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Insipid fumes bellow from the atrabilious chimney
Whilst in the sanctified crevet I calmly pillage and rake For hot dry powdered human slag Still steaming in the crematorium's grate Bio-organic ebullition, bones tar, tallow dehydrates For my deleterious horticulture so that I may cultivate Your mortal mechanism dies - in nutrients rich In the hallowed turf you lie - just for the taking Charred sinew's as good as lime, no phosphates do I need Deteriorated flesh used as top-soil, to replenish and nourish seed Spreading this human potash, as ash matured Recycling my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for use as manure... Irrigating tears are shed, but the ground still must be fed Tipping and dusting up the spilt contents of urns Every morsel that glows like ember on the fire Extinguishing all hope of beatrific dispatch These charred chassis desired Exequiet rites now performed, a coronach sooting up the flu Enter my execrable inferno, even in the after-life there's work to do The nitrogen content's high - but the flesh is weak At the graveside mourners cry - you're never to wake again Burnt brisket renews the ground, to germinate my seed Cremated bodies are my spoil, to use them as plant-feed Ploughing this abhorrent human manure Seeding my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for the soils to devour... Dry the dead are bled, because the ground must be fed And there's still no rest for the dead I propagate - dust in the grate Ashes to ashes - dust to dust, diluted in water and sprayed on crops Charcoal, fats, flesh and soot fertilising pasture with active fertile rot Incumbent - latent calories are spent Ashes to ashes - dust to dust renewing the land with corpses corrupt Mortuary scrapings, hearses a must, to the hot hearth the deceased are trussed Harvesting the defouled, to fertilize my soil Rejuvenating the spent with my fecundate spoils... Reaping the gone, to nourish the land Replenishing exhausted pasture with my uncanny sleight of hand Restoring the unnatural balance, sowing my seed Defalcating the departed, I rapt and glean... So I recite my contrite lament, lacrimation for the dead Their rest which I disturb... Where should stand row upon row of cold grey remembrance stones My cash crops now grow... |
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In caustic butchery
I parent my dominion In the food chain I create the missing link Cold temerity confects This splintered for age Infantile corruption Taken to the brink Making hash of the Spumous crubescent All natural compassion removed The newly fully developed Boiled as sprouted fodder Martilinear murder Cordon bleu As salubrious pet food Human midden is consumed Not one to mince my words But now I love to see Those siblings churned In tins they are reared Ghastly I slake Bestial appetites to sate As flesh and steel I mate To fill the lower species' plate Desparental Primparal goods oozing The bawling, squabbling Denied the suckling teat Sentient bloodletting Sprains the sporulate Makes a choice chimerical treat Rheological Twisted nursery chymes The fluxing of the defleshed Paedophilosophical Carnage knowledge As the illegitimeat to The domesticated is fed So as you breed They will bleed Contumely calorie count Ebullient death toll mounts Higher and higher -Solos- Despumation the midden The desipient I segment Pertaining vitality Their dispatch I cement Served out for minion In their feeding trough |
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Striking up my discordant underture
A carnal cacophony perversely penned Transposed...and decomposed On strings fashioned from human twine Lovingly wound and fretted upon my bow Garishly incarcerated...the dead resonate In a final death-throe Vibrant as I thresh... Movements scripted for the dead... Orchestral horrors I vehemently conduct My corpus concertos cordial Disinterred... and detuned With six feet below In harmony with the deceased My inspiration...your disintegration For my latest masterpiece My scope creeps your flesh... Notes seep from sinewy frets... But don't hold your breath As you wait for your god or the void Or the abyss of nothingness Your usefulness isn't through Your productivity I resume... My sorbid, soiled handicrafts Will be your afterlife's handicap.... ...My corrupt crescendos... ...Will leave you out on a limbo... ...Your disposition I unleash... ...You will rest in my piece... With deadly dynamics You're dead, buried and barred Your remains dampened and fingered Your mortal coil is barbed The death-bells are peeling Ringing out as you flake Shrieking out their recitals A celebration of your wake... Enter my funereality My world two metres under A curious habitat Your muddy trench I plunder Pass on to ethereality Churned out under the sextant's blade You live your life in wretchedness And death is no escape... |
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