Praeparet Bellum

As time fades and solace wanes In shrieks beguiled clamoring profane To grasp the air that seres deranged From the darkest night unto blinding light Life does dwell as near estranged Panting for the spirit of day Festive sky, the spectacle remains Aghast with fright at the decline of might Haunted death in timed decay A future bereft, a charred world is stained The life of the blind shall no more crave The warmth of light deprived from the night

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025

As the dawn fades cascaded by haze Sillhouetted by night outstretched by light Behind the brilliance the darkness pervades Magnificence cast sight for the wretched blind As the wounds of heaven radiates it’s breath Unlit in it’s cast to a dreaming gaze A dying mass of infinite death Blossoms as time leaves this floral place The rose above discards love gained Leaving a haunted palace in disguise revealed Unlight slips away and the sun remains As the black orb drifts far mutedly still

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

The dead soul takes the live corpse into the grave In this land, always lost, nothing sacred is made Is it worth the while to cherish Hopes that will surely perish? Have we been condemned a life in vain? Is salvation of heaven only torment and pain? Is it worth the while to cherish Hopes that will surely perish? No goodbyes nor regrets to save Nothing desired, no invalid craves Blinded in black unworthy of name Begot for lack and dust into space In this land of the lost, of waste and disgrace The dead seize the living into the flames

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

In the morning light of the rising sun I feel the warm rays charge my life Breathing the fresh dew-filled air refreshes my soul, welcome Hearing the gentle whispers of the wind caresses my mind Fulfilled at the smell of roses so soft to see, and touch, I feel saved, I am saved, saved and free In the shade of night a rose withers among a stolen dream Inhale the cold and the stale, deplete my forgotten deeds In enchanted silence we fall deaf within our cries The acrid stench of death is me, to fall, to dust gone, I am gone, gone and free

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 25, 2025

Is this the end of unknown friends? A turmoil so wretched through a wanton maze Breaking past the haze of death and life On through to the other side of whatever waits Beauty stained and scarred The passing of a righteous way Cold in lust and warm in the earth Cascading heaven drips away Secrets shunned and then are hidden To claim a frozen plain Take the soft hardship And glimmer into the fade What light can rebound beyond an invisible gate? What shade can be cast in the absence of day? Danse to the west as the north creeps Reflect to the east as the south weeps Follow me to the realm of nothing Take my hand as a strangers care To a land desperate of enduring pain In the nights we die, this is the end

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 25, 2025

Upon this dusty soil, fertile and unclean Stands a wrath, taken by stance unjustly Driven on by human waste, a challenged, peaceful scene Driven on, on, and on Bitterness of betrayal, abandoned to flee Taken from a resting bench while digging deep Moving fast, ever onward, and without speed Venture forth, renewed discourse, kept by fallen pleas Driven on, on, and on Encased inside a forceful living tomb Righteousness and solace, willful solitude Desecrate the earth from within this womb Carefree for the careless from this hulking beast Holy ground, God’s will shall be done through me Blessed by the Almighty, I feel only peace Driven by an appeal to heaven while angels scream Thirteen circles of rebellion and countless dreams Moving on, seizing gambles, then treading deep

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 25, 2025

Death, dear, be proud, and all have called thee Mighty and dreadful, and thou art so For those whom thou dost overthrow Do die, great Death, and that may kill me To rest and sleep, thy pictures shall be Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow And soonest our best men with thee do go Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery We are slaves of fate, chance, kings, and desperation And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell And poppy or charms may make us sleep as well No better than thy stroke; and thou swell’st then! One short sleep past, we sleep eternally And Death shall be evermore, with Death, we shall die

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 25, 2025

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