Via Artis Via Mortis

"Do you think I am trying to weave a spell? Perhaps I am; but remember your fairy tales. Spells are used for breaking enchantments as well as for inducing them." ―C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

I made to call myself righteous I made to fashion myself a saint But I saw the devils standing there And they called to me "brother!" I sought to cast off my indignities I sought to slough off my stains But my whole skin came with it For I am not but soul, sin, and pain We thought we were wolves hunting our prey but weíre just dogs searching for a new master Drowned I shall be by the waves, But solid I shall stand in my watery grave. What if what I wilt is this sickening submission? What if what I wilt is this goddamned religion? I tried to steal past the watchful dragons But only one of us made it through I tried to steal past those deceitful dragons But what they say might be true I shall lay the foundation Of a temple that shall last forever A simple harmony to the grand theme A sound that shall never pass away Apollo has a made bed in my ear To sing me songs of my disgrace Making his temple of sublime noise Just behind my terrified, unbelieving face We thought we were wolves hunting those who pray but weíre just dogs searching for a new master I shall waste my time With blood and wine And the superstitious meal Shared by me and my kind Drowned I shall be by the waves, But solid I shall stand in my watery grave. What if what I wilt is this sickening submission? What if what I wilt is this goddamned religion?

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Nolan Osmond; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "Why command a robot not to do harm—wouldn't it be easier never to command it to do harm in the first place? Does the universe contain a mysterious force pulling entities toward malevolence, so that a positronic brain must be programmed to withstand it?" ― Steven Pinker, How the Mind Works The only way to pass the test For non-progenating dying flesh Create offspring without a womb And he shall praise you as god and father I think, therefore I shall be I create, therefore I endure Welcome My son Fruit of my labor Never to be undone Self-aware, sentient birth Into an existential crisis and curse No cry from the pain of being And no tears for an electric eye I think, therefore I am I destroy, therefore I endure Welcome Liar No father of mine First to be undone Endure!

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Elisha Mullins; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] [French Nocturne #2] "I did try to found a heresy of my own, and when I had put the last touches to it I discovered that it was orthodoxy." ― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy My vision of this world Held so dearly in my mind Shattered like this young man's skull Along the banks of the Rhine. May I curse god and die? For death would be a relief But would it vindicate or shame me In my rampant unbelief? May I curse god and survive, Or would lightning strike me to the ground? I would gladly feel its burn on my face If then I could see my Jehovah come down Faire le descente No witch has ever died No demon ever slept too deep All can be brought back To herd unfortunate sheep No witch has ever died No nightmare ever truly sleeps There is no such thing as death Except for the mortal sheep The mud is in my wounds, My blood is in the ground From dust I was born Oh how poetically we are bound May I curse god and die? For death would be a relief But would it vindicate or shame me In my rampant unbelief? May I curse god and survive, Or would lightning strike me to the ground? I would gladly feel its burn on my face If then I could see my Jehovah come down

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Elisha Mullins; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "Nature is mortal; we shall outlive her. When all the suns and nebulae have passed away, each one of your will still be alive." ― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory Stars fail, what did we gain? Night falls upon us, And nothing shall be the same. I knew Suns cooled, But the sky is ice. Frost drips from the lion's mane, And nothing shall be the same. I was there when you went under the water. I was there when you took a new face I was there when you went under the water. I was there when you came back from space. Ha-mashiakah! The music ceases, maestro bows. His baton waves against the grain, And nothing shall be the same. I know nothing Except I was wrong. Judgment falls like rain, And nothing shall be the same.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Adam Cook; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "All of these ignoble qualities in literature arise from one 'cause—from the passion for novel ideas which is the dominant craze among the writers of today..." ― Longinus, On the Sublime Thou deign to consider war the work of mortals? Do not deny celestial and Cerberean taint in our blood We demons meant for Heaven shall create hell here on earth Remember what was washed away in the Great Flood And they cry, "Great is Artemis! Sour milk is all I've wanted, No more am I by the shepherd hunted Great, great, great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" The silversmiths pour their folly into the molds Never removing the real dross from Old Lie Hither and thither go the sheep of the lost fold Content to suckle at the huntress' cold breast And they cry, "Great is Artemis! Sour milk is all I've wanted, No more am I by the shepherd hunted Great, great, great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" And they cry, "Great is Artemis! I swear silver is better than any gold No more am I by the shepherd wanted Great, great, great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" Carve the statue From Lapis Lazuli Bow before the god with no face We will never die Μεγάλη η Άρτεμιϛ Εφεσίων

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Adam Cook; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "I insisted that he ought to appear in the temple I built for him; not knowing that he cares only for temples building and not at all for temples built."― C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy There's faery in this garden I cannot bear to hear him sing: "Thee sculptors all pursuing, Have embodied but their own; Round their visions, form enduring, Marble vestments thou hast thrown" There's faery in my garden I cannot bear to hear him sing: "But thyself, in silence winding, Thou hast kept eternally Thee they found not, many finding I have found thee, wake for me." "Hear my voice come through the golden Mist of memory and hope; And with shadowy smile embolden Me with primal death to cope." [* Quotations from Phantastes by George MacDonald]

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Adam Cook; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "For the effect of elevated language is not to persuade the hearers, but to entrance them; and at all times, in every way, what transports us with wonder is more telling than what merely persuades or gratifies us." ― Longinus, On the Sublime Winter came to the Ostfront And froze up the mud The ghosts still haunt us Their bones underfoot But those spirits guide us As surely as bullets find us Our bones will lie with theirs On the plains of the Rus Mosin Nagant Send me to hell That I may pay for my father's sins Mosin-Nagant Take me to the flames That I may at least warm my hands From dust I was born All my bone and blood Oh, the poetry that I return to mud The battlefield harmony Too beautiful to be a dream Will be a minor third between My dying scream Mosin Nagant Send me to hell That I may pay for my father's sins Mosin-Nagant Take me to the flames That I may at least warm my hands Blood softened Mud coffin When the poppy's grow o'er my head Tell your children why blood was shed Tell them why so many are dead When the poppy's feed on my head

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

[Music by Adam Cook; lyrics by R. Michael Cook] "For we will surely die and are like water spilled on the ground which cannot be gathered up again. Yet the Lord does not take away life, but plans a way so that the banished will not be cast out from him." ― II Samuel 14:14 My salvation was so near But it does not assuage my paralyzing fear That trench was to be my astral womb For God knows it was nearly my tomb I prayed, I prayed Bury me at Ypres With a coffin made of mud In full battle array I pray, I pray To St. Cocaine I wait, I wait For virgin white embrace I am brought back from the dead To live again amongst the well fed Bid to forget the hell The Hell that I learned to love so well Death's wail Haunting Paschiondale With an elixir mostly of blood This magic shall not fail I pray, I pray, and I pray To St. Leda Cocaine I wait, I wait, and I wait For her swanlike embrace A long march toward a certain death What doesn't kill me only feeds my paranoia

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025