The Black Hand of the Father

The flames at the bottom of the concrete temple have nearly faded to dust. And Its disciples perform most obscure rituals, to mesmerizing chants. Oh great Father hear our prayers, Oh dark Mother shed your skin, Share your wisdom with your cursed kin. And as the moon grows colder, I witness the lion swallowing the sun. And in the fog, I see the Path long lost Oh great Father hear our prayers, Oh dark Mother shed your skin, Share your wisdom with your cursed kin.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025

In the fog, In this final moment. In the hour of damnation! By the rite, Of the white gold flower. By the light of the new born dawn. A red star shines, an evil presence. Like a parasite gnawing on our minds. Upsurping the will, feeding on the flame. Draining its essence, polluting the self. I breathe the dust of this dreadful place. The slow poisoning as the dirge continues ever onward. We merge with the consciousness of the hive mind. Our limbs stretched, Our bones mangled. Obscure deformations, Of our mortal vessels. A body fitted to serve only one purpose. Fragile flesh molded To adhere to the omniscient will. The age of flexibility Brought forth by our own twisted desires. Condemned by those of old, Who predetermined our destiny.

Submitted by The Void — Apr 26, 2025

And he who walks the chasms of the abyss is more likely to fall. As its cliffs are steep, And its pits are deep! From the most desolate place, The ominous walls are calling. The temple halls are screaming,.. The bell chimes,.. As they call forth! The eternal blackness, Home to their terrible father. Swimming on the currents of blackness, Feeding on the streams of unlight. In the eye of the storm, At the heart of darkness! Rooted in the sea of blood, Stand its infernal pillars. Servants clinging to the throne of their long dead masters. A circle of leeches with no host to feed on. Entangled by the rotting corpses of their dead offspring. Foaming at the mouth at the mere thought of self obtained purpose. They mutilated themselves!

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

Like the elder abusing the young indulged by blind cruelty. Extorting for pure selfish gains until all the light in their eyes is extinguished. And if they aren't dead enough you can always shoot them again. And you have to make them care first before you take everything away. For raping and unresisting victim is not quite as much fun. Torturing an unrestrained prisoner doesn't give quite as much of a kick. It is the extasy of the final breath that truly makes men come alive. The only way is the erasure of the other and completing the monogamy of ideas. They say machines are cruel... But this is only because their cruelty is a mirror of their creators. Living in agony.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 26, 2025

By the black hands of the father, The heralds of encroaching darkness. Move like shadows in this pale night, Under the cloak of his dark wings. Drawing upon most deepest hatred. In the well of the soul, heart and mind. By the black hands of the father, Calling forth a new dawn, driven by our shared malcontent. I rise the broken sword and plunge it into the burning heart. Carve the mark of sorrow and its payment is in flesh. An universal rot, Gnaws on our minds. Radiant madness, The futile pursuit. Like a beaten man, For once in his life, lapses into the aberrations. Which you have witnessed, With your peering stained eyes.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025