Friday, May 23, 2014

V

from the sky clad empires emerges a beam of light
whose destiny is to seek its consort into the depths of the night
a tortured passenger with a sign to deliver
into the hearts of the blind - the mark of the deceiver
restless it descends and density does envision
trampled under the ongoing surge of division
ten messengers to carry the godly stream
yet one more to put an end to its gleam
a demiurge's dream to dance in the sands of animation
with countless masks to satiate his lust for replication
how many numbers will he adorn himself with?
how many ceasing breaths to blow the winds at his feet?

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

IV

burden of memories, nostalgic rehearsal
of dreams once so pure now torn in reversal
the sorrow buried deep under the footprints left on sand
of a desert in whose landscape my heart is doomed to bend
oh, cringing voice, thine screech announces facts so dire
of all things held dear, of ashes washed in fire
a drop of blood enlivens the pallor of my cheek
the chamber of shifting phantasms - my only home to seek

waiting for centuries to see its enchanting dawn
the dreamer went old and blind and his longings gone
the fountain of his youth - besieged by foul mutations
where are his noble songs - now dreadful incantations?
standing at his feet, covered by racing years
lies the pearl of his soul, a parchment sealed by fears
the ink was spread with tremor throughout the golden script
inscribing keys to wonders dormant in heaven's crypt
no longer is his gaze a witness to this earth
for he had seen for aeons the shadow of rebirth
a crawling king bursting through the vacuum of creation
his crown - a field of thorns - proclaiming his damnation 

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

III

deep fervor, passion in disguise
an ocean unfolds in G's flaming eyes
a longing born of lust and love
silence - its guardian of the beneath and the above
through endless halls and distant chambers
riddles carry my passion's flavors
the angel's gone through veils of fume
my burning desire these years they all consume
as the sickle once stabbed the mighty oak
longings - bleeding marks in my soul they evoke
my dear's whispers are carried with the hearse
my life so tragically they disperse
nocturnal pursuit of the chimeric lord
K's eyes Lucifer's power behold
the blue mirror they carefully extend
the view of my damnation they present
in union with Satan's lord my body lies in fire
sweet venom of flesh and blood, to Sheol we aspire

Monday, December 16, 2013

II

falling shade through depth of sorrows
reversing wheels of ruined tomorrows
hermes smiles while the wind unleashes
horrid landscapes and broken wishes
the crow dives deep unto the remnants of being
the discord conceals the fruits of seeing
the god within is evoked in the thunder
the rays of the sun split the self asunder
myriad of cries and unholy visions
torment the mind with hopeless decisions
illusion casts its masks of death
while identity purges its last breath
the blackness of heated substance spreads within
as the putrefaction dance is about to begin
the eyes watch in darkness with fierce severity
the king is absorbed in its expanding futility
the spark is congealed in the wisdom of the nether
while the fool casts aside a kingdom for a letter




I

A plethora of unrealistic aspirations, wild dreams, bizarre affinities, crude uncertainty and restlessness. Sight dipped in dread, hearing attuned to that most vile, smell dragged through most exotic perfumes. Yet not of earth. Bewildering imagination, enhanced in its active state, climbing ladders to mounts unheard of. Yet it would all dissipate in a liquid fountain of acid. The yearnings of a mortal punished in their defiance of death. Wicked slumber, in essence thy being dissolved. Desires melt like heated lead, emptiness fills the lifeless circle. No suffering left to ignite joy, a mad laughter soon to fade. A chapter written with shivering hands silencing its echo. Its writer dwells in the uncreated. Casting aside each memory as a horrid torment, yet his scent still lingers.




Thursday, May 30, 2013

Head of the Demon - Head of the Demon (2012)


(English / Română)   
 
      This young Swedish assemblage has emerged from the vault of atavistic horror, carried on waves of surreal dread and morbidity. Although I am quite reluctant to discover new bands, my attention was immediately drawn to the peculiar name, and the cover made quite an adequate introduction to the things about to come. 

       As soon as I put on the promo track Phantasmagoria my mind was enraptured by the bizarre turbulence and mantra alike howls, as if I was contained in a subterranean tunnel surrounded by apparitions of the most vile kind. By Titan Hand has an oriental feel attached to it, merging its potency with the overall magically loaded atmosphere. They Lie in Wait - Riding the Waste emerges in a mysterious manner, sending freezing shivers with its haunting whispers, enveloping the light in its sulphurous vapors. The sudden rhythmic shift towards the end of the song reinforces the overall old school feeling present throughout the album. In The Man from Foreign Land, the foul audial intonations gradually pierce the soul to the point of obliteration, engulfed in the ethereal aura of the ceremonial mass. The Key is my absolute favorite, infiltrating the shield of awareness with passages of sinister utterings, twisting the mind to the point of obsession, proclaiming the sacred axiom with ardent passion. The sardonic laughter sends chills down my spine, being the same kind of manifestation that the disembodied entities adore to employ when tormenting the victim caught in-between states. Fifth Star of the Mausoleum emanates the vicious Algol radiation - the dreadful Head of the Demon unleashing its flow of disturbing energies blessing with incurable madness. The CD version features Wraith from the Unknown bonus track, ending the album with the same agonizing gravity as it began, resuscitating feelings and perceptions buried deep within the passages of forbidden dreams.

      Overall, the album sends my mind roaming in a vacuum state, stuck in an empty endless hall, illuminated by a distant dim glow, with the image ready to shatter at the slightest modulating impulse. The key to its marvelous atmosphere lies within its simplicity. The voice is the perfect medium to transmit the trepidations lurking beyond the Gate, adjusting itself to the hallucinating rhythm. Monotony is constantly presiding, unleashing its neurotic effect on the mind of the listener, gathering the last pillars of  sanity in a vortex of slumbering motions and visions. There is also a subtle background chanting that blends harmoniously with its overall weirdness. The concept is more than meets the eye; dipped in occult essence, it reveals to whom has the courage to break the barriers of perception.

      Finding out who the darkness dwellers responsible for this abomination are in no way altered the uniqueness of its current, since it is not particularly related to their previous efforts, except for the genius of its inception.

      Make sure you get hold of it and live to tell.

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       Această formație suedeză tânără a ieșit din cripta ororii atavistice, purtată de undele groazei și morbidității suprarealiste. Deși sunt ezitantă în privința trupelor noi, atenția mea a fost captată imediat de numele neobișnuit al trupei, iar cover-ul a făcut o introducere adecvată a lucrurilor ce urmau să vină.

       De îndată ce am pus piesa promo Phantasmagoria, mintea mea a fost sustrasă de tulburențele bizare și de urletele asemeni mantrelor, ca și cum m-aș fi aflat într-un tunel subteran, înconjurată de apariții de cea mai scârnavă natură. By Titan Hand are un feeling oriental atașat, contopindu-și potența cu totalitatea atmosferei încărcată magic. They Lie in Wait - Riding the Waste pornește într-o manieră misterioasă, trimițând fiori înghețați prin șoaptele bântuitoare, învăluind lumina în vaporii ei sulfuroși. Brusca schimbare ritmică de la sfârșitul albumului reîntărește feelingul old school prezent pe parcursul întregului album. În The Man from Foreign Land, intonările auditive diabolice penetrează sufletul treptat până în punctul obliterării, îmbâcsit în aura eterică a masei ceremoniale. The Key este preferata mea absolută, infiltrând scutul conștiinței cu pasaje de murmurări sinistre, răsucind mintea în pragul obsesiei, proclamând axioma sacră cu o pasiune fierbândă. Râsul sardonic îmi trimite frisoane pe spinare, fiind aceeași formă de manifestare pe care entitățile necorporale adoră să o adopte când își torturează victima prinsă în stări liminale. Fifth Star of the Mausoleum emană vicioasa radiație Algol - temutul Cap al Demonului eliberându-și fluxul de energii tumultoase, binecuvântând cu o nebunie incurabilă. Versiunea pe CD include bonusul Wraith from the Unknown, sfârșind albumul cu aceeași gravitate agonizantă cu care a început, resuscitând senzații și percepții ascunse adânc în pasajele viselor interzise.

      Per total, albumul îmi trimite mintea să aiurască în vid, blocată într-un hol gol și nesfârșit, iluminat de o incandescență distantă, imaginea fiind gata să se fragmenteze la cel mai mic impuls modulatoriu. Cheia atmosferei sale fenomenale rezidă în simplicitate. Vocea este mediumul ideal pentru a transmite trepidațiile de dincolo de Poartă, adjustându-se la ritmul halucinant. Monotonia este prezentă constant, dislocându-și efectul neurotic asupra minții ascultătorului, adunând ultimii stâlpi de rezistență ai psihicului într-un vortex de mișcări și viziuni latente. Totodată se poate sesiza și o subtilă cântare de fundal ce se îmbină armonios cu ciudățenia generală. Conceptul este mai amplu decât pare; înmuiat în esență ocultă, revelându-se oricui are curajul să spargă barierele percepției. 

      Descoperind cine sunt locuitorii întunericului responsabili pentru abominația asta nu a alterat în nici un fel unicitatea curentului, din moment ce nu este înrudit în particular cu antecedentele lor, cu excepția genialității responsabile pentru creație.

      Asigură–te că pui mâna pe el și scapi cu viață să relatezi.

Anca D. (RO)