Ingurgitating Oblivion

Continuum of Absence

2014

1. Eternal Quiescence

Throughout time And turmoil Mankinds gaze Has ever turned skywards

Searching for Transcendent blessings and guidance and punishment

Looking for answers Above and below

A frantic search for the face of forever A quest to unveil the countenance of the many voids To hearken the thousand silences of the voices

Beneath the manifold clamour of creation

Seers, saints, and prophets and all alike Implore the skies for a constellation of signs

Which heralsd the final days of redemption for mankind The faithful cowers in trepidation waiting for the stars to align

Circling throught the celestial void Stars send down spears of thin light

Down upon the teeming masses Of mankind Ensnared in a hermetic world Of coldness and isolation

The eternal lament of the creatures Of agony Disappears within the vastness Nothingness an entity unto itself Emptiness crushing time itself

To earth confined Devoid of infinity Yearning spheres beyond

Following prophecies , auguries Wilt in the gaze of a blind destiny,

The droning of quiescence, The clamour of silence, A vastness that dissolves and devours A certainty of insignificance

From which all of mankind Frantically flees Down the dimly - lit Corridors of the souls Swathed in twillight And filled with the shadows And echoes of mortal desperation The certainty that this is all that is

Hear us, heal us, lead us, save us

Prayers and sermons, Screams of the doomed Rise towards and fade within The void between the stars

The sole cosmic promise Uttered from the mouth of infinity Is that of eternal silence Of vast endless spaces All-pervading, endless silence

2. Antinomian Rites

I am changing in rapture, traversing this well-known picture, moving in relativity, conveying substances that bear infinity, piercing the inexorable will of those blessed planes determinating the architecture of life. Does your slumber bring relief? A deity's waves take vengeance in their sweetest form, an intoxicating stream of forgetfulness runs through life's veins, and lies are pulsating through this ocean anon, bearing sweet forgetfulness. It took so long to squeeze infinity out of my veins.

Nothingness! Sleep well, blissful descendants of blackness, drifting asleep on an opaque sea of forms. Sleep well, seeds enmeshed by shrouds that calm down. Sleep well, humanity, sleep well. Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness. I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life.

Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I'd soothe your pain. I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home.

I am descending to my temple, I am mourning, I am scourged by illusions that delight and serenade like blessed drugs that blacken visions. I am observing the fall of my temple. I am! Still this collapse whirrs unceasingly like a nightmare, but I reap the ears, swaying in the wind of a new consciousness. Harvest has come. The cycle has changed into something finite. The mirror lies broken. Harvest has come. Absurd shivers that once formed life, now numbing a new reflection. A godlike creator stares into the world he gave birth to. Immense nothingness! Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness, I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life.

Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I would soothe your pain.

I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home. I chase away the tiredness you spread. I choke out the seed you planted once. Crying, raging, smashing the veil I suspect, bbut virtually traversing the garden that means life.

3. Burden Of Recurrence

Chants fill the air Commune with the void Liturgy

Limbs conjoin In ceremonial union Ritual

Tongues, flesh, filth spell mysteries Oscillate between polarities

Sacraments most foul and sublime heretic sabbath of transgression Those of the doctrines recoil in abhorrence As creed and commandment are defiled

Antinomian Rites disrupting the patterns of worship and adoration

Desecrate monuments and tombs Cenotaphs of sanctity

Crush the temples in ecstasy

Reversing heaven and abyss Above and below amalgamate

Polyphonous chants of iniquity Many-voiced oration of the unutterable From labyrinthine spheres of permutation

Revelation of inversion

From beyond The depths within

Antinomian Rites

4. Descent To The Temple

All mortal substance that is Scatters and gathers, Forms and dissolves, Aligns and comes asunder

Infinite impermanence Of all that comes to be But never is Perpetual reiteration In the helix of existence

Labyrinthine continuum Of enigmatic symmetries

Ephemeral configurations Patterns form and dissolve

Converge, repulse, align, collide

A nameless, endless procession Wandering between the horizons Multitudes, in perennial progression From forgetfulness to oblivion

A vast and plodding pilgrimage A drift between the eternities A vanishing into nothingness Into absolute and perpetual Obscurity

No arrival, no ascent Crawling onwards, to never meet an end Mankinds tragedies and trivialities A burden of recurrence In the absence of finality

Labyrinthine continuum Of enigmatic symmetries

Ephemeral configurations Patterns form and dissolve

Converge, repulse, align, collide

Infinite impermanence Of all that comes to be But never is Perpetual reiteration In the helix of existence

Step after step On a circuitous path Perpetuated while eternity lasts Step after step Again and again Forever to return

No arrival, no ascent Crawling onwards, to never meet an end Mankinds tragedies and trivialities A burden of recurrence In the absence of finality

What has been melts into what will be Again, again, again, and again Forever and ever

Unfolding, then undone Become, to be gone

The world turns All turns to dust Scattering winds Sowing seeds of ash

5. Avatar Of Radiating Abscence

Offering Incinerate the self within Cremate the heart and all confines Immolate the shifting veils Contemplate upon the remains

Sacrificial ritual The blood must speak The flesh must pray Pray Swathed in ashes Awaken to the sun of the self

Set aflame To enter bliss

Conquer the remains

Born of time and hence devoured By which creates and thus destroys Turn towards what terrifies Embrace, sacrifice

Forgotten and remembered by That which destroys time That which is time And the night of eternity

Purify

Permeated by the presence Of dark formlessness itself Amidst the roaring flames In billowing clouds of ash

Human life and mortal dreams As futile as sparks Fading in the fires Of perpetual cremation

The funeral pyre A column of flame

Illuminates the consecrated ground Of death and ash

Shattered by deafening laughter.

6. Offering

Holocaust of the Supreme. Longing for vision and loathing it. A reef. Devoured by unfathomable gulfs. And foundering in waters, shoal, foul and pure. The world is done.

A polluted stream this vessel is, forsooth. Hearkening unto the inherent void And hurling forth scanty fare. For the leper cannot behold without envy, despair.

May he become an overcomer! May he be a convalescent! A bridge to me and not the goal. Verily, a putrid stream he is.

Plucking the ears, despising the bodily. Halting before the final precipice. And clattering like kettledrums. An arrow of longing for a shore, beyond.

Bless me, then, tranquil eye! Leprous convalescent, foul and pure. Be abyss, be interstice. A bridge to me and not the goal.

Casting cheerful auguries Into waters, shoal.

A brook whose benignity changes its air To one expressive of affright and despair. A transubstantiation which bestows onto the mind Uncreation – vision's vessel and plea.

Inhale, exhale.

Holocaust of the Supreme. Longing for vision and loathing it. A reef. Devoured by unfathomable gulfs. And foundering in waters, shoal, foul and pure.

The world is done. Inhale, exhale. Shell devoid of inherent existence. Craving and clinging – imputing a journey ill.

Floating, quivering unreal. Shape without relief. Arrows, hurled each to each. Meeting midway in vagrant flight.

Slicing the void. Stupendous, featureless, still. The world is done. Mind has done away with perception, ideas, and views. Holocaust of the Supreme.

7. Stupendous, Featureless, Still

Swirling in lucid delirium Drifting in the swarming void

Entirety without confines

Whirling in red winds And black dust Streaming forth like fog

Formlessness manifest

Swirling in lucid delirium

Fallen eyes in the faceless Countenance of continuous night Gleam anew as gazing stars That behold the descent the fall from flesh beyond the body beyond the soul

Into the heaving seas The churning streams older than the world older than the flow of blood in mortal veins

Beyond the soul

Into the heaving seas The churning streams older than the world older than the flow of blood in mortal veins

Avatar of radiating absence Enter the maelstrom in silence Lips torn by thorns

Take the shapeless hand That strangles all

Ingurgitating Oblivion

Enigmatic Symmetries

2011

1. Consecrated Ground of Death and Ash (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

Offering. Incinerate the self within Cremate the heart and all confines Immolate the shifting veils Contemplate upon the remains Sacrificial ritual The blood must speak The flesh must pray. Pray! Swathed in ashes Awaken to the sun of the self Set aflame To enter bliss Conquer the remains Born of time and hence devoured By which creates and thus destroys Turn towards what terrifies Embrace, sacrifice Forgotten and remembered by That which destroys time That which is time And the night of eternity Purify. Permeated by the presence Of dark formlessness itself Amidst the roaring flames In billowing clouds of ash Human life and mortal dreams As futile as sparks Fading in the fires Of perpetual cremation The funeral pyre A column of flame Illuminates the consecrated ground Of death and ash Shattered by deafening laughter.

2. Eternal Quiescence (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

Throughout time And turmoil Mankinds gaze Has ever turned skywards

Searching for Transcendent blessings and guidance and punishment

Looking for answers Above and below

A frantic search for the face of forever A quest to unveil the countenance of the many voids To hearken the thousand silences of the voices

Beneath the manifold clamour of creation

Seers, saints, and prophets and all alike Implore the skies for a constellation of signs

Which heralsd the final days of redemption for mankind The faithful cowers in trepidation waiting for the stars to align

Circling throught the celestial void Stars send down spears of thin light

Down upon the teeming masses Of mankind Ensnared in a hermetic world Of coldness and isolation

The eternal lament of the creatures Of agony Disappears within the vastness Nothingness an entity unto itself Emptiness crushing time itself

To earth confined Devoid of infinity Yearning spheres beyond

Following prophecies , auguries Wilt in the gaze of a blind destiny,

The droning of quiescence, The clamour of silence, A vastness that dissolves and devours A certainty of insignificance

From which all of mankind Frantically flees Down the dimly - lit Corridors of the souls Swathed in twillight And filled with the shadows And echoes of mortal desperation The certainty that this is all that is

Hear us, heal us, lead us, save us

Prayers and sermons, Screams of the doomed Rise towards and fade within The void between the stars

The sole cosmic promise Uttered from the mouth of infinity Is that of eternal silence Of vast endless spaces All-pervading, endless silence Eternal quiescence

3. Antinomian Rites (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

Chants fill the air Commune with the void Liturgy

Limbs conjoin In ceremonial union Ritual

Tongues, flesh, filth spell mysteries Oscillate between polarities

Sacraments most foul and sublime heretic sabbath of transgression Those of the doctrines recoil in abhorrence As creed and commandment are defiled

Antinomian Rites disrupting the patterns of worship and adoration

Desecrate monuments and tombs Cenotaphs of sanctity

Crush the temples in ecstasy

Reversing heaven and abyss Above and below amalgamate

Polyphonous chants of iniquity Many-voiced oration of the unutterable From labyrinthine spheres of permutation

Revelation of inversion

From beyond The depths within

Antinomian Rites

4. Burden of Recurrence (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

All mortal substance that is Scatters and gathers, Forms and dissolves, Aligns and comes asunder

Infinite impermanence Of all that comes to be But never is Perpetual reiteration In the helix of existence

Labyrinthine continuum Of enigmatic symmetries

Ephemeral configurations Patterns form and dissolve

Converge, repulse, align, collide

A nameless, endless procession Wandering between the horizons Multitudes, in perennial progression From forgetfulness to oblivion

A vast and plodding pilgrimage A drift between the eternities A vanishing into nothingness Into absolute and perpetual Obscurity

No arrival, no ascent Crawling onwards, to never meet an end Mankinds tragedies and trivialities A burden of recurrence In the absence of finality

Labyrinthine continuum Of enigmatic symmetries

Ephemeral configurations Patterns form and dissolve

Converge, repulse, align, collide

Infinite impermanence Of all that comes to be But never is Perpetual reiteration In the helix of existence

Step after step On a circuitous path Perpetuated while eternity lasts Step after step Again and again Forever to return

No arrival, no ascent Crawling onwards, to never meet an end Mankinds tragedies and trivialities A burden of recurrence In the absence of finality

What has been melts into what will be Again, again, again, and again Forever and ever

Unfolding, then undone Become, to be gone

The world turns All turns to dust Scattering winds Sowing seeds of ash

5. The shapeless hand that strangles all (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

Swirling in lucid delirium Drifting in the swarming void

Entirety without confines

Whirling in red winds And black dust Streaming forth like fog

Formlessness manifest

Swirling in lucid delirium

Fallen eyes in the faceless Countenance of continuous night Gleam anew as gazing stars That behold the descent the fall from flesh beyond the body beyond the soul

Into the heaving seas The churning streams older than the world older than the flow of blood in mortal veins

Beyond the soul

Into the heaving seas The churning streams older than the world older than the flow of blood in mortal veins

Avatar of radiating absence Enter the maelstrom in silence Lips torn by thorns

Take the shapeless hand That strangles all

6. White

Instrumental

Ingurgitating Oblivion

Voyage towards Abhorrence

2005

1. Imprecations (Florian Engelke)

Gazing at this idol's countenance – stern, lethargic - of divine voracity. Gaping at this senescent composition. An impromptu of the grand opacity. This downhearted Godhead stares into nothingness. These eyes were carved to conceive interstices. That infix the essence of the element. Emanating sectarian envy. Gazing at this idol's countenance – vain, withered, decayed and defaced by conceit. Gaping at this decrepit composition – stone. Woven into the stifling air it breathes. Breathing finiteness, age, deceit. I vomit forth an imprecation of the incomplete. Cursing this ignoramus in his sacrilegious sleep. This imprecation of the incomplete Curses the crippled face in its' eternal sleep. Saviour clad in word made flesh turned into stone. Craving for souls to build a dismal throne. Shaped by the ravings of those lost in folly. Dreams of the filthy to revel in purity. Thy gaze meets mine – the serpent uncoils. Behind the eyes worlds unfold. In this distorted dimension dominated by disease I move in a multitude of colours and forms multiplex. In this raped unity devoid of ease I masturbate upon the Divine - oblique, convex. A vibrant idea of freedom. Dreaded as the Great Beast. Indulging in blasphemous wisdom. Rejoices in the intellect's feast. Rise above the misery. Rise above the scourge. Rise above the misery that heaven sent. I mock the grimace of this infidel nonentity. Clad in denial and masochistic vanity. In solemn posture frozen. Forlorn saint swathed in shadow. Unmoved eyes, petrified impotent monstrosity. An image of what is inexplicable, unveiled. Embodiment of lust to dominate. Dominate the profane.

2. Nothingness (redacted lyrics, based on Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852) “Alciphron“)

Darkness, black In th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Looking as if Just varnished o'er With that dark pitch, the seat of death Throws out upon its' slimy shores A reservoir of darkness, black As moon–drugs In th'eclipse distilled Feeble creature, suffocating, choking, crying, reeling, dying A cleansing metamorphosis shall sweep away my stupidity Leaning to look If foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore The jetty sides As smooth as glass Looking as if just varnished o'er With that dark pitch The seat of death Throws out upon A reservoir of darkness, black As witches' cauldrons are, when filled With moon-drugs in th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Slumber, watcher, till the spheres Six and twenty thousand years Have revolved and I return To the spot where now I burn Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The skies! Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The stars that soothe The stars that bless With the sweetest forgetfulness Only when my round is o'er Shall the past disturb my door A reservoir of darkness, black Darkness, black As witches cauldrons.

3. Poetry of the Flesh (Florian Engelke)

Hast thine eye beheld yon enmity That dwells in ye Great Deep? Gazing into ye grand womb Hence incising ye vapours that hover above Why doest thou deify thine own ethereal stillbirth? Infidel thrall, thou art ye servant of incessant void Thine potency is absorbed by ye barren plains of yon orbed soul-ruin Doest thine masturbation by Stygian shores bring relief? Ye infamous chasm exhales dulcet symphonies thou cannot sense Thus, thou perdition is infinite Thou rapest thine innermost companion And thine semen restrains thine Poetry of the flesh Doest thou transgress ye dreams from beyond? Thou rejoicest in thine glory obscured Idea parts from ye incarcerated entity That writhes in physical dimensions The Great Deep vomits forth yon ethereal foetus that makes ye angels weep Doest thou desire to accept its' eyes? Art thou willing to transfix ye dreams from beyond? Thine disdain of ye transcendent symphony enslaves ye image Of Creation and thereupon bringest forth ye loss of paradise Art thou ye one almighty besmeared with ye blood of all gods? Thine eye beheld yon enmity That dwells in ye Great Deep? Gazing into ye grand womb Hence incising ye vapours that hover above Thou divest into ye exhalations To assume and inhale ye metrical lunacy That savest thee from ye immanent Stygian Flood Infidel thrall, thou art ye servant of incessant void Thine potency is absorbed by ye barren plains of yon orbed soul-ruin Ye infamous chasm exhales dulcet symphonies thou cannot sense Thou divest into ye exhalations to assume and inhale ye metrical lunacy That savest thee from ye immanent Stygian Flood Thou art interwoven with ye pulse beyond Doest thou perceive ye desperate call from ye fathomless pits? Thine disdain of ye transcendent symphony enslaves ye image Of Creation and thereupon bringest forth ye loss of paradise Art thou ye one almighty besmeared with ye blood of all gods?

4. Towards the Flickering Light (redacted lyrics, based on Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852) “Alciphron“)

Stars that soothe, stars that bless With a sweet forgetfulness Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies Gazing towards this flickering light Existence within a lie.

5. Waters of Rebirth (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

Fade from stasis into disgust, misery And the cold light of dawn My body breaks to blossoms blooming The flowers of filth Entangling roots winding deeper Enter the womb, wound Become the festering flesh of mother earth Sinking deeper The remains touching the bitter waters of rebirth That which is left, leaving Descend to the inmost darkness itself and beyond Become the festering flesh of mother earth Touching the bitter waters of rebirth Crawling further towards the promise of an end Exhale the soul and putrify Flesh and spirit parting ways Destination, emptiness Where all creation resonates Reunite with the current that streams below Out, into the all-embracing vastness dark Exhale the soul and putrify Flesh and spirit parting ways Destination, emptiness Where all creation resonates Thoughts arise Like clouds of flies From my corpse on which they dine A swarming mass As memories scream Raving of the final dream Escape the vicious ways Into the waves Permeate the sea of fate Reunite with the current That streams below Dissolve within the pulse Throbbing perpetually in eternity Lest the call of resurrection Awakens us and we drown.

6. Veil of Perception (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

My mind oscillates Between nothing and eternity Reverberating consciousness Offspring of entropy Dependent origination Void-spawned incarnation Ascending from the Depths of uncreation Opening the eyes to the sights Arising from the joy of void Reflections, thoughts manifest That never come to rest Polychromatic blaze unfolds A multitude of mirrored selves Embodiment and recollection Fracturing reality There is nothing you will see There is nothing to see There is nothing you will see As you try to perceive There is nothing you will see There is nothing to see There is nothing you will see As all emptiness is perceived You will see I close My eyes Ceasing The visions The world reflects itself Through the gates Into the shell Which is me There is nothing you will see As all emptiness is perceived You will see I close My eyes Ceasing The visions The world reflects itself Through the gates Into the shell Which is me.

7. Spiraling out of the World (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

The journey on which your mind has set Out of the body Into the enfolding layers of tranquility Eyes are claimed by the whirl that whispers Drawn inexorably towards its' centre And so is the mind Unearthly unfolding As the looming circles permeate all that is The Vortex descends Carried away by this swirling momentum Frozen in an incessant pattern You are spiraling out of the world.

Ingurgitating Oblivion

Poetry of the Flesh

2004

1. Unfolding

Instrumental

2. Spiraling out of the World (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

The journey on which your mind has set Out of the body Into the enfolding layers of tranquility Eyes are claimed by the whirl that whispers Drawn inexorably towards its' centre And so is the mind Unearthly unfolding As the looming circles permeate all that is The Vortex descends Carried away by this swirling momentum Frozen in an incessant pattern You are spiraling out of the world.

3. Veil of Perception (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

My mind oscillates Between nothing and eternity Reverberating consciousness Offspring of entropy Dependent origination Void-spawned incarnation Ascending from the Depths of uncreation Opening the eyes to the sights Arising from the joy of void Reflections, thoughts manifest That never come to rest Polychromatic blaze unfolds A multitude of mirrored selves Embodiment and recollection Fracturing reality There is nothing you will see There is nothing to see There is nothing you will see As you try to perceive There is nothing you will see There is nothing to see There is nothing you will see As all emptiness is perceived You will see I close My eyes Ceasing The visions The world reflects itself Through the gates Into the shell Which is me There is nothing you will see As all emptiness is perceived You will see I close My eyes Ceasing The visions The world reflects itself Through the gates Into the shell Which is me.

4. Poetry of the Flesh (Florian Engelke)

Hast thine eye beheld yon enmity That dwells in ye Great Deep? Gazing into ye grand womb Hence incising ye vapours that hover above Why doest thou deify thine own ethereal stillbirth? Infidel thrall, thou art ye servant of incessant void Thine potency is absorbed by ye barren plains of yon orbed soul-ruin Doest thine masturbation by Stygian shores bring relief? Ye infamous chasm exhales dulcet symphonies thou cannot sense Thus, thou perdition is infinite Thou rapest thine innermost companion And thine semen restrains thine Poetry of the flesh Doest thou transgress ye dreams from beyond? Thou rejoicest in thine glory obscured Idea parts from ye incarcerated entity That writhes in physical dimensions The Great Deep vomits forth yon ethereal foetus that makes ye angels weep Doest thou desire to accept its' eyes? Art thou willing to transfix ye dreams from beyond? Thine disdain of ye transcendent symphony enslaves ye image Of Creation and thereupon bringest forth ye loss of paradise Art thou ye one almighty besmeared with ye blood of all gods? Thine eye beheld yon enmity That dwells in ye Great Deep? Gazing into ye grand womb Hence incising ye vapours that hover above Thou divest into ye exhalations To assume and inhale ye metrical lunacy That savest thee from ye immanent Stygian Flood Infidel thrall, thou art ye servant of incessant void Thine potency is absorbed by ye barren plains of yon orbed soul-ruin Ye infamous chasm exhales dulcet symphonies thou cannot sense Thou divest into ye exhalations to assume and inhale ye metrical lunacy That savest thee from ye immanent Stygian Flood Thou art interwoven with ye pulse beyond Doest thou perceive ye desperate call from ye fathomless pits? Thine disdain of ye transcendent symphony enslaves ye image Of Creation and thereupon bringest forth ye loss of paradise Art thou ye one almighty besmeared with ye blood of all gods?

5. Deconstructed Creature (Ulrich Kreienbrink)

As Reason sleeps - the sirens sing Behind the gates - dreamt of lead Constructing vistas - prior unseen Shaping the maze of multiperspectivity. Dissolving the structures defined and dethroned Swept away by iconoclastic torrents Polyvalence eroding persistance Scattering the ashes of symbolic hierarchy. Newborn spheres give birth to skies, shining bright horizons Beams of light from neon skies bathe flesh in effulgence Eyes wide open without vision awestruck gaze in emptiness Essence is evaporating in the afterglow of a transcendental void. Float through the void between the voices Inbetween the dissonance Trembling echo of fading presence Cast adrift on the stream of consciousness. All that is solid melts into air. Revolve in stasis. Losing focus. Perpetuate the mantra of misery. Deconstructed creature Slave of new confines.

Ingurgitating Oblivion & Senescence

Harvest

2002

1. A Poet's Fingernails

Instrumental

2. La Gitana

Instrumental

3. Descent to the Temple (Florian Engelke)

I am changing in rapture, traversing this well-known picture, moving in relativity, conveying substances that bear infinity, piercing the inexorable will of those blessed planes determinating the architecture of life. Does your slumber bring relief? A deity's waves take vengeance in their sweetest form. An intoxicating stream of forgetfulness runs through life's veins, and lies are pulsating through this ocean anon, bearing sweet forgetfulness. It took so long to squeeze infinity out of my veins.

Nothingness! Sleep well, blissful descendants of blackness, drifting asleep on an opaque sea of forms. Sleep well, seeds enmeshed by shrouds that calm down. Sleep well, humanity, sleep well. Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness. I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life. Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I'd soothe your pain. I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home. I am descending to my temple, I am mourning, I am scourged by illusions that delight and serenade like blessed drugs that blacken visions. I am observing the fall of my temple. I am! Still this collapse whirrs unceasingly like a nightmare, but I reap the ears, swaying in the wind of a new consciousness. Harvest has come, the cycle has changed into something finite. The mirror lies broken. Harvest has come. Absurd shivers that once formed life, now numbing a new reflection. A godlike creator stares into the world he gave birth to. Immense nothingness! Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness, I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life.

Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I would soothe your pain. I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home. I once called home. I chase away the tiredness you spread. I choke out the seed you planted once. Crying, raging, smashing the veil I suspect, but virtually traversing the garden that means life.

4. Nothingness (redacted lyrics based on Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852) “Alciphron“)

Darkness, black In th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Looking as if Just varnished o'er With that dark pitch, the seat of death Throws out upon its' slimy shores A reservoir of darkness, black As moon–drugs In th'eclipse distilled Feeble creature, suffocating, choking, crying, reeling, dying A cleansing metamorphosis shall sweep away my stupidity Leaning to look If foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore The jetty sides As smooth as glass Looking as if just varnished o'er With that dark pitch The seat of death Throws out upon A reservoir of darkness, black As witches' cauldrons are, when filled With moon-drugs in th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Slumber, watcher, till the spheres Six and twenty thousand years Have revolved and I return To the spot where now I burn Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The skies! Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The stars that soothe The stars that bless With the sweetest forgetfulness Only when my round is o'er Shall the past disturb my door A reservoir of darkness, black Darkness, black As witches cauldrons.

5. Slumbering in Relativity (Florian Engelke)

Traveling in sickening forgetfulness. Changing in relativity. Existence within a lie. Yelling into nothingness. Lucid eyes are searching for something in a void. Ignorance is a comfortable perspective. I am gazing towards the flickering light that fades within this nothingness. Why?

Ingurgitating Oblivion

Cadence and Perspective in Desolation

2001

1. A Poet's Fingernails

Instrumental

2. La Gitana

Instrumental

3. Descent to the Temple (Florian Engelke)

I am changing in rapture, traversing this well-known picture, moving in relativity, conveying substances that bear infinity, piercing the inexorable will of those blessed planes determinating the architecture of life. Does your slumber bring relief? A deity's waves take vengeance in their sweetest form, an intoxicating stream of forgetfulness runs through life's veins, and lies are pulsating through this ocean anon, bearing sweet forgetfulness. It took so long to squeeze infinity out of my veins.

Nothingness! Sleep well, blissful descendants of blackness, drifting asleep on an opaque sea of forms. Sleep well, seeds enmeshed by shrouds that calm down. Sleep well, humanity, sleep well. Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness. I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life.

Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I'd soothe your pain. I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home.

I am descending to my temple, I am mourning, I am scourged by illusions that delight and serenade like blessed drugs that blacken visions. I am observing the fall of my temple. I am! Still this collapse whirrs unceasingly like a nightmare, but I reap the ears, swaying in the wind of a new consciousness. Harvest has come. The cycle has changed into something finite. The mirror lies broken. Harvest has come. Absurd shivers that once formed life, now numbing a new reflection. A godlike creator stares into the world he gave birth to. Immense nothingness! Your surface stirs, reflections might drown in your vastness, I admire your incomprehinsible dimension. I hate your depth. I enjoy the voices you cast upon me and those of my kind. I praise your omnipresence, while I am mocking at you. I jubilate your majesty. I curse your infamy and suppose thy slimy shores. Water of life.

Reflection! Your occurence saddens and pleases at once! Eyes are diving into the promises you cannot keep. If I could, I would soothe your pain. I feel your call, it reverberates in the void you breathe out. The mirror lies broken, a pitiful reminiscence of the unity it longs to bear. Absurd shivers, scattered all over eternity. Observing the gradual decay of the structure I once called home.

I chase away the tiredness you spread. I choke out the seed you planted once. Crying, raging, smashing the veil I suspect, but virtually traversing the garden that means life.

4. Nothingness (redacted lyrics, based on Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852) “Alciphron“)

Darkness, black In th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Looking as if Just varnished o'er With that dark pitch, the seat of death Throws out upon its' slimy shores A reservoir of darkness, black As moon–drugs In th'eclipse distilled Feeble creature, suffocating, choking, crying, reeling, dying A cleansing metamorphosis shall sweep away my stupidity Leaning to look If foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore The jetty sides As smooth as glass Looking as if just varnished o'er With that dark pitch The seat of death Throws out upon A reservoir of darkness, black As witches' cauldrons are, when filled With moon-drugs in th'eclipse distilled Leaning to look if foot might pass Down through that chasm I saw beneath As far as vision could explore Slumber, watcher, till the spheres Six and twenty thousand years Have revolved and I return To the spot where now I burn Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The skies! Other stars anon shall rise To the axis of the skies The stars that soothe The stars that bless With the sweetest forgetfulness Only when my round is o'er Shall the past disturb my door A reservoir of darkness, black Darkness, black As witches cauldrons.

5. Slumbering in Relativity (Florian Engelke)

Traveling in sickening forgetfulness. Changing in relativity. Existence within a lie. Yelling into nothingness. Lucid eyes are searching for something in a void. Ignorance is a comfortable perspective. I am gazing towards the flickering light that fades within this nothingness. Why?

Of Trees and Orchids

Thought Cathedral

2001

1. Primordial dullness

Instrumental

2. Thought-Cathedral

Oh, what a pleasent silence dominated the thought-cathedral in the bygone times. I remember the pale moonbeams that shone through the narrow windows I didn't dare to approach - fragile figures of light that gave the icons life in the twighlight with such an exquisite tenderness that amazed me again and again. In such moments I used to observe the children of the moon dancing on the shady flagstones, enmeshing the rigid statues and trying to elicit them cautious smiles. Very often I sat under vast vaults of marble, musing deeply on this diffuse why, sometimes startled by a shouting jester or this scintillating veil of ignorance and lacking comprehension. But this reflecting fool's stream of consciousness never ended. Now and again I stirred at the altar flanked by mighty arcades that towered into the opaque nothingness of devouring doubts. Neither ornaments nor vague inscriptions embellished the still columns and walls in this dim palace that reminded me from time to time of a terribly vast shroud of tenderly falling rain. A fragile sheen of rememberance then glittered from afar relating of times before I closed my eyes to fall endlessly and to roam in unknown spheres in search of the thought - cathedral. Finally, I reached it and I felt relief. But now? Although I understood such delusive visions, they enlightened my mind. During serenades of Chopin and Tschaikowsky the horned serpent Ninnghizhidda winded up the arcades murmuring cryptic spells. Enki, the father of Deep sang ancient poems in a warlike manner, and I saw the majestic gardens of Babylon and Ur in their spendid times. The colours of chaos revealed brutally to my bleeding eyes; I observed my anxious face emerging from an ocean of devine subjugation, laughing idiotically and being drunk of transcendent wine that got soiled by the cruel tyranny of decadent gods in battle. My face, a desperate mask of ignorance. My hands, grabbing for the wildly swirling thoughts in these halls of disorder. I remember I awkwardly tried to catch some of these chaotic reflections that took on farcical forms. Sometimes I captured one of those poplymorphous entities. Then a shrewd idea lamented in my merciless grey hands. In such moments a suffocating desire strangled my throat. I felt the necessity of obtruncating and dissecting such whimpering thought - shivers and I suffered from this cruel need that filled me up. That is what was, that is what is. I still dwell in the thoughtcathedral, musing deeply on this diffuse why, sometimes startled by a shouting jester. I am haunted by delusive ideas of cognition that try to engulf my reflection. Eons are passing by. There's always hope when I succeed in catching one of those swirling ideas, studying its subtile anatomy. I am waiting infinitely for the day I understand the thought-cathedral's architecture. That is what was, that is what is, but will this e'er be?

3. Solitude reflection on linear despair

Instrumental

4. Beyond the thought-cathedral's gorge

Sometimes silence tortures the lucid consciousness to such a degree that the quality of observation dilutes in the passionless void of my apathy. From time to time it oppresses reflection and gnaws at its wings until croaking delusions rot in the blood of their self-caused wounds. More often silence thunders like a myriad of mountains tumbling down and burying life with no mercy. I am ignominously prisoned in the thought-cathedral's silence! Sometimes I imagine the patient crows floating around the thought-cathedral's towers I never saw. Vague shadows that shout from afar, mocking my weakness cruelly. Quite often silence smacks like an old hideous animal that devoured me a long tiem ago. Here, I am withering in the thought - cathedral's bowels. I know that I have to escape this silent tomb of stinking loneliness. To write this down means a fragment of order in the gloomy chaos that surrounds me like a thick substance and estranging me from myself. I have to close my bleeding eyes! I have to forget the creeping silence in these halls of disorder that rape clarity permanently! I have to lay down all my needs! I have to aspire to (the) harmony beyond the gate of the thought-cathedral's gorge.

5. Nyarlathotep

My flight should be yours. The consequence of my hatred towards this obnoxious opaqueness of my thoughts. I have now opened the gate of these halls of perpetual sleep. My eyes are dazzled and twinkling in the splendour of truth and virtue. I observe the truthful waves of an incredibly vast ocean of knowledge, tender waves that surge onto the soiled shores of these silent walls of lie. Suddenly an abrupt fea rgrabs for my feeble limbs. From deep within the thoughtcathedral's bowels a dull plaintive cry passes this ruin's threshold? I have to flee now, leaving behind the gloomy chaos, the creeping chaos, this oh so malicious and omnipresent consciousness, paralysing clarity wickedly, Nyarlathotep! A messenger of the old ones that are dancing infinitely in absurdity within the spaceless and abstruse mess of distorted dimensions no eye will ever see. Now I am standing on this dim tomb's threshold breathing in cognition and observing the waves of knowledge comforting my feet. I emerge from a blissful veil that caresses my crippled senses. I hesitate. I am standing on the border between lie and cognition unable to move. The crows are swirling around the thoughtcathedral's tower mocking my weakness cruelly. And I didn't walk. I didn't behold what is precious truth. I didn't walk and now I am cocooned by this obnoxious opaqueness once again. I am ignominously prisoned in the thought-cathedral's bowels, musing deeply on this diffuse why like so many others that wither in the ruins of their defiled reflection. I am roaming in my thought-cathedral's halls, mocked by the crows I saw a long time ago, and Nyarlathotep's chaos fills me up, reminding me brutally and for all eternity that the thought-cathedral's gate is closed now. But I found a secret seed when I saw truth in its splendour.

7. of trees and orchids

I dream of trees and orchids in scarlet spheres. I dream of seven moons shimmering above twilight chapels. I dream of hills overgrwon with trembling juniper. I dream of silent colonnades leading through stony archways in infinite gardens. Acacia woods hem in mossy busts covered with ivy. Endless paths run under the dark branches of elder firs. Mon cher ami de pierre. Est-ce que tu as jamais revé. Est-ce que tu dors sous les voix majestueuse des arbres gris? Mon cher ami de pierre. Parfois, j'écoute ta chanson triste. I grope my anxious way through whispering beech-forests. And I discover myself sleeping in my close bed. Under an ancient column with weather-beaten inscriptions. You, kissing my white cheek and crying silver tears. Can't you help me, beloved one? Don't wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream. Lie down close to me. And let me see. Your poetry. Mon cher ami de pierre. Est-ce tu as jamais pleuré? Pour le lierre tu chantes des serenades au soir. Viens, mon ami, danse avec moi sur les prés en été. Viens! Of trees and orchids the wise man sings in minor. Ponds are reflecting the foliage's play. The oleander is in bloom. And sylphs delight this fragile beauty. Oh, my trees, oh, my orchids, what a nocturnal romance. And don't wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream. Lie down close to me. And let me see Your poetry. What a nocturnal romance.

of Trees and Orchids

Fragmente aus dem Fließenden

1998

1. Sublimer Sturm 1

Instrumental

2. I am swimming in the end

And while my little friend, The nightingale Is weeping in those woods. I, secure in my sleeping house I am drinking the dark air. I am swimming in the end, I breathe the warm atmosphere. Floating above misty fields. These days will end. The glassy hedge grews under seven moons. And I promise eternal love. I, secure in my sleeping house I am drinking of the dark air. I am swimming in the end. I breathe the warm atmosphere. Oh, I long for living words. Oh, I hunger for poetic flowers. Oh, I search for tranquillity in lyrical arts. Oh, I desire beloved silence for my tired limbs. I curse you, don't dream of me. I dismember your flesh. I lap your faith. I sear you, my love. Don't dream of me. I murder in words, seduced in poetry. I cry for totality. Sing, little bird, sing. Please, gladden my mind, flying wish. Anxiously, I am hidden in my chamber. hungering for poetic flowers. I am searching.

3. of trees and orchids

I dream of trees and orchids in scarlet spheres. I dream of seven moons shimmering above twilight chapels. I dream of hills overgrwon with trembling juniper. I dream of silent colonnades leading through stony archways in infinite gardens. Acacia woods hem in mossy busts covered with ivy. Endless paths run under the dark branches of elder firs. Mon cher ami de pierre. Est-ce que tu as jamais revé. Est-ce que tu dors sous les voix majestueuse des arbres gris? Mon cher ami de pierre. Parfois, j'écoute ta chanson triste. I grope my anxious way through whispering beech-forests. And I discover myself sleeping in my close bed. Under an ancient column with weather-beaten inscriptions. You, kissing my white cheek and crying silver tears. Can't you help me, beloved one? Don't wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream. Lie down close to me. And let me see. Your poetry. Mon cher ami de pierre. Est-ce tu as jamais pleuré? Pour le lierre tu chantes des serenades au soir. Viens, mon ami, danse avec moi sur les prés en été. Viens! Of trees and orchids the wise man sings in minor. Ponds are reflecting the foliage's play. The oleander is in bloom. And sylphs delight this fragile beauty. Oh, my trees, oh, my orchids, what a nocturnal romance. And don't wake me up, just wander with me in thy dream. Lie down close to me. And let me see your poetry. What a nocturnal romance.

4. In search of infinite cognition

Here, under the calm branches of a lonely oak, I stand, listening to their fragile poetry and licking my mental invality. From afar I hear the hysterical thoughts of a desperate prisoner. I absorb sadness and gaze at his ethereal body. A cacophonic tune pulsates through my vains, the oak's leaves are trembling in an invisible wind. I am pleased about a timeless idea of the tree, defending me against sublime resignation on my philosophical journey. A chaotic cloud of subjective disorder submerges my wounds.

I am paralysed by the stench of human vanity. New intellectual wounds are bleeding, the vehement pain of others is soothed. Homo homini lupus? Are we condemned to bear this suffocating idioty for all eternity? Sometimes the relic of the hopeful metaphor of eternity satisfies my desire for cognition. In this fatal paralysis the idea of my mortal remains shimmers under the december full moon. Oh, my philosophical thoughts escape into the starlit constellation of Aquila, Lupus and their servants.

Here, in the diffuse interstellar atmosphere no psychic malnutrition mortifies my flesh anymore. The immense gravitation of black holes swallows my universal reflections, darkness rapes my misfortune, universe devours it's elemental decadence. The starlight filters out my agony. Now the distorted harmony of cognition arises like an eagle under the wise age of Andromeda's velvet eyes, an eternal euphony seduces the stars and suns. Harmony is reborn. Often I wander through the cosmic spheres in rapture, observing the gloomy nebulas floating between the stars, infinitely! And in the nocturnal skies lies salvation, release for my deep desire. Firmament, galaxical endlessness, what a devine gift you are!

5. Antiquitäten (Wolfgang Borchert (1921 - 1947))

Erinnerung an die Hohen Bleichen

Weitab vom Lärm der großen Gegenwart, verfallumwittert, ruhmreich und verlassen, stehn stille Dinge Rings, verstaubt, apart ein paar kokette Biedermeiertassen.

Darüber wuchtet bleich ein Imperator, doch seiner Büste Würde ist gegipst. Ein ausgestopfter Südseealligator grinst glasig grünen Auges wie beschwipst.

Der bronzne Kienspanhalter Karls des Weisen blinkt über Buddhas Bauch und seinen Falten. Die Zopfperücke hat noch einen leisen verführerischen Puderhauch behalten.

Malaiisch glotzt mit hölzern starren Zügen ein Götze. Fahl erglimmen Zähne von Mulatten. Verrostet träumen Waffen von den kriegen und klirren lies in Rembrants weichem Schatten.

Der Totenwurm in der Barockkommode tickt zeitlos in den ausgedörrten Wänden. Betrübt summt eine Fliege ihre Ode – das macht, sie hockt auf Schopenhauers dreizehn Banden.

6. Meine Doktrine

In withering trees, singing their song. I did pity the terrerstrial eyes of an apathetic whore.