Morgana an bandia Fiache an Bháis!
I don’t even know why we have Halloween anymore when I pretty much made it as scary as possible years and years ago! Seriously…give up trying to beat these chills, Halloweens.
so true :P
Untitled en We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/77998076/via/syndromearcana
I just realized I never uploaded the final form of this picture. About as “final” as I will get with it anyway.
Like a fountain, the oil pours.
The machine stirs from its slumber.
The engine revs as the beast roars.
nothing will cease the rending,
Of the body from the mind.
No mortal may atone,
For the sins made here:
where metal meets bone.
The machine to the victim, poor,
Sharp blades against soft flesh,
Spinning till there’s nothing more,
but entrails and a bloody mess.
|—||Poem by IGKMc (thekholan)|
Cultic Dreams of Sacrificial Rights
Cultic dreams of sacrificial rights
Beautiful glowing lights
Modernization of Estonia
A fire lit in the heart
The will to never part
Molten to the core
Blood fills every pore
A flood over the crust
With another inward thrust
A light at the end of the tunnel
Souls flow out the funnel
Dopamine infused mutilation
Masses face decapitation
Blood red flush
Shattered teeth fly
Eyeless sockets cry
Releasing burning steam
The eyes swim upstream
To the ultimate truth
Glowing orb uncouth
Inside they rape and pillage
The innocence of this godly village
A giant thusly created
Nephilim incarnate formulated
A Gollum of carbon meat
Past any alchemist’s greatest feat
For gold nor silver can compare
To this child, most fare
|—||Poem by IGKMc (thekholan)|
A large gymnasium,
a massive ziggurat,
A Temple of the esthetic secular body
Holding all the sweat, spit and blood,
Of the Youthful, the lustful.
One massive vat.
testosterone is thick in the air.
muscles tearing, grinding, rebuilding, molding,
Training their bodies for the days to come.
Spirits of the ancient days,
Demons of a begotten era,
Come to Bet with spirits of which know no better.
Folding on One Hell of a poker bluff, the spirits lose the first hand.
All the while the cheerleaders sell their bodies to the roaring crowds.
Eight golden lionesses exalting their own bodies
The servants of Ishtar never cease the movement of their hips.
Now the ones who shape their bodies come.
Wearing just as much as the girls who precede them.
They are ready for the great sacrifice.
There does not exist a still moment before the teams face up.
Weary souls gather here,
Ready to taste the sweat and spit that flys through the air.
They scream and holler,
Without waiting for the sacrificial ceremony to begin.
They lick and thrust their bodies into the air in anticipation.
Every seat is full.
A Full House of nothing but corpses.
The fiends win another hand.
The bodies clash.
Sweat on sweat, blood on blood, spit on spit.
Eyes twitch and move from side to side,
oblivious of the synchronized motion of the collective.
Offering upon offering is made.
The servants of Ishtar make love to the body shifters at a distance.
The true minds are there,
On the sidelines.
They hold clipboards,
and wear the suits made from the flesh of the poor.
They pick up the green life energy that flies out the the souls’ mouths as they scream.
It is they that are in control.
Control of the youthful, the people, the spirits, and the dead.
They are the devils that created Nergal.
They will have their ways with whatever they want.
They are the cocks and the world is full of willing hens.
They will take the lionesses,
the body shapers,
the lost souls,
spirits or demons they themselves hired,
penetrating them all,
at one point or another.
They are the Bible Belt and the Bible Belt is America.
The buckle of the Bible Belt unfastens to relieve itself with the multiple offerings in multiple temples all over this “God-chosen Nation,” this “Nation Under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all…” things that sell their souls and minds to the institutions of America.
Poem by IGKMc