1. |
The Supernal Hunger
06:49
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The waste whipped to frenzy under vigilant stars,
crashing mad and caustic, with the ocean it spars.
Shadows sprawl from light of the bleary-eyed moon,
prostrate at the presence in the destitute gloom.
He clung to the Ghost, it called Him away
to where the locusts and the tempests hold sway,
to sup on spectral manna, to drink deep the speech,
despite abrosia – the guide!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows…
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The hunger that only the supernal can appease!
Starvation switing Christ like a spear on the wind
against the rocky terraces of rubicund,
yet lancing to the Saviour through the anguish and noise,
balsamic sustenance in a fatherly voice.
He indulged the Ghost, which unto Him did the same,
for communion is the vittle surpassing the gastric domain.
It tended His soul ‘til betwixt the crags there did grow
the ambrosial Tree of Life!
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows…
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord.”
The arid stretch with the Saviour therein yet besieged by scathing flaws,
and Jesus kept
lidless eyes on His heavenly prize, His altruistic cause,
whilst in His shadow painted serpents amassed from fissures rent with claws…
The Devil saw Christ in His wearied state as upon deprivation He stood,
and Satan leapt
with wicked glee that his enemy had such anathema accrued.
No knowledge he holds of the benedight soul, the need beyond the pale-
thus, he shall scheme to no avail.
“The thirst awakens and the hunger grows…
I’m sated on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord!”
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2. |
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When that vain Heaven spat my caste across the skies,
it procured for itself this war on Paradise.
Now I shall rend its son.
Bones for the kingdom…
I am the end of all the works of men,
the learnèd versed in my original sin.
Now a saviour comes to rid these fleas of me,
dressed in flesh and its impotency.
I…
the garden’s grievous blow.
Sedition in scarlet skin
fed to fools below.
My hands…
rife with ripened death,
stretching their asphyxiants
to Christ’s deprivèd breath.
I am the one slavering in the dark,
windswept voices guiding me to my impious mark.
The shepherd lies starving at my feet,
so I shall bring him food to eat…
“Nazarene!
Why waste thou hungrily?
Stop waiting on God to fill!
He won’t and never will…”
[Christ]
“Thou are the lie behind the leprosy
that rots the eyes God gave humanity,
seeking not their God but bread in broken hands,
finite as the faith struck on the sinking sands.”
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3. |
Trial of Decimation
03:07
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[Satan]
“I have warred with flaming sword,
before the Ein Sof trod,
yet it’s thee in meek frailty
revered as Son of God?
To the temple mount…
Throw
thyself upon the razor-sharp stones.
Show
the care of thy Father who called thee His own.
Know
the angels in Heaven shall rush to thy aid,
Go…
let Him His issue save.”
[Christ]
“Impotent, puerile thing!
Thou shalt achieve nothing.
Twice thou have come and now twice thou shalt flee.
Twisting scripture again
to keep the world in sin,
thinking thy schemes can avail thee of me.
Thou tout from ‘pon thy bier.
End of thy reign is here.
Know what it is to fear.
Test not thy God!”
The anthropophagous maw of Abaddon
then pursed confounded lips on six-tined tongue,
staring ghostly oath to tempt anon…
then gone!
[Christ]
“Though thou warred with flaming sword,
though Heaven thou did trod,
know beneath thy dear deceit,
I AM the Son of God.”
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4. |
LuciPhilosophaster
05:34
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“I glimpse in the darkness
God without a throne,
shadows swirling beside Him
in a kingdom of sand and stone.
The shadows they quiver with malice,
[refusing] the touch of the light.
What is it that lurks on
the desert air tonight?”
His wretched breath, graveolent exhaust
to enmire the Christ in noxious froth,
seething ‘tween the teeth whose gnawing inspired Dante’s awe.
Scaled in hematitic pride
for the Deity his heart defied,
wearing Hell’s grotesqueries from hoof to sable eye.
This archetypical misanthrope
skulks his once-angelic bulk
to God swathed in a threadbare cloak…
Creation recoils from his presence.
Light shines not upon his frame.
Nature bays its terror:
“Anathema! Corrosion incarnate!”
[Satan]
“Nazarene…
bow down thy brow
to me.
Nazarene…
all I shall give
to thee.”
Sweet and honey-viscous this reprisal of deceit,
the serpent emerged from Eden’s curse to strike messianic feet,
but for his thrice-plied sirenical guile this slavering drake receives
…a double-edged-sword glossectomy.
[Christ]
“Satan! Get thee from me!
Worship God only…”
Thus Heaven, seraphim-tongued,
threads space with bipolar songs,
both joy and lament; the Saviour, the serpent
rent from their benedight throng…
LuciPhilosophaster!
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Throne of Awful Splendor Portland, Oregon
Blackened death metal from the Pacific Northwest.
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