Images From the Shady Gallery
Let me unbind your mind With my brazen blade Let me cut you deep to bring out The truth that you’re afraid Bring out your dead Bring them to the fire Bring out your dead Bring them to the night Bring out your dead Bring out your desire Bring out your dead Bring out your dead Let me show your fear Let me show your grief Your forbidden passions Your repressed tears Let me show your secret love, Your pain and your belief Let me show the caves inside your cliff The interdict of the death will be The only law to break The transgression will be shown As the only way to take Let me make you hear the voice Screaming inside your head It demands you to bring out your dead The seduction of the cadaver Will lead you and make you see The horror of the body Will finally set you free The interdict and the transgression Together as one Life and death forever will be
Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025
The waiting darkness holds things, deep into the colors of dream Living tones of suffering, hidden shades of sadness within Blinded by its painful glimpses, I can see It flashing back my life The waiting darkness holds things, shining on the blade of my knife I’m the shoemaker I know how to heal your disease I’m the shoemaker I will put your anguish at ease The mournful sounds that I hear, ghostly symphonies of the past The weeping tunes of my fears, dying lips expiring at last Dancing by the silent music, I can hear its dreadful voice again The mournful sounds that I hear, harmonies of steel, blood and pain Hear the shoemaker Words of delusion and hate See the shoemaker Pictures of a man and his fate In the dark Dying woman crying weakly In the dark When I love, I love too deeply It’s all gone (The Voice from the Pit): Life isn’t fair It’s all gone (The Voice from the Pit): But death and despair I’m a slave Killing for my sacred mission (The Voice from the Pit): Kill for my joy I’m a slave Of nightmares and hallucinations (The Voice from the Pit): Live to destroy (The Voice from the Pit & Charlie the Head): Kryos Mary Krystos Kryos Krystorah Kryos Mary Krystos Krystorah Krystorah I’m the shoemaker The last note of one sad symphony I’m the shoemaker The final verse of my elegy
Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025
Live is to decompose slowly You cannot stand it, but it’s only fate They say that you are what you eat I say that you are what you defecate You try to refuse what life reserves to you But bounded to the flesh you are born Slowly you’re coming to the very end Your final act performed to the worms You try to escape into a fantasy Deny the animal inside you But it’s crying, claiming to be free To change the whole life that you once knew No hell, no heaven, no eternity No supernatural being, no Great Plan Back to the womb of nature you can be No god, no devil, just a man There will be no more prisons to hold you in You are free now, and still it’s not late You go on, discovering possibilities When you show the world what you can create I wanna be my own God I wanna be my own God
Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025
I. Meditations How can I be sure about the world my eyes are seeing? Is this all the truth or just some kind of coherent dream? What if there’s a deceiver god who’s playing with my head? How can I be sure if I’m alive or if I’m dead? There must be an evil demon that is pleased to hear my cries Corrupting and seducing me to believe in all its lies I shall no more be deceived by what remains impure I will fight the doubt and in the doubt I will be sure II. The Four Rules 1) Evidence: Only accept the undeniable proof 2) Analysis: Dissect the fact to find within the truth 3) Synthesis: Put the pieces together, side by side 4) Remembrance: Nothing to omit, nothing to hide I walk masked Through the valleys of ignorance mist I doubt And that’s the only reason why I exist I walk masked And face this nasty urge to believe I doubt I think, I am, I meditate, I live Cogito ergo sum Cogito ergo sum (sum res cogitans) No evil Shall hide The Truth Free Will Shall be The only law I think, I am, I have a choice: I believe! Res cogitans
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 25, 2025
Sleep tight, my unborn child Sleep tight, sleep tight Sleep tight, my unborn child Sleep tight, sleep tight Close your empty eyes, my child, close your eyes and dream I’ll be close to you, I’ll hear your silent scream Won’t you cry no more, I’ll wipe off your dry tears It is not me you fear Sleep tight, my child
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025
Por esse pão pra comer, por esse chão pra dormir A certidão pra nascer e a concessão pra sorrir Por me deixar respirar, por me deixar existir Deus lhe pague Pela cachaça de graça que a gente tem que engolir Pela fumaça desgraça que a gente tem que tossir Pelos andaimes pingentes que a gente tem que cair Deus lhe pague Pela mulher carpideira pra nos louvar e cuspir E pelas moscas bicheiras a nos beijar e cobrir E pela paz derradeira que enfim vai nos redimir Deus lhe pague
Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025
Vinde a mim, ó Verme tão cálido, A meu corpo lívido, Primeiro repasto. Recebei, ó Verme tão tépido, De meus lábios castos O beijo mais pálido. Devorai, ó Verme famélico, O naco mais sórdido, O corpo estático. Concebei, ó Verme tão lúcido, Em meu ventre oco O filho mais pródigo. Celebrai, ó Verme endeusado, No templo mais pútrido O culto mais sacro. Ofertai a um Deus sifilítico A hóstia de Carne E o Pus consagrado. Verme feito Deus.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025
Pássaros mortos cantam em sinfonias em algazarra fria e muda, o Sol raiar O velho louco ri e se inicia Poetas cegos cantam em versos livres toda essa agonia que a noite me dá O velho louco ri e pressagia O olho vazado da melancolia fita o ponto cego que não há O corpo morto sobre a cama fria Ouvidos moucos ouvem a melodia dissonante da agonia que me dá O homem morto ri na cama fria Pássaros cegos voam em harmonia rumo ao fim de tudo que advirá O coração morto bate em sintonia Poetas loucos cantam em versos certos todo esse deserto que me tomará Sombras no céu ao Sol do meio-dia A morte espreita nas sombras do Sol do meio-dia O medo da morte é que move a vida que há O amor é o medo da morte do amor em agonia pra ressucitar... O amor é o medo da morte do amor em agonia O medo da morte é que move a vida que há A morte é que move o desejo, o amor, a poesia pra recomeçar...
Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025