Rain Upon the Impure

An old failure is redressed Barred is all sight into the West Not to let us foresee what is brewing there Ripple... Silence is deceptive Hooves of iron paw An ancient silent fog To blur our castles' silhouettes To hide the gathering troops Black fleets explore the northern lines Fifty forts along the Rhine Fuming clefts cross Westphalia Command from Castra Vetera It was late at night when the bugle call resounded And blew forth a red storm To bear squadrons of Southern aggressors Transcending our silent banks now so rageous Ploughing the valleys in slobbering droves Foes in Sugambria! The ancient map is redrawn in blood Led by our once insurmountable waters We learnt that war has become art Within three years of suffering and barbarism Lamentamur Germaniam Inferiorem! The Northern eyesight is extinguished The Western limbs are dead The Southern torso is crippled East cannot defend.

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025

How long have I been wandering uphill? My lord, did you paint these meadows? They are colourless Roar... agonizing distant noise Look at me I kneel down before thee Bow my head Cover my ears Weep... This soil did never alter in two thousand years I wonder if it is you who hunts them - Or are they following me...? This is a burden I was never taught to heave... To you I implore, oh father! Take this noise away from me! Save me! Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow Limp as a doomed horse I resume my way In tears, on chafed limbs There is no herb to be laid Upon the stigmata of immortality's burden Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 26, 2025

"O Head of blood and wounds In pain and deathly scorned Arouse their bliss and rapture With a crown of thorns adorned."

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

Red moon returns... For the blood that dried on the dungeon walls For centuries of insidious estrangement That witnessed a slow disfigurement of pale faces Unfamiliar with perversions to desecrate Their pious deeds Red moon returns... To rip open the scars of the soul that vowed Laid bare for burning Like a process of moult Sanctified flesh breeds dense crimson fume And reeks... An eerie procession Descending into darkness godforsaken Intoning solemn psalms of sadism and malevolence Sing to sleep tormented bodies that writhe in horror Leave flesh ghastly perished, and screams fading unheard Red moon returns... Lets the mind be swallowed That addicts to claustrophobia Thus it is written in unread books... And may the bells awake the residual days Merely wounds are to be licked That weep with blood, not with wine.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

I am The wandering moon and sun The rabbit and the snake The virgin and the rapist My shadow The path of the mind's eye shall never bifurcate... I enter The church and the graveyard The storms and the rainbows The soul and the flesh My shadow The path of the mind's eye shall never bifurcate... I suffer The rotten lower skin The wandering moon and sun The sin and altruism My shadow (...painfully roaming the soil of the incestuous...) The bloom will fail to come I wear reflected scars Until I smash the mirror.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

My nakedness shall not ignite your lust... ...trespasser... Here, at the absolute end of your withered romances Heralds of the Great Jörmungand break at the North Massif And becloud your dwarfish horizon...

Submitted by The Void — Apr 26, 2025

You who first cast the stone Are you adorned with wings? How could you silently suffer The sight of your dreams' wreckage? Creature... Your harvest is poor Your soul bleeds Your eyes won't ever see When the bread is broken Wounds are nailed into your palms You who first cast the stone Where is the splendour That once you wore so proudly? Creature... Your limbs are weak Your path is short Your breath is putrid When the wine is offered Disgust is drying up your throat You who are without sin Who was to block the left hand path When it became the last resort? Actress... Your speech is mute Your tunes are sad Your voice will die down awfully The day heaven laments your failure With noise of rain (lashing down) upon the impure.

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 26, 2025