slaves, flouting eternal laws Suckling at the black teat of Kali with dripping maws Yet victory goes to those who know how to obey In total scorn defying the lie of progression

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025

Worker of divine will and mandate of heaven Kshatriya thou master of the chaos that thou art Enduring the spear without agony As the knightly horse who rarely feels the master’s whip Attending to the only order timeless and unauthored The sentry of his arms, who sees without sight Servant of the hammer of eternity’s execration With the blood-stained hands of a healer and a king - and a king Attendees to madness, they who light the great black fire Wherein one day nigh they will be cast While the kshatriya lights the Self-ignited flame To burn alive their hollow, craven hope of peace Those ripe to bring ruin to the world of profane creation Around whom such is an immortal silence born A greater silence when the dawn of fire comes Mere instruments of a boundless will divine Thus spoke the sun: “Tasmat tvam uttishta!” The heavy burden of the earth, thou justly cast to desolation Kshatriya thou master of the ascesis of power Standing upon mountains, as the sorrowful look on in mourning By a will transhuman, raise a prayer to total war

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 25, 2025

In the mythoi of all worlds, in all eras In the ancient rhymes of verse, ageless and hallowed Are the pure whispers singing of the end The heart of all the races past, who left us their words Beat in full knowledge that it will have an end As it had its primal source, both which the same A sacred bridge whose name is carnage and decay Bearing alone the footsteps of the gods Far from the rising tide of death Which follows dissent divine The final throes of entropy are sworn Bitter sleep of the sovereign sun Whose child from abyssal womb Will bless the seed of gold When echoes divine dissent, perceived below The race of earth will answer in antiphonal cries To take up arms with gods, a future bestowed Or perish in the earthly dust’s unbidden demise

Now father has set in flesh Great bequeather and sufficient cause What before was not, king of all effects Ruler of all creation Strife - all gods and men reveal Of substance thou art father War - here dictate by thy hands Bear the names of all births and deaths Strife - the nature of all agents Speaks in life’s anthesis Shall he remain man, or become a god In the conflict of all? Name the enslavers and saviours By one the other strife designates The bow would be left unstrung And the cosmos dead but for war To all things that find existence in conception Strife is the father of all in nature To all things acknowledge your monarch and king Polemos pater panton “Would that Conflict vanish from among both men and gods” The declaration leapt from Achilles’ tongue Would thou pray for the destruction of all moving objects? For even man and god are both born of war Source of the light and the dark Both share a stem in strife False - the error that they are two The harmony of opposing force To all things that swim in the current of creation War the baptizer and regulator To all things render your fealty in return Polemos pater panton

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

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Lay waste the earth on winged steed Exterminate in their thousands those thieves All those who dared to dress as kings And wear the raiment of mastery Tenth and final avatara, who will set the bounds of cosmos Great striding blood-avenger of the cleansing storm That sets ablaze horizons, entombing Age of Iron To sire those god-kings who will live a thousand years Lay waste the earth under steel hooves Quelling underfoot whom it behoved To sing the paeans of false parity Assuming praise for an order of nullity To those who will fall like gold leaves Heralds constituting the book of New Dawn Whose chapters may be written But yet whose blood will be the ink Exterminate all those bodies of men Who bear the name and designation of king Eradicate him wedded to hunger For soon his name will be ashes Extirpate those upon whose faces The fumes of vice are ever manifest Inhume those who left abandoned Their only worth when they forsook their servitude Who fire brings, and ushers in the new age And crushes earth with the great stamp of his heel Who winter brings, to purify the whole earth From all those by indolence swollen Who cleanses both of the world halves by truth Inaugurate the sons of gods on earth Blood revenge, to slay the wolf unleashed Which bit the hand of the august god of order

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 25, 2025

Those who see not that sword, that’s like unto a thousand suns The diffident in arms and unaligned Who drinking from the poisoned cup of the world illusion Will ever fall a prey to the conqueror As an aerolith that shatters the sky The superior nature shall discern all, above all The realm of that victory unvanquished Is that of the shatterers of illusion While those of the diurnal sleep Shall ever fall a prey to the conqueror Conqueror! Conqueror! Conqueror! Conqueror! A knife in the lotus of Aetas

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

As a beast who steals itself away at night From the fields of other fatted kine Who relishes the ripe fruit of his own distinction Without the slavering of lips of swine No mere matter of poor words He who crafts his own laws Whose right is lucid yet shadowed Remaining unbroken by wars Onward, onward to supremacy The reins he seizes of serpents Decisive, resolved in his will Who scorns the fangs of concession Beyond the sphere of thralls This heir to rule carries a rope, nourished by his own deeds To where those in toil dissipate their futile years With hammer and saw, constructing their own gallows Taking abode in oblivion’s hands Heirs, heirs to but loam Heirs, heirs to death

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025

To feed the ages which sup on rise and fall To make a blood offering to decay itself Did cast off Mars’ attendant, sanctioned white robes Besieged by the poisons of pure senescence Dry, without libations shall lie imperial soil Lest it be the sweet wine of its own demise Thirsting for oblations of blood upon its altars Lest it be the forsaken blood of its own youth Fallow thy temples of stone Thrown open to beasts Observing cold centuries Where no works are spared When the gates of Mars were closed and hands chained In the lap of a corruption more fell than arms To slake the ages did that empire fall For the past is pregnant with a future ready seen

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 25, 2025

This track is instrumental.

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