No Laughing Matter

Philosophy is my eye, mathematics my fist, An alchemical mind within a skull of mist. Skull Fuel. Death Moon! A cosmos made of herbs, A deep green universe, Where wooden hands embower, With splinters of their power, On ghosts' coat-tails I build my throne, In this intangibility I call home, Skull Fuel, Death Moon! With glorious abstractions how I deny the dark, My intangibility is my power, oh how I give but never can devour, Gonna grow me some light, a little blood red flower, There is nothing more heavenly than the death which dwells in the full bloom of life, They say it measures potential, forever we grasp for solids we all hope to digest, To invest in those vitals without which we can never rest, To implore the opening of the door, so we can be what we were before, So we can help restore the umbilical vegetation that held the world in the centre of the universe, When we were all the tentacles of God, when we all inhaled the purest cosmos, Through the finest instruments nature could provide, We didn't have to hide, we didn't have to decide – we just had to ride, But now it's all 'who is on whose side?' Don't let the sadness divide – let loose you alchemical side! Witness this golden brain, imprisoned in a body of lead, Whilst my impulse is alive – my fingertips are dead! On ghosts' coat-tails I build my throne, In this intangibility I call home, Skull Fuel, Death Moon!

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 26, 2025

Ah'am thi' Boggard. Ah am thi' doom. In t' deead o't neet – ab'll bi comin' soon. Ah wait in mi' 'oil, fer't passers bi' N'if tha' on thi' own – tha gonna dee! Sometimes ah throttle, or slithee throat, Than ah sit, on thi' sowl n' gloat! N' if thi' see mi' flickeri' leet, Stay away – 'ell's abawt toneet, N' if thi' 'ear, mi' gusty groan, Another sowl, is naw mi' own. Ah'am thi' Boggard. Ah am thi' doom. In t' deead o't neet – ab'll bi comin' soon. Thi' tried to catch mi' n' find mi' oil, But someone named mi' long ago! Naw ah belong, tat world o' form, N't new God's power, can't do mi' no arm! N' if thi' see mi' flickeri' leet, Stay away – 'ell's abawt toneet, N' if thi' 'ear, mi' gusty groan, Another sowl, is naw mi' own.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

I just took a trip into a bottomless well face to face with the madness that's been cracking my shell all around me, decay burning in my eyes I can see no way to save our lives Pray! I hear little children begging for relief I hear all of us say don't even bother me tomorrow it could be you tomorrow it could be me we're all in the same slimy boat and we're all going to sink Pray! See the children dying Hear the mothers crying It's a dark world after all, Misery inherent, happiness deterrent, It's a dark world after all. Hear the children calling, As the bombs are falling, It's a dark world after all, Hear the bellies rumble, As the cities crumble, It's a dark world after all. When was it that I first realised that Saint Vitus was not just a band, but a philosophy, a moral code, and a way of life? Digging through the waste of a tortured land you'll meet others, like you the last trace of man everybody's crying and everybody screams you will turn your head and say I only care about me Pray!

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 26, 2025

Me Man – Me Drink! It's a fuckin' fact! Teetotal is for twats, So don't be fuckin' queer, Drink thy fuckin' beer! Me man – me Drink! Yorkshire bred n' born, Puff-brew we will scorn, If a drink's not brown, It does not go down. There's no whiskey – there's no beer, If I don't drink – am I queer? Have no concern – have no fear, Who needs women when there's beer?! It's a fuckin' fact! Teetotal is for twats, So don't be fuckin' queer, Drink thy fuckin' beer!

They dance and they drink and they die and they doom, They sliver and they slide in the silvery moon, They boil and they burn and they blacken their bones, In ash-filled euphoria of monolith stones. They dance! They doom! They dance! By the light of the moon. Lovely in lechery, they lighten their lamps, Striking strange shadows on fey fog-filled banks, Evil eerie eyes measure mourning in mist, And a grunt garbled gruffness doth silence resist. Oh grey face at midnight with skeletal grace, Most hallowing spectres horn haunting this place, Corpse carving crazed runes on luminous skin, A stone sigiled sabbat which begs to begin, Strange mansions of the mind, Carcosa here to find, Come join our little ball, A King in Yellow calls! He's coming soon, We dance the light of the moon, Forbidden play, Drop that cross you silly man, It don't mean a thing, Out here in heathen lands, Lucifer is king! Tear this veil away, Act with us this play, What a strange thing to ask, Sir we wear no masks! He's coming soon, We dance the light of the moon, Forbidden play, Drop that cross you silly man, It don't mean a thing, Out here in heathen lands, Lucifer is king! You creatures of the dark I say, I cast thee light, now fall away, Blasphemers in the dark say I, I who oppose the evil Eye, You devils in the dwindling mist, attend the commandments that I list, Monster and hag that gloat in sin I purify the Devil's kin. The serpent spews forth called in the call, Of the bile black breath of satyricon souls, Nearing the nakedness of nubile nude nymphs, Who writhe wreathed in ecstasy on pedestal and plinth. Black metamorphosis, doth spiral into abyss.

An eerie night bathed by moonlight on the Keighley Moors A strange troop of men climb the hill again: folk lock their doors Lamps on the hillside – burning flames under crooked trees And the old rock flaunts its silence in the winter's breeze Come in child; don't let the devil in – hark not that lonely evil These are strange times in which we dwell Chorus: The Dark Brothers in the mist, Follow the lull of their secret tryst, For the great god Jarbulon An oath sworn on the Ashlar stone Light the fire and I'll tell you a tale of the times long past, When the rock was still so ancient; there druids sat In times of old in Brigantia's foldwhen the Celts held sway The great rock stood and drank their blood on the solstice day And in the Dark Age time when the Vikings arrived the dark rock saw Infernal rites held to the skies and the lord of war, And I heard tell there that under Norman's glare The Knights Templar came To pray to the baphomet and their dark covens make Its been many years since sabbats on the hill they reigned And witches laughed through the hoary nights devils to raise The grey stone sits in silence but its shadow looms And called the souls of evil men towards their dooms

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025

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