Jute Gyte piosenki

The spiders dead in their webs The birds fallen from the sky the monstrous putrescence, physical and moral, of everything in sight Silver strips of bone golden adipose tissue Striated rubies of muscle now obsolete The indignant refusal to countenance That whic...

Wilderness, authentication, and deleterious exploitation Resultant progress, alienation, loss Great deserts of black sand A people’s autumn’s Heliogabaline synonym Now pale and cursed to wander winter’s rise At the mercantile endpoint of Endlessness’s eye’s ga...

A pale dwarf-wraith keels over, fatally injured. Mouth gaping, revealing long, curved and yellowing hook-like teeth, it vomits a chunky white substance with the texture of curdled milk. It foresaw this long ago, but now cannot believe. Crimson patches darken a...

The cry essaying the waters; The autumn gale that bites the vine And announces the new wine. In the forest I dreamed of One hundred blossoming roses. A scent of sunshine Shields what is yet to unfold. 

Fled from the beaten tracks of men Blood coagulated with melancholy Black bile rising again Waiting for the heavy fall The tremendous weight The failure of transmutation In a fleshy tomb Buried above ground 

A darkness on the edge of town A flame burning through the forest Wandering beyond limits Clambering out on the precipice We cannot return What we have lost we cannot regain It cannot be made right again And so we are Wandering the world of ash Waiting for the...

The haunting sense of an unrepeatable unidirectional vector Modernity’s square pyramid’s base The day recedes Both joy and light grow pale Flowing irresistibly onward Where are those who were before us? The skeleton of a ship choked in its own sails 

An indescribable sadness hung over These shifting forms and structures. The hopelessness of passing time And the melancholy Of unalterable past events. Quiet over the hilltops now, Woodland birdsong ceased. Alone beneath the sky I stand again. Wait, w...

The irreality of the past, Its nonexistence; Obscured by reverberations in all directions Calling from across the rotting sea From an endless desert where nothing can grow. Smothered by what, in the mind, has grown so powerful and unbearable. Something...

The pathless woods The lonely shore The roar of the deep sea The occulted screeching of owls in winter The roaring of lions The howling of wolves The hopelessness at the heart of lust The light that hangs above the fields The church not made with hands Lost po...

Two hours of spiritual warfare: Hell’s great doors slamming one last time. From twisted girders and ash and silhouettes cast on ruined temples emerge the wellsprings of paradise. In the smoke that ascends forever I see God and Man united. Oh, Lord. This is the...

The past is dead A corpse cannibalized by the present To be regurgitated in fear and greed In endless justification and apologetics Human agency and its offshoots The years grind jumbled and broken Regret, nostalgia, grief-at-nothing Grief and sleep, combined,...

The old hills' indifference The paths that lay forgotten The skeleton weeds And the never-dry, rough, long grasses The ruins of presumed meaning The impossibility of stepping Rose-crowned Into the darkness The promise of equalizing putrefaction To return to th...

As autumn deepens and darkens I feel the pain of falling leaves And the silence of short days The deep oblivion of earth’s lapse and renewal The silence of infinitely open spaces The wandering through endless nothingness Careless years Precious days Oh, for an...

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the...

Blind tigers and mules. Trash-can fires and neon lights. The harmony of total murder. Black smoke like a veil over the stars. Earth worn out like a garment. La der des ders: the last of the last. God is love but life is cheap. 

The precincts of the city have rotted The work of giants is rotting away No coiled gold Nor splendors of the earth No ravening grey wolf No sad-faced man tasked with burial One easily divorces what was never united Body from body Particle from particle The wor...

A plague of nostalgia for a fictive past, Not merely dead, never born, is the most desperate form of escapism. Accident of birth, the pride of the insipid. Blood still runs, rose-tinted, Spilling on the red rock In starvation and waste In fanfares and...

The beasts arrive in waves. All are slain, infolaser rounds exiting their bodies from obscenely large wounds before extinguishing. Newer arrivals slip in the omnipresent crimson. Primitive weapons clash against one another as they fall to the ground. Wails of...

In winter we make the spring. In summer, the harvesting. I feel the nothing accumulate as days go by. I feel the weight of every passing sun and moon. In autumn we search and store. In springtime, we wanted more.