Idea. Form. Essence...

snatches of dim phrases appear sometimes like voices at big distance, when their chorus is united, like light and shadow. in a damp, misty darkness the round dances of smouldering lights are whirling and time is twisting endless spirals. stars are trembling in the eye’s flame, in the prototype of their essence, and red whirlwinds in a smouldering sky will embellish the crown of the worlds. behind the black gates the horizons full of unprecedented strength, like the deepness of magic mirrors, which the monks hold in front of themselves.

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Nov 07, 2025

the world suffused by universes overgrown with fungus of civilizations. the poisoned blood in the rotten veins of dying age. dried wells of wisdom, abandoned burial wounds of mounds of memory. bottomless rivers, born in the unknown depths of the black woods. to drown in the dead silt, and swallow the sinking truths. the foaming stream which takes you to abyss. it crushes your skull against the riffs, it brakes the ribs of slavery and unscrew the hands of your weak morals. born in the lies, you were fed with these laws. only after passing the mists of consciousness you will open your eyes to the eternal.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Nov 07, 2025

idea. form. essence, stuck in quagmire of darkness. a part of light, stained with mud, covered with herpes of the nightmare. in the well of truth that black star finds its reflection, the star, which sometimes arises over the ruins of thought. already on the brink of death, at the altar of perished days the past lighted its memories. from the pit, where now there is rotting and collapse, you are drawing with your weak-witted hands. deserted black world, the disk of sun chocked behind the reddened edge.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Nov 07, 2025

everything around is changing, everything is perishing without a trace. I am damping the day, appealing to the blasphemy of night. To the expanse of heaven like a bloody flourish of a whip, To the shining distance, to mysterious spheres. Hiding in thousands of deep caves, The call of burning centuries is alive with echo. In the dark the dust was covering blackening temples, And my thought was being squeezed and my flesh was being destroyed. Time is unwinding its reel, Plaiting miserable knots into the braid. Around me it is twisting loops of wolves, Tightening Chaos of Destiny till suffocation. All-absorbing evil and dungeon’s ice Pushes to the Abyss, those who stand their knees. Prophets and philosophers-slaves Rot under the rags piles in foam of fury.

Submitted by Morgoth — Nov 07, 2025

He started his way, having left the place, where the Law had been created, Where there is smouldering cover of snow, Where the first ray of fire is piercing the dusk. Nobody has chosen the way for the Gods, Having clearing the horizon of stinking souls. Dagger, fire and ice yet haven’t removed The crimson tracery Among hungry curs and snakes. Will the chest breathe the air among swirling worms? The way to Abyss is close. But even in the abyss of destiny We are catching at the edge of Death. And in a bright dusk of ravens flocks We are seeking with our hands borders of the Universe.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Nov 07, 2025

silence, well organized conspiracy of silence continues ensnare accomplices of crimes and their victims with sticky web of mutual guarantee.

Submitted by johnmansley — Nov 07, 2025

an oppressive and tearing memory... i like a damp darkness to crawl over. the heart and the mind will get shrouded in dampness. there is mud and dampness on dead plains, the whirlwinds spin there and winds whistle. my dark friend, running away from the warmth, will soar again, spreading his crow’s wings. to make up under rime, in the winter’s snow. under deserted expanse, in the rotten foliage. look at them! in a boundless blackness cattle is crawling, like worms through the grave. in a moment the mongrels will devour a part of destiny, stuck like a bone in the throat. in the soul there is an endless and boundless whirl, the space of night is the sleep’s deformity, which bounded the minutes of waking up. in the fog monstrous mountains of ice began to sparkle black.

Submitted by Grave666 — Nov 07, 2025