Misanthropomorphic Funereal Hearts.. (Ashes II) It's all foreseen in our sad-serious eyes Foreseen in our sad-serious eyes... plah. monstered in april 23th, 1003. written by wolfram winterfur. And by the way out Despite some raven-hearted rants We never lost the thing we never even had da big bang analogy originally by someone i cannot recall im sorry ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Open the Veins of Heaven We mocked the christian god Just by living deep our lives We saw sin in them both With our death-praying eyes.... Midwinter, 1002 - 1003 - -- --- --- --- --- --------------- --- --- ---- ----- To Those Who Inflict My Demon Pride On cinnamon welkin walk I wail Slowly pacing I drag my tail Evening crescento, saphenus knife Mourning event to monster scythe Enough to crouch and leave the shade Life is joy with elated blade I tear and bleed tears in storm of hail Those who'll try to hurt me will fail With shattered paws the course is set But mistiness has not come yet Ebriety lucidus mounted in Me Sweet morphine-like little synergy Estranging blood from my corpse To gravish ground go the pouring hordes So what is life with blood so great Those who'll try to kill me will be late Death-beauty licks and ravishes me all day Not instant clobber, but stitchs in the way Verbloten soothing into gloaming grey Nightwalk mending all disarray To best is predated real-life snuff For life tastes good with cuts wide enough December, 1002 -- --- ---- -- --- -- --- ---- --------------- -------- ---- -- -------- Country-Dark Wolven fur felinine enough to stand the ruling queens Fist to face the dead perfect celestial dreams Featuring tailed angels performing animal orgies Her plays they are all country-dark Even rain to the point of bathorian bath Might splash too far from enough One wolf down, one girl downcast Some splanchna over the girl's wet gasp There she has me finally and at last And when there would be another spill Of spangled red for all mouthfill She finds out she's only lying... still In our majestic nature mansion of the fells With one woody panel to sleep and nothing else She's bad alwright, but not on this side of her realms The urge is strong but she has no talent The dirts keep coming to keep her soul malevolent But she has no soul... nor mind so fiery and fervent How she now feels stupid ("stupid girl...") and severe Planning the loathing of life she doesn't care She keeps thinking just to hang in there Just to hang in there..... Soft not raspy, fine half inch cotton blend German angst so away, not much there not to end the rend So even in her nightmares she fantasies Of Her descent If she succeeds and makes her cat corpse believe Will she wake again to sleep some more eve? For she does have it all dark indeed DOESNT SHE? To nightly rainbows she goes to give grasp and tongue All dust in dusk but does she give a fang Only seeking those rainbows to hug... or from one to hang January, 1003 -- --- ----- -- --- -- --- ---- --------------- ------- ------ -------- Experiments With the Fires of Hell We spat on the thing called life Just by cutting deep with our knives For us that was the dive Foreseen in our sad-serious eyes January, 1003... i want to make this stupid line much smaller... -- --- ----- -- -- --- ---- ----------------- -- ------- --------- Rants & Ravens She used to cut three times a day Her claw aching to infil - trate She searched for ne - farious groups, A parlia - mence from the rainy rooks Days refined with early trials Only the blade gave her real smiles To me she didn't do other harm For "obnoxious wolves have certain charm" Some strange musick, some strange grin The backward trancing that drew her in Eves in suicide ideation to explore Midnight days over and over norsecore Love by night, sex by the earliest dawn Die by day Dead crow on an evening lawn Everything we see's cruel Give by right the sign of a horn Or two In blood mist We kissed Lost our lives for each other We did resist to exist Scented ember of burning death smother Could it have poe - tical rhyme - A - po - ca - lypse of man design? The chosen sceptic, septic belief Taint free art in mason - ry We lost and lost the will to live For are we chosen by our will Could we please have end by nigh For we are chosen, we are chosen by the will To die Everything by our eyes is cruel Even sweet clouds over cruelly sweet moor There we lay bypassing winterian rule Feeling not cold Only a little cool The mist took away the most of tense Yet our will was still unfulfilled, hence... There we sat waiting some presence To complete our imperfect miseries' ends "God, I want to fuck her" "So... you think God's a girl?" Or maybe the will of god just isn't what it used to be Maybe that big bang was her blowing up her brains That way she could have won We lost... ... we lost our will to live We chose to away that life to give And I chose to refuse to let me lie Be - cause I know, I know one day I'll die late winter, 1003 -- ---- - - --- --- -- --- ---- -------------------- --- ------- --------- You are not important We mocked her who was death Just for letting us to live She should have taken our breath When the offer was ours to give February, 1003 - ---- - ---- --- -- --- ---- --------- --- -- ---------- Wolfsschluct's Wick by 'suentuskaa' Dear enemies of mine This is for Her with I could play death for a few eves And then die Let us pour every tasty glass, Make our blackend blades smile Let no human bar our trespass For we do want to live, but only for a little while Let us make a little journey Through the evening woodlands Let us act evil, strange and corny Let us express ever-prolonging teen angst Let us mock the christian laws, Commit a pawful of sins Let us worship stupid demons And give other humans inept grins Let us feast on the graveyard, Hug with gossamer wings Let us make infant bloody art And speak of stupid things Let us embrace life Like seldom done before And then let us die To not wake in this world anymore March, 1003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Night And Snow" The Day Jehovah Found Darkthrone: The black suicidal god in Satan's songs Rough colours mounted the evefull of trees Perpend shot straight to the airs My mist, she thrashes all over with breeze Continual addiction to despairs Remembrance in trance via sun upon steel Evenfall to outrage the virtues Her twisted mass summoning fun-e-real Freeing shy raccoons from the rules I TAIL HER DARK AND DARKLY REMARK SHE'S FRAIL AND INCOMPLETE I CUT MY TIGRESS DEEP LIKE A SHARK TO FEAST ON THE THROES-BLOOD SEA Wrest in darkness Lest she had nowolf to care She's a dark goddess only to me Then who swoops the black god to her When she feasts upon mundane creed Fading greens climb to take over the woods Oaken arms let one blind spot see One broken cat along swiftly shifting moods She is still drawn for me If I kill, does she still troll the wolf, die whispering Satan's songs? If she dies, do rats still rule mice and dragons soar high above unicorns? Retarded Messiah and the precipice Can His kingdom cum and fuck up like this Depressed Lord as a satanist Even upon His first hangover He wasn't this pissed Suicidal God with a licence to kill Makes everykill happen to fill His will Except that by the sunrise over locus mortis He shoots at Himself only to miss World's worse unhung Eat clover, fear maid of kills When lack of shells, take many pills Only users lose ducks And gain lots of more crimson rainbow hugs Damn you... Self-educated monster in suicidology Carpe canine, swish and sway Blend your fur with Me and pray Dye a not-a-wolf to night and snow from the grey March... (...1003) --- ----- ------ --- --------- --- -- ----------- Angels High fraternity of desert ants' deserted core decadent cadence as a decade before prizes of claws, rawly they then tore o'er scars to the iraqi war one vanguard wretch with all the valentia in a world lies down a sketch of the purgatory trip grown little cold and simply fulfills its holster upholstered with mould so goes the borderline war uphold March, 1003 -- --- ---- --- -------- ---- -- -------- -- -- ----- ------ ----------- Go Go Graveyard Girl Spread the sword, pollinate daemon dust They're on the way down to earth (You are BUT DO YOU MUST?) You don't have to wait for Saturn to learn Martian arts Our wine together left to mature Glue for a fortress of cards Master plans in the chaos dungeon Richer than many folklore Venom-spirited walk in sand mansion What were the sands before? A suicidal friend on funeral's arms This fight was left to get her Where windhearts go to leech the psalms Ravenmarch spit in the weather Jewsis saw his paradies Humanmade puny broken idol She although believed all lies They're Cats who Make Us Suicidal Speak of funeral hearts and funeral hearts come They bring dead lost lovers to silence your tongue Her own collection of girls she loved The purpose of living just crashed by She realised not to vex her blood For doesnt it always take a lifetime to die? April, 1003 - ----- --- --- -------- --- ---- ------- ---- -- ----- ------------------ Sly Brown-eyed grief left the little thief There was a time to stop the bandits A life short, brief left a moment of relief Young raccoon mind open, candid It's a vile world or so I've heard And I'm coming to You through Treasures pearled, our lunch is served In the hunger of night we are cruel When done is the task, his chronicle's grasped There is a sequel for us all Our love for dusk come together masked Let us keep thievings tall Sleek and sly and open wide With You I feel so free!! Dear sodo-mine, we bound to die But his paws never betray me Bounce and leap, so slyly creep He knows it, my last wish The promise of you to keep Only to hug so deep Among the shivering rain of this magical hostile world.. we kiss Barrels of fun beyond the light of the sun Traps and lasers make inebriated twist Of how many dan we fight and run And in the midst of the mist of the lavender crisp I love your violence The creeking grey and our perfect fist We chew our beef on the dew, little thief They're adventurous ventures overall So when we are gone someway too feral I fear I have to be gone, too In the watermarked orphan raccoon funeral I fear I have fallen in love with you... April, 1003 - ---- ---- - ---------- -- ----- ------- ---- -- ----- ------------- Leikkiä sisarusteni verellä There she lies on the ground, beaten, naked I tie her hands behind the back of her furry body There she lies panting, painfully raped She knows she's going to be damn bloody I bind her feet, kiss her vulpine lips So quiet and peaceful her every writhings Gag her muzzle, give her some more kicks I caress, lick her every inhuman inch She cannot escape, yet could she even try But her breathing quickens as she sees my whip She starts to struggle hard but she's still tied tight And after several harsh cracks the whip's red tail begins to drip Her desire to live thoroughly makes her miss The death. So there she suffers to die... All this fades away. How damn ironic, lil'sis But I enjoy seeing you now, bleeding yourself dry ...really Spring, 997 by the title "Echelons Dry". This version in April, 1003 -- -- ----- --------- --- --- -------- -- -- ----- ------ ---- ----- For us, the DAAAMN funereal-hearted His second sin was murder wherein robbery was the first Vengeance was his hunger and thievery his thirst Advanced in leap all day and to sleep he may I bet his hell tastes raccoon in a desperate bay Strangely I like his colour of magic and stone Where rest of the sword wisp shall blend with my own These worlds are the cruels to banish We're to strike hard and then vanish Between daylight dusk and dawn substance That little devil, he knew I'd find romance Was there any alternative at all to appear I bet he knew by heart I would find him.. here Cloudlike skies... no. Azure clouds Painted night, stormed with silent shouts Now with tamed muzzles, flamed rose Wet eyes guzzle the love so gross This has to be the end of vampire stories And the interlude for the grounded mournings His deary fox fiend doesn't scare me-whore Who once dreamt of sabretooth tigresses... raw Like hammering nails in the drenched lumber We let her pass fairly well the distant somber Our still life caresses the vixen treat Grieves crawling, leaves fallen on our feet By judaic lightning their attraction is broken Self-abasement, her wine drips oaken Weasel-cute ears made dark furry art Encoring our life with one more funereal heart Al-jazeera-like techno turtle imagined to mill As I made a promise I have to kill And some twisty relationship mess to thresh But we will get upon it sworn by dead animal flesh! And then let us get ourselves so fucking drunk For fun, to endure our every fear and funk With tasty catstickers let go of freefall cares Let us kiss each other in the portentous airs Sweet kills and dungeon music We made war with no intent to accuse it The Fiendish Five'll succumb to our hate Not to mention our succulent love, Procyonid mate! So we wore gloves and mask under sly life Hooked, plucked the enemies' lives to survive His scenic animal beauty, the scenery for us Us savages ravage the evil empire in love to rush These are the yearns that matter, my thief I'm ready for the rain, and for the still death cleave That matches the little hurricane with a masterstroke tail And the dirt-weathered eyes and paws that'll never fail The esquiremind of the cold espionage journey You are by twisted blade especially Inspireal, d-sired, fur-covered and all Scarwood giggles making the bluest of rains warm Puckish'coon with a short history in creating downfalls And almost as long tales of heart-piercing dolls He's like laughing night when the dusk settles in And charming autumn grins that hold sweet vecordia within Every longbow archer aside Hoping for a long-distance fight Galaxy gazing us, an ineptitude No raccoon-haired guy I've seen this cute Let it stare and be aware of the autumn-flavoured vendetta For we do stream a little more than a wintry river together Primacy of the privacy soothed grey Heat, it kills dreams anyway No matter if he's the end of the bloodline As long as he is cruel and he's sweet and all mine With my muzzle I love to make him tingle Grant cattish hard-ons, pleased to forget being single This worlds' nights are sad enough for scythe play Far beyond the moment of revelation that it's a damnidum day! Sometimes we end up weeping under the sun And sometimes bleeding tears just for humperdumperdidofucking fun April, 1003 --- ------ ---- ------ ---- --------- ---- -- ---- -----