Ancient

In the long gone days, problems are solved fist-to-fist, sword-to-sword. No public mass protests. No mob riots. Every fucking dick and cunt settled grievances on a lethal scale, a battleground. None of those crap non-violence movement or whatever…

In the ancient days, when you do decide to take up sword as a group, you don’t do it in broad day light. You don’t wait for adrenaline junky press’ dicks and cunts to ensure your conflict is taped and shown around the globe. You don’t video fucking tape your roadside bombs’ hits and kills, to publicize around the world.

Hell no. In the ancient days, you simply go as a band of comrades, under the cloak of night, with torches and hooded robes. Bringing banners that sported your wrath and allegiance to the cold, unforgiving ancient spirits of the night…

Wonderful View XII

ex·quis·ite  [ik-skwiz-it, ek-skwi-zit]- adjective

1.of special beauty or charm, or rare and appealing excellence, as a face, a flower, coloring, music, or poetry.

2.extraordinarily fine or admirable; consummate: exquisite weather.

3.intense; acute, or keen, as pleasure or pain.

Visual Delights

What is delightful to the eyes can also be, sometimes, delightful to the mind....

Rebirth

Spirit of the Fire, Remember!

GIBIL, Spirit of the Fire, Remember!

GIRRA, Spirit of the Flames, Remember!

O God of Fire, Mighty Son of ANU, Most terrifying among Thy Brothers, Rise!

O God of the Furnace, God of Destruction, Remember!

Rise Up, O God of Fire, GIBIL in Thy Majesty, and devour my enemies!

Rise up, O God of Fire, GIRRA in Thy Power, and burn the sorcerers who persecute me!

GIBIL GASHRU UMANA YANDURU

TUSHTE YESH SHIR ILLANI U MA YALKI!

GISHBAR IA ZI IA

IA ZI DINGIR GIRRA KANPA!

Open the gates for rebirth, tonight!

Bored

Boredom can be such a persuasive thing. It can lure you and me, to do all sorts of interesting things. Like dying from being choked from your own beer-induced vomiting, for example… or trying the fun of shooting a stranger. 

Hell, why not try the new excitement by shooting a jogger, on a deserted street, near a blood red neon sign, preaching salvation to all and sundry. Lovely. No more boring nights.

Just a whole lot of death and insanity in the lock up…. What a way to end your boredom.

Wonderful View XI

Nemo Ante Mortem Beatus…

Weekend’s Here

It’s the weekends again. That momentous time that only comes once a week, where any cold blooded hunter knows it is time to sharpen some fangs, machetes and spiked boots.

Let the hunting begin!

Documentaries

If not for an acquaintance alerting me to it, I wouldn’t have bothered to think that anybody would actually make a documentary of the underground black metal-saga. But, I guess some do, and did it quite well too. That is, ‘well’ in terms of highlighting what I’ve always sensed it is going to lead to in the end.

Even without watching most of the documentaries floating about in the internet, I can already tell that it will end up as a brand. Years and years ago, when there was less fat around the belly, hairs around the mouth and scars around the limbs, all I ever dreamt of is to rid the underground of these trends. And boy-oh-boy, do I fucking hate the ‘trendies’ back then. Still hate them now, but not with the same intensity, spite and malice. At least I don’t go out hunting them down anymore… 

It was never about how commercially successful they were/are, but about how they have turned the murky, morbid and hidden nature of the music I was deeply obsessed with, into normal, accepted, everyday bullshit. It used to be out of reach, sequestered, just as this pathetic life was (and still is), so it felt ‘cozy’ to “be with it” rather than just listen to it…That is until all the morons who like to ‘dress up’ come along, and somehow make it ‘mainstream’.

But, hey, it’s inevitable isn’t it? Flocks of sheep always do need a signpost, a flag, a mustering point, to hang on for direction, rebellion, etc… no matter how little they actually know about the nature of that thing they’re clutching on. 

Alas, every now and then, there do appear those who seemed to know what the fuck this whole thing is all about. So fuck the trends, and long live the trends…

Tarantula’s Wisdom

[….]

the unhappy, the bitter and

the vengeful

need their

fix - which is

you or somebody

anybody

in agony, or

better yet

dead, dropped into some

hole.

as long as there are

humans about

there is never going to be

any peace

for any individual

upon this earth or

anywhere else

they might

escape to.

  [….]

something

is working toward you

right now, and

I mean you

and nobody but

you.

(Charles Bukowski – “relentless as the tarantula”, 1986)

Sliced heroes

I’ve always admired those who stood up courageously to try and change things that are ‘wrong’, ‘crooked’, ‘unjust’…whatever you call it. Mostly because, more often than not, they’ll always end up in some kind of tragic, bloody, pathetic death. 

Heroic death, as some like to call it. So fucking heroic they’ll write songs about it. Hell, they even create some bullshit story about how the hero will get resurrected, one day…

Reincarnated, in a new, pathetic, heroic pile of flesh. Survivor of a grim, long forgotten, severely butchered death.

Well, I don’t think this catharsis thing my doctor talks about, with this blogging thingy, is working well. 

I still crave the blood. The heroic ones..

Condensed

How do you condense all the best, the filthiest, the rawest of late 80’s extreme metal into one cup of juicy, tasty, addictive, adrenalin pumping cacophony? 

I suppose you just hafta let the Brazilians do it…No one else can come close. 

Not a single swinging dick.

Wonderful View X

Homage is now and beyond…

The Thing Is

So more shooting sprees have occurred, so what? More people going nuts over every day humdrums? More hate and more frustration spreading around the community?

The thing with hate is, you don’t explode in fits of rage or shooting galore if it is truly hate. Most of the time, you’ll sort of ‘implode’ and turn into an emotionless, pure grade hatred.

When you do ‘burst’, it’ll be in a suspended, white-heat, explosion of ever greater orgasmic vengeance, blossoming in full vengeful glory 

Fuck how I miss it all.

Genesis

I love you because I need to

pass on the spiraling genes

survival by all means

marriage, rape and cohabitation

I love your body because of my genes

spiraling for survival

at any means

war, genocide and traditions

I love the need to replicate the being

the nagging copy of my forefathers bearing

I love you because I love them that beckons

pass on the twisting genes

from chaotic waters

when love is primal and untamed

so shall I love you because I need to

pass on the chaos

the bane of cosmos 

AM 2013

The Rule

Have you ever get the feeling that everything is going down the drain, much-much faster than usual, all around you? It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong. It’s just that circumstances are rapidly moving to your disadvantage. Like giant walls squeezing together in all direction, closing up gaps and alleys that seem to have always been there for the taking, and yet never appear to be so important until they start disappearing.

It’s a bit exciting, actually. Slightly ‘claustrophobic’ for some I suppose. That is until you realize that it is not an exception to the rule. It is the rule. 

No gaps or paths last forever. Not in this blackened pentacle called life.

Silent Mark

As boring as it may sound, you just can’t ‘pretend’ with some types of music. Not with music designed to express the depths of a bottomless, lightless, primal pit, where one’s soul has crept into, in order to shun all manners of benevolence. No sir you cannot pretend that.

It’s something that just ooze out form the notes, the chords, the vocals works…Like dirty, brownish moss on a damp cellar wall. Small details yet with the unmistakable flair of a truly dark heart.

It’s almost like minute traces of dried blood, from a piece of sudaria, used to wipe the dried rivulets of a crucified pagan god.

Nope. You just cannot fake shit like this. It’s ingrained, like a silent mark on the back of your prey’s neck, as your burrow your targeting eyes on it.

Wanderings

As life continues to deposit its piles of mediocre, meaningless, and puny throes onto a person’s existence, is it any wonder why so many craved sex, drugs, smartphone apps, and many other distractions? Yes indeed, it is always a blessing to be able to wonder off, clueless and careless of life’s disgusting ebbs and flows.

Some needs blood to wander…some just need a little bit of quality music. An orchestral key to the unseen planes

Lullabies

Having problems sleeping? Had enough of those sleeping pills? Infested cunts and dicks?

Worry no more. 

Here 

Are 

Your 

Best 

Lullabies

Pairs n Riddles

I like pairs, and I like riddles too. So here’s a pair woven in a riddle….

If your fetish blossoms only on Thursday night, then here’s the slow-footed 1973 twin, of that poisonous ‘69 tail

Wonderful View IX