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THOREOUS LYRICS
"Posterity Of Fragrance" (2006)
1. Recollections of Fear
2. Intro - Exordium
3. The Admonitory Doomsday Memorial
4. Cultus Satori Enigma
5. The Age of Doom
6. A thought... intended by us
7. Posterity of Fragrance
8. Outro - Nahtod
1. Recollections of Fear
Mother! A son was born,
The nabob of the oars,
… And the last dark on terra:
The tentative draft of your posterity.
The fissure in my sleeve reminds me…
Massive eyes feeding…
The odd spring of dreams,
Discomfiting the cosiness,
And leading me into a vision
Of the final scenario.
I don't need a sundown,
To favour my interment of thoughts,
In my queer maelstrom of sensuousness.
Amorphus was anaesthetised by the amnion,
carving a lesion into my sanity…
No hysterectomy was enforced,
Before this numinous spawn:
I typecast the idols of Amor Fati.
Have eyes ever conveyed,
A deeper conviction to you?
Trepidation…
Vicarious evisceration…
The midwinter skies have collapsed….
Between the bridges …
Collapsed…
The hull of animation,
Coming off the embryogenesis,
Erected by the onset of the coitus
Where the formation of it is done…
Not playing for time to keep its hauteur,
It wears its blanched wedding gown,
A claret corset atop an indolent sable heart,
Meaning the demolition of my enshrined wit.
Mignon, will you be it, or not?
Will you be?
Or not ?
Never…You! You !You!
2. Intro - Exordium
There was this indefinable breath,
Mellifluous and suppositious absolute,
Absconded from the suction of lethargy:
…An odourless realm is puling…
Demise still lurks inside the Nemapogon,
For the close of my opus:
The revocation of incidence,
Of the rumbling of my yells going unheard.
The Scuff of cerebration:
My commotion is reckoned the trice,
Which heralds no solution to any matter:
When the verity of causation emerges a fake.
Framed in a cube of the cosmologic craps -
Its volume sprawling to a non-finite repose,
Right inside the winnow of entity and murk,
Where the light once gave birth to itself -
I am opposed the sixth the very mirror walls,
Building the core amid the substance of purloined creeds,
Searching for the luminous source,
Keeping the "Me" in my sense of vision.
Each rim incarnates a human sense,
Intended for the decryption of the Life Code,
The hieroglyphs of the creator's approach;
Undoing the cocoon of the "NOW"-experience.
Only the echoes protract my atrabiliousness,
Soared up to the firmaments of the ran aground surge,
Where he delivers his levied pate
the emesis of God's dispiteous sun:
The aureate man at the esplanade of his august world.
Bleeding to excess, enamoured by childhood memory,
I was fixing the monochrome nuance of the deepen red:
The picturesque hike: I am becoming…
The monolith of sterile hysteria
3. The Admonitory Doomsday Memorial
[Doom I: Internum - Creatio Ex Nihilo]
Inspired by the recurring escapism,
My Noesis dilated to imbed the parturition
Of my transcendent epitaph, rearward my temples:
The intrinsic antagonist of the Nisus formativus.
Finally it was done with me:
The palpebral fissure,
By the semi-somnolent susurrus,
Giving the pivotal mandamus!
What has become about all this?
There exists a bed to sleep in well…
Is there just no more philosophising?
No more ideology to score its offspring?
I'm still waiting to become aware!
In the doom state of the Neozoic,
I sag the shroud upon the world,
I'm not the strayed truth believer!
I suppose the Asylum to squire me,
All along the callous lane to clap,
Having caught the upshot into Nada:
The farewell pose I copied from you.
Amongst the canopy's cradle,
One abided splendorous eve:
The steel sickle of Cynthia,
Has not left the cleavage yet.
… Still urging to set off now …
Thus, I was adrenalised by the neurasthenia,
Whilst considering the weaselled narcotic -
The engaging butyrophenone dosage,
Craving the superior oneiric delirium.
The podium of the scaffold cant,
Appears… another devolution of pain,
Embraced with the embers of embanked elms.
I am the haggard smut nether the cenotaph.
"Vergib dir, edles Erdenkind.
Du hast den Wein von der Brust genommen.
Deine Sünde ist nur die Schuld vor deinerselbst,
nicht aber der Schmerz, den du dabei spürst."
"Blutschwanger,
von dem Gemach perforierter Augensicheln-
Es ist der Mond unter dem ich das Licht kenne,
Glocke einer stummen Weile
an der Mündung der Erhabenheit.
Du kommst mit der Angst,
bleich und ohne Blut an den Lippen.
Die Brücke kennt nicht die Stimme aus der du bist.
Nur das Licht, welches dich zeichnet,
wenn du wieder erscheinst.
Die Hure der Nacht verendet
mit Anbeginn der Dämmerung.
Du warst einsam,
wie ein Tropfen am Schafott geweint..."
[Doom II: Mortuarium - Dome to Exit]
Stop me! Stop me! Stop me!
They are drown off,
The last idyllic fragments of verve,
Since I ingested the mirage of catholic force,
A very last time in here.
As the supposition: the coming of Christ -
The revisit of the salutary phantom,
I dare to enter the tangible innominated sphere:
The recurrence of the shrouded archetype.
The dispelled are still waiting for me,
Ready to welcome another billow of aesthesia.
I am going to master the concealed hierarchy,
Uncovering the machinery of the cosmos…
Revived by the insistent episodic obsession -
The elixir within my delusion of life,
I was investigating the most utter trance,
Exploring the invitation of the subliminal…
Like the plume of the swan,
Being the prolific transmogrified dryad,
A posthumous dweller in my deepest somnolence,
Since ever before this time …
No other but me was the key to this …
Predestination of the master plan…
The surveillant of the Apocalypse…
Penned in the cathartic rites of ruin.
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
Relume the cause of sprout!
You only have to kiss my eyelids,
And take the lift to the starlight inventory.
You'll see…
After me there'll have had been
Nothing more obliterative than,
My adjudgement of the earth !!!
"Es war die Totgeburt dieses Gedankens,
vor dem Brunnen der Tränen fängt,
und von den Speisen die mich nähren.
Die Kost von der Nötigung an mir."
"der schwarze Teppich aber lodert,
unter dem Rinnsal des Weines"
4. Cultus Satori Enigma
It stroke me,
…and no flicker of the eyes,
Your words appear again and …once again,
Not listening to the sense in my expressions
I feel this to be another step towards…
Manifesting the nonsense of all in here…
- The epiphany of an untold inconceivability.
In what persists the expedience of my vigorousness?
Or does this irascibility embody the misappropriation of pristine talkativeness?
I've been on the march of anthropology,
Searching for the omitted paradigm shift,
The most wanted lack of investigation.
Discovering the inwards of the life enigma:
There was a deep tremor in my lack of understanding,
… And smashing amounts of exigence,
Consulting my addiction compared to analysis.
Therapy is only to redeem the acquisition of thought,
So my advertence erodes the unsoiled white...
Of an entire dream in vestal purlieus:
But … It's no return to the Nomos of age.
No dissection…
Only perturbation…
Not any night of life has crept in to last forever,
For all that its tentacles unperturbed forcing open,
My ecological recess of personhood,
Why must the lanterns in the lane,
Ever and ever haemorrhage their deliciousness?
…Of exhausting idealised worlds of emotion…
The crown keeps the time of lapse, of a deeply fatal aim,
Like the sadist, inviting me to close,
The stupendous gates of torture from inside!
On the Amerces:
One single forceful nod with invalid ecstasy,
That last gesture remained from me,
Laden with the qualms, if it's ought to be the Amoroso,
Of the welcome or the valediction salute.
Ascending the throne,
Out from the wallow of achluophobia,
An ophthalmic divestiture of glare,
Like the mandrel at the reopened wound,
Injecting the forfeiture state of virginity and nescience,
The eyes imbibing the pulchritude of masochism:
No other way to outlast the harbourage of lifeblood,
Adhering the dulcet provenience of the forked marrow.
Yet the sledge has already burst the Aurora,
And the conundrum of aeon still pastes my labium,
Ever to be a benchmark in my maze of acquirements,
Retrieving the repercussions in human expressions,
Of uninhibited, unconfined pangs!
From upon the merlons of vigour,
I internalise the prodigious malice,
Exuding from the heart-rending pusses,
Disgracing my poisonous will.
They crave the moppets of ravished parents,
Stalking the peace of shiftless laureateships,
Affording erratic preferable opprobriums!
And I envision their cavernous identities.
The streets seem so tacit and deserted, and…
I have never been a squalid, orphaned cellar child,
But the vicissitude on the rack of hope,
Proves to be so forlorn and trashed,
Just an unavailing waiting for
the sailing vessel to come for me…
The clandestine yearning was never curbed,
The avenues are thus disastrous dead and void,
Desolate the outset of a recent epoch of reclusion,
Accrued afresh from such an inimitable bareness, again.
One day we will meet again,
Reminiscing in the pipe dreams
Of its porous winches,
About our lost lives;
Buried in a small oak wood coffin.
Forever I'll stay my harlot,
The duteous stillborn identity:
Shagging me to smithereens,
To obey the profusion of the plethora!
Nudis Verbis
All this… ALL
Is nothing but the response, demanding from my command.
Erotemata
What's the origin of interest?
What's the origin of will?
What's the matter of identity?
What's the idea of arrogance?
What's the origin of matter?
What's the matter of origin?
What's the original matter of sense?
Are you really unable to conceive?
Misanthropy is not the epitome of genius,
And I am the answer to none of your godawful issues!
5. The Age of Doom
[Age I: Myosotis sylvatica]
Look at me…
Life has undone,
The euthymy of my time,
Become have I…
An implement of…
Evolution's euthanasia!
Morphe Morbus - The "Me"
My eyesight I was called to raze!
By the ampulla overdose
And the vein- cleaving razor slice…
…Skimmed amidst trough the carotid,
Besides, the aortae, precise pervaded…
Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!
Auta the blood vessels…
… Over polluted environs…
And unto shattered feet,
Allured by the sinister glee, vesting me.
Verily I say unto me, I am prostrating last!
What? What?
Can I demand from all their rancour?
Via me they took in,
the quest for the sanctuary lamp being useless!
…Useless !!!
Once, the quest for silence,
Inside the manifest of mine nous,
Brought back the hush upon my lips, too.
Shtum and lordly I behold the blaze…
…This very day !!!
And by now, the seminal momenta,
Bloodcurdling screams pervading the col of time,
Seeking this one ostracised word,
However, the hour of poetry has longest trickled off.
…Longest !!!
Before me and after me…
Precarious lanes…
Before me and after me…
Stupidity and waste…
Before me and after me…
Progeny's apostasy…
Before me and after me…
Alternately Day and Night…
Before me and after me…
No thought ever invincible…
Before me and after me…
Accouchements and withering…
Before me and after me…
Human eyes vomiting of fear…
"I saw you above the hills where the sunlight was -
taken by these eyes throwing a glance
at the midnight sky…"
"… Bring mir das Licht …"
[Age II: Myosotis scorpioides]
"…zurück in meine Zeit…"
"… and watched children laughing on the playground,
Was this no deprecation,
to denounce their ingenuousness? "
Before me and after me…
Impressive moons and suns…
Before me and after me…
Eerie sets of believes…
Before me and after me…
Unfathomable fondness and repulsion…
Before me and after me…
Gods are protruding upon the domes…
Before me and after me…
Defilement and reverence…
Before me and after me…
Endangered species dying in the pride of creation…
Before me and after me…
Not one unboastful day…
Funus Exulis - The "You"
… any of "You"
Forget me not…
Please….
Do not…
No…
Never...
Do…
Oh, let my words…
Let them cause an idea of me…
In your memorabilia
Only now….
Only here…
Be all ears…
Now …
Or never….
Or fuck your forget-me-nots
On the result of ecstasy,
No accession is contained for me…
If changes occur… to the battered frock of life,
It changes from day to day, in obnoxious sordid details
Desteny?! - It was such a wonderful day,
Blue glorified and with an idolized cheer sparkling;
Encountering your covetous pliant smile,
Through the masquerade of that tyrant,
In your exuberant fervour compared to me.
…Compared to me !!!
The travel until the gloaming,
Bestows me the winks of my sojourn,
At the barrier of my bitterish agitated melancholia,
To try once more to understand,
How all this ever could have happened.
How? How? How?
Then:
lapsed Light…abyssal gasps…farcical fare…raging pomp
Walls vomit haemo-strands atop the aperture of guilt,
They acquit me of plaintiveness
about one devastated world,
Sunken eyes still gestate
the innocence of bespoken subsistences:
The guestbook of life is ready to write history:
The picture book of dolour is born;
telling some creative obsequies…
But still I'm sparkling by the unspoilt state,
Urged to unclose the ludicrous rite of passage,
The surreal stadium of the self-destruction-
The era of lifetime modification.
Stalking in dapperness of its arrogance:
Venerating the leontopodium.
I'm the mentor of the posterior world,
The proud idol in the afterlife…
So hello me to the netherworld!
And I'll return to elaborate on this!
Take it…Try it…Annul me…
Life is beautiful!
Whilst you still handle the intangible miss,
I handle my acceptance of this self-perception!
In hoc signo vinces
In pectore
In perpetuum
6. A thought... intended by us
Versteckt im Chaos stochert der Schmerz,
mit seinem Blute umher.
Dunkle Schwaden von Pein umnebeln allein den Stachel,
die saure Atmosphäre soll ihn langsam zerfressen - ihn vernichten.
Doch der Schmerz gibt nicht nach.
Es denkt sich schwer im geistigen Delirium,
mit dem Schmerz des vergangenen Augenblicks
in der Kluft der Eigenständigkeit - eine wahre Tortur.
7. Posterity of Fragrance
Dunkler, dickflüssiger Saft quillt
aus dem glänzenden Metall hervor,
entrinnt ihm unaufhörlich -
nicht kalt - nicht warm,
er ist einfach da.
Ein dünnes Rinnsal sucht seinen Weg im Nirgendwo,
lindert die Hitze auf der schmerzhaft durchsiebten Haut.
Es beschreibt das Gefühl der beginnenden Ekstase -
der Schmerz folgt mit jedem Tropfen
Im Spiegel über mir sehe ich
ein verzerrtes Gesicht in sanften Augen,
in ein Kissen gedrückt - der verzweiflung nahe -
unter der einsam flackernden Flamme der schwarzen Kerze.
Fahles Mondlicht streift mein Werkzeug,
folgt der Arbeit und belohnt sie
mit einem prächtigen Farbenspiel.
Ein Wechselspiel der Wirklichkeiten -
reiner unschuldiger Körper mit verkommener Seele,
oder nicht?
Ein neuer Stich, eine neue Wohltat.
Es scheint alles so wirklich,
lange kein solch erbärmliches Erleben
wie es sonst nur der Kreis der Gedanken hervorbringt.
Er fordert eine neue Welle des Bombardements heraus,
jede Faser stöhnt unter der Wucht
dieser entfesselten Brandung auf.
Der Körper will sich entgegenwerfen,
doch ein unsichtbares Band hält ihn zurück,
will ihn auf das Ende vorbereiten.
Es sieht so wundervoll aus,
als wäre es nicht für unsereins bestimmt -
doch der Schmerz wird ein Teil davon.
8. Outro - Nahtod
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