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The Wail of Hallowed's Demise

by Deciphering the Luciferian

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1.
Here, lacking an adequate lexicon,  eluding are the sentiments I wish to convey  What would delineate an ire of solemn echoing,  a breeze of man's obliteration, an incantation of human annihilation,  a ruminating visceral hatred  Deem this well within unrest onlooker,  hook the mooring line of abysmal emptiness to the twine on which your crucifix is affixed Putrid filth, seldom form the lips ready for collapse's articulation,  for none sung of the redemption of irreparable failure, waste not your purpose of rot  Follow the hollow points of proverbial direction, regale the lust confounded as love,  void the offspring of your children so that you may be weary in your legacy's forgetting  In your weakness so well endowed, stumble in drunken saunter,  fall to the stone, your true meritless heritage Hang your barren children on spikes so poorly sharpened,  so that you may feel, so that you may reap retribution Cower in the darkness so well avowed, so well personified,  convalesce to devolved mores of worthless form  Hear,  for the voices of your broken mind exude a great urgency, live to die  Burrowed in entrenching decay, I am the vile of the stagnant bog,  I am a horror foisting the mind of violent delusion, escape is death,  utter nothing yet restitution  Drain my life, void this onerous self,  so that I may find a wellness not found since the lit days of a child's excursions  Yet the knife unfettered binds me well within my immure  A moral collapse stole the wholesomeness once commended by Man's nexus A crucible of dire adaptation has left blatant the truth all human penchants as a base weakness Cumbersome their officious cycle,  aberrant their ardent infatuation with fleeting worthlessness Bruise to swell, shear to an unforgettable anguish, consume the iron and steel by which you're imprisoned To no avail There is no exit of ignorance,  there is no teaching for experiential understanding Why then breathe in the postponement of your demise,  isn't it adequate that you've completed one portion of Plato's divided line I watch in great revelling, as you stumble, as you fall  The prowl of the highest of Lions wears well his crown. The prowl of the highest of Lions wears well his crown.
2.
Even within the epitome of anger,  impeding stark convalescence is a pervasive sorrow, adhering to no prompting of recede, responding to no cardinal priest  In absent respect to the truth or belie of eventuality,  I foist my essence to an emboldened ire,  why accept hope when a force irreverent seethes, through all's core leaving nothing  To oblivion, a providence as devine as it is evil,  my obsequious churning of godless faith and expulsive hate  In a mire of revile, as sanctimonious as the common believer,  I shall find my salvation within the thorns of acrid filth, gilded worthless  Owning a mind reflexive and reverberant,  my actions' bolster to sound delusion, I will wake as I fall  Every stumble over the boundless extensity of rot, enlivening,  seen as purposeful opposition, a deterrent to make one formidable Muddled not in coagulation of earth, but in thought, clarity evasive in the clapping of rumination, unintelligible yet tenable,  left avowed through enduring will, tenacity coalesced with visceral animosity Confounded by the immensity of outset's focus, parochial and heavy is a vision of solely hatred I tread Hallowed my step, for wickedness is housed well within me, seeping,  reaping it's price of being, taking my detritus humanity  Undoubtedly to the perdition I'm endowed everlastingly to be,  an infinite fire, an indefinite death  It's image-full beyond metaphorical, I feel not as it's labled a scourge,  I am enamored, devasted by the infatuation of something purely loveless  To no cowardice, I heave conviction diametrically I grow to tower the righteous one,  Satan's kingdom has and will have only won  Fall failures denounced as angels,  there is a fire mounted evermore in effortless strength,  what power could ever dwell in Christ and his vagrant laden places of worship.
3.
The rarity of light, a constitutional enclave, is that in which potential dwells  Like a child amongst pleasing accompaniment  'So far putrid,' mutters the balefulness of that kept in shadow An imperfect merriness, yet, so well ill-defined, complete in illusory wellness Sentiments of security, spurred sightlessness  So swell the wonder, the impetus of discovery,  the drawer of which all else in life is referenced Seldom is direction not reflected in seeming meaningfulness Yet, so in rests a pending monotony, a desperation,  the cycle of reaching, the daily necessity of a fully formed being  A vastness of imagination to implement, for such is potential Like the child with friends of kindred effervescence, wishes for wishes A never-ending tale  There is no love found in ashes A clash lies in wait, a veil to be lifted from an engrossing belie A devastation, to heave cumbersome and too heavy An introduction to besieging vileness, that which constitutes a stark reality A murderous outset for those unavowed and unexposed Never does the innocence ponder the fathoms of the jilted,  of those things grown monstrous in dark, a crushing eventuality, a haunt that lies so closely parallel  A blackness of ever-changing, a terror vying,  a tantum actuality of false wellness in confidence A dualism of which gates do entertain venture into misfortune So trust in a torrid motive, remain ardent in playful odyssey  Enter in absent forebode, a hum to charm A latent malevolence would be conspicuous, in no saunter  Under the auspice of an evil, a prowl meant pedagogical. Under the auspices of an evil.
4.
Indifference 03:23
The waning sun. Walking the quiescent path, never a stumble, none to bore  I am laden in empty fathoms, serpents slither in equal parallel,  my mind a wolf, the devourer leading the way To eternal sleep, a vast voiding of the malarkey of needing,  a calming vacancy Peace within nothing, treading in company of deception's emblems,  I know not the follow to paradise,  a burden of contempt too heavy for heaven, redemption sees me not  A failure to wallow, for there is no merit in unseen tear,  I am detached by my immediate, I am withdrawn from myself  I wish to curse this arid path, yet in all I feel the verasity of futility,  once more the conflict is endogenous, of myself within myself Through some enigma,  I've assigned hope to the action of continued predictable pace,  I can't understand what leaves me in such avow  There is no water in this vagrant-like endeavour,  I have little confidence in its ability to equip me with a permeating wholeness,  so then, it would be none than rather  As the night brings it's freezing,  I hold no cowardice in the likelihood of it inducing death,  for life ended is the epitome of tumultuous feelings' reconcilation Existence is struggle,  unfound is a gentle kindness to abate or mitigate these innate flaws  In this moment, I want to give credence to myth, to a Christ,  to the views of the vitalists,  yet I starkly hold the knowledge of aberration,  why waste a modicum of thought on nothing Obtrusive, the revelation of holding no worth,  I cling to ideations of how to be indefinitely below the ground Copernicus was wrong, the mind is the centre of the universe,  for "I think, therefore I am." So to are these consuming penchants of deterring tendency As to the vile and those filled with felicity I saunter in nowhere I feel nothing  And yet I am
5.
Keep fettered the diatribe of shackled rhyme  The Lucifer of fallen kind, the twist of tightened rust within jaded skin Shearing burden of kindred nexus,  the merriment of those in brilliant psychotic liberty  Bereave my life, join me myth, be with me greatest of lies Why am I alive  The callous hoarseness of voided bellow, I am alone  Aberrant reality in poignant sharp truth, I am besieged Oweing all self-blame and drenching self-contempt, where is my irreparable error, my perception is not of self-dissenter's eye Absent are defensive illusions, where is the redemption of accurate sight Swallowing the dry vestige, the mock of absolution, fomented agony of turmoil never left  The futility of perspicacity, veracity, nobility The farthest of lands wartorn by credulous men treated through deceit of sanctity Failures of design, hope the enemy, to the crucifix of archaic Rome To never resurrect, abominations to violence,  and to then the retrofitted implements of annihilation  Beckon the adversary, bring the falsehood, become the charlatan Lay the spike of crucifix deep within puerile existence  Continue the dissemination of sententious adages of the worthless origin  Inborn are the wounds of the sword, what is life was never sentient  Spread your creed of generational normalcy,  widen the path of the evermore unexceptional  Lie on your tongue, feel the pierce of gilded feathers, come to know a genuine wrath of veritable adornment,  well wielded through life's barren achievements A product of jilt forevermore  My pain is for me to exorcize Lie wretched in the most worthless of fade, pray, absorb your chanted faith,  the rumination of waste, mold filth as though it were to create  On a side so triumphant over the cacophony of flesh So above. 
6.
Abomination 03:52
The extensity of life lost, a derelict hated in common passing,  devoid and in stark abandon So let death come, let the ash of life's cinders consume in covering,  permit an allocation to the place of none  So far passed a purpose in answering the 'why', owing to no cost  A vagrant, meaning even in his eyes, forgone the belie  Suffering an immensity of flesh ablating anguish  Knowing the pain, transcending that which is languish,  that which is trivial, a product of fomented cathartic unveiling, a sight of awareness  An understanding beyond immediate fleets,  away of followed mores and commendable pretensions  A paragon by which to reference, a God to jilt, Christians to confound and priests to perplex, what ire seethes to convalesce A mantra of 'never returning', carrying a dulcet ring,  a solemn step from heaven, an irreparable desertion, bridges to ground's collapse,  families left, a love story ending in bludgeoning and flames For, so none are with me  A voice is unheard and unwritten A primordial violence,  an expression passionately latent within the subconscious Knowing a base mind, a crude being to quenching Remediate, shread a life asunder, to their bloodletting Feel the rain in the coldness of pitch black, follow the prompting,  indulge the proclivity, heed the call of sacrifice, for starving is the wolf,  let the execution be in silence, for never speaking is purpose Breathe remorseless violence,  bleat as an animal in a protruding dominance over the freshly painted ending  For aggression is in need, the horrors of all are of our penchants,  scrutinize the act to no avail,  vivisect the being for the accuracy of morality being found a mode of coping  An imageless thought, an innate intuition, let reign the life of your abomination,  slit the vein of hearts, rip the caressing failure of worthless meander,  stoke the fire, enliven every horror 
7.
Derision 03:18
Impermanence, the extension of death, my regale to your revile To no reversal, I've tread in which led darkness vied, I am of the allure that rings baleful belie As heavy as the urge to try, I cast the crux of hollow on the downtrodden life I am the deplore of evil, personified in beguile, I invite you to construct in which to die Gone the worth of right, one with the extraneous, Hell solemnly breathes Your soul's perspicacity, my enlivening, audacious and evermore reaching My wealth distinguished, salvation's inexistence Immutable the besiege, precipitated in callousness, exuded in violence, entrenched to hopeless Embedded, held in visceral dread, for perdition is certainly not man's cater An ineffable fall in eternal loss, the truth of hoped purpose to failure A euphoria in revelling, millennia elapsed, yet the reap of fruition still jovially erases Drilling in mind the severance of life, toil the torture and fall for the cure, illusions immure Drown in sorrow's well, reverberant despair, the power of the mirror Ending in supplication, never heard, none to convalesce No edge in which to feel secure, cries of unavailing faith Permit your weakness to be reason for you to perish As beholden as you are to the eternity of this punitive deprecation As elusive as it's end I will continue to thrive in my dalliance of effort, for men only fall I am the creator's oppositional equivalent, destruction enthralled I am the seed of tree's tumble, it's decay poised for my rise to ever-all I am the creator's oppositional equivalent, destruction enthralled
8.
Void the enigma of perception beguiled protruding as actual Of God, of love, naive realism subject to falsifying indeterminism, torrential lore  Indulge then the postulation, pray to God, pray to Lucifer, grovel in hopeless whisper,  what coincidence could have left anew of circumstance to rid the worthless,  evermore remaining in hardening anguish  Slowly sway in underwater current Be bolted in ignorance to an indiscriminate ocean floor So that you may sleep So that you may find peace Confounded by the relentless act of bodily breathing  Choose the chore,  heave for callousness leaves you plagued in an immortal's disease,  eluding is crucible's meaning  For there is no such thing,  angels vying for an indefinite epoch of hollow nothing, where is the mightiest of supremacy,  indisposed through the formation of dualism, an everlasting division of self Let the bones of this unfounded personification be revealed,  drain dry the veins of irredeeming horded human cowardice  Find the wooden cross eroded through common weathering decay  Discover the adornment of men's hands in place most hallowed,  conceive of an objectivity within the contrivance of starkly purposeless walls, witness the gilded buildings Find the reparations of the god of salvation unavailing Wallow for the morrow of the mire widens in everlasting futility Reach a peace only to see it's duplicitous scorching nature
9.
Thought to be of no real motivation. Thought to be of endearment's revelations. The crux of all has been written. I am befallen to no driven opposition. I will dwell in the feeling of Satan. So far beneath your perspicacity of vision, the enemy that evermore enlivens. Sa far beneath. To my belie, you have fallen. So far beneath. In these words that I have written, See the solemn behest of Satan. His will to be, Through me. So far beneath. Fall in death, for such is my enactment of purpose. So far beneath.
10.
Ideations 03:18
As I, an irreparable wretch attempt to construe an altered perception,  one that's poised to leave hatred in garnered recede, a futility of odyssey,  an unforgettable past denotes it to be  Hope and things genial, a failure of my vision's purpose,  a primacy of focus to the vacancy of a welcoming fathom of earthly Heaven  For the world is exactly as it seems,  misanthropy and iconoclasm are abundant in distinction,  a substantiation revealing itself without effort,  there is nothing that brings me to benevolence's knees I am reaquainted with the deplore of animosity toward the revile of humanity  Reintroduced to a contemptuous nature,  proliferated in deserving meaning An annihilation of everything,  beckoning the irreparable languish of the values of men,  merit is found in unhesitant detritus destruction I seethe in drive, my motivation immaculately placed, a position of Satan's auspice,  stoking the flames with the worthless forevermore I dwell in the revel of imagination, an image of utter agony,  of men's strong and weakest A child and mother sacrificed on the devil's throne,  a glimpse of unfettered infinite infliction, my fulfillment,  my oppositional decision  A hollow soul sowing unbearable anguish,  collecting the bounty of Christ's failure, a Hell for his chosen,  fallible predestination Satan will own more than any proponent of good could ever relish,  a will to ensure this,  I was never meant for the widened linear path of happiness,  nor will I ever be abled in it's pursuit, for I am the serpent's child,  anointed in abhorrence Cry in company of the shadow of Hell, a rotation of every night,  a certainty of fulfilling twisted truth There is no promise in biblical account that is beyond malicious demarcation,  relentless is an all-extension of reach Tomorrow will come, as the morning of rumination does,  the haunt of coming dark only nearing,  an evermore inescapable sickness of wicked restitution My imposition of evil, reverberant of the unquenchable devil.

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released August 29, 2019

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Deciphering the Luciferian Fort Frances, Ontario

Daniel Herbert - Everything

Deathcore out of Canada.

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