1. Venustus Caedes

So many topics for conversations appear –
Expatiation about sins and expiation.
Someone will say that she just asked for it,
Others will name her saint in blind veneration!
Sure, there will be those who shrink in the corner
In the fear to find themselves in her shoes.

Force of conscience torture
Reflects adherence to morality..
This makes our poor suicide
So saint and unattainable.

Is the repentance worth the crime
When a sinner becomes a victim?
That can stir the pity of
Compassionate little old ladies.
And everyone will say:
She is so magnanimous and fine,
Atoned for the guilt, poor thing!
And everyone will stare
At her
pitiful corpse!!!
And everyone will stare
At the
Beautiful corpse!!

All of a sudden everything ceased –
Shadows of long thoughts, spiritual torment!
Dreamt of oblivion – forgiveness she received!
Death in society's eyes hides behind it more than
Just heart arrest and respiratory standstill
Of a creature looking like us.

Damaged skull gives her image more tensity,
Trickle of blood from the corner of her lips
Adds more sensuality,
Broken arm and mysteriousness it keeps!

Necrophages, feast your eyes!
Hunting Vultures

2. Secondary

Space to breathe the fresh air – no more human beings
Territory means power – take it.
Struggle begins when there are more than one –
The world is too small,
While we are fighting for better somehow-
Times come and go, lives come and go, stories forlorn

Philosophy of destruction – succession at the same time
Derivative of tens order – fanciful reflection..

Nobody dares...
Under the influence.
Nobody cares...
While opposition inspires – Decomposition prevails

It's easy for me to imagine the realm of the dead around,
Decaying zombies with passion in eyes to chew what they've found
So dumb in their crazy undying ambitions they hesitate –
When they are given a chance not to ruin, but to create.

Power of the convictions read again and torn
Don't consume my brains now – Get thee gone!

Thought, born in the subconsciousness depths
Is secondary – just like polyethylene body bags.

It doesn't cost my blood drop – as long as I'm there, – hiding in the shell
If you don't want to get wet –
Don't walk when it rains
But a prompt drop will trickle and get
Right to your neck, right to your brain, causing no pain

Lie is not more a lie
When spoken hundred times.

A game without players and players without a game
A height without the heaven and puddles without a rain
Every hour of the eternity – all the same
Images alternating – mirages to gain.

I want my voice to be heard – No matter what I speak
Efforts to kill the emptiness inside.
As far as I believe I am not blind.
Afraid to recognize the greatest fear.
If it is not here – it is near.

3. Initial

Sensations live,
The instincts conquer the soul.
The honour thieves..
The taste of sweetness,
The rage of dissatisfaction
And all the causes of the world.

Be mine, be wine!
The potion which brings the bliss.
And let the rest just disappear in the dusk
Of the alluring ignorance.

Onward movement to the origin
Where there's no the progress perversion.
Just the nudity of the wishes.
Where all try for the good.
For their own good.

One step back
One step back to the unknown,
Recall the feelings when you was just born –
Shearing pain, seizing frost,
Cramp in veins, Hellish thirst,
First dismay!

Then mother's milk revealed the taste of this life to you.

Joys malicious, but what's initial?
Each breath stays unofficial.

Sheep daylight – the only fortune before the fall.
Days and nights and the constant fear to lose it all..
Primitive leitmotif ages before: WE WANT MORE
The woman's face as an excuse for all the gore!

4. She Smells Death

Withering flowers,
Tuberose fragrance – suffocating...

The realm of sprouts can leave no one quite
Even in the night –
When they give out their sweet smell everywhere outside.
But there's one, who mimicry,
The daring brightness tries
To hide decrepitude and ugliness inside.
She belongs to earth, not to herself
And she thinks illusions will help.
She'll fight her fate
Till the end of her days.

Violets instead of the eyes –
The absurd attempts
To cheat the rules of life,
To get her beauty back.
The colored face lies,
The abyss attacks
Despite of all the tries,
She smells death!

Let the unnatural satin of her lips
Remind her of the petals
Which covered her nuptial bed in the garden.
But now it's more alike
To the stinking blood
Copulating to some rot in a carton.
The mask of a sad clown
Will make all the wishes down.
And once she's taken aback
By her life going away step by step.

It will never be like it was before –
The farther the harder, the worse the more.
The infirm limbs, depleted flesh,
It is the right time to go to trash.
Resistance to aging, self-delusion – stuff is used.
Bright colours confusion – a poor exuse.

5. Panacea

Dim circles, dirt on the walls.
Scums everywhere – that's how you call
Who is not pleasing. Your hatred's mean
For who can disturb your quiet dream.

Little isles of determination.
Don't look at the horizon too much.
Roughnesses and logic violation –
There will be someone in charge.

Time for etch and intimidation
As we see how deepened the chasm.
Scums are sentenced to obliteration
For well-being phantasm

Shoot from the hip with no regret
This is the coliseum judgment
One's death gives you comfort –
Flag in the sky is turning red.

Cruelty is the cure for fear
There is no progress, just panacea.
Ignorance is not a problem – you need an idea.
Fantasy and confidence – panacea!

Allegory is the instrument of shit exaltation
Bathe yourself in menstrual blood for initiation
Fiery speeches, axe in arms,
Hate and darkness – in the heart!

Tame a hungry wolf for it couldn't scavenge you!
Monster in chains for those who don't obey.

Executioners blindfolded
Plod their way dragging axes along
Through the corridors so long
Of this lonely prison-home.

Instead of the daybreak what would they see?
Their eye-bandages stained with gore
Their only task – to destroy enemy,
But justice is not their concern.

6. Dragons Of Emptiness

Parallel worlds and conflicts of co-existence,
Memories of genes – riddles of inheritance
Perfect shapes, roaring at a distance.
Leaking mucilage, hunt for the carnivorous.

Strong muscles, harmonious moves
Danger of unknown, the delights of cognition
When the thrilling groove
Comes through your ammunition.

Mystic and unknown
Blood thirst unfolds
Your enemy – xenomorph,
Inside your body you feel the growth.

Tearing pain, impossible suffering
You're the cell for the spawn
Of whatever you could name it...
Giving birth – from dad to son –
Awful creature, what have you done?!

We never know
What hides beyond
Valleys of snow
Prints on the stone
We never know
What hides inside
Anxious misgiving
Cold space horrified.

Feeling the delight
Even through the pain of regeneration
You miss the deadline
For evacuation.

Closed space, everlasting action –
Rush from the death,
Shrilly "I'm scared!"
There is no redemption
From the middle of nowhere!

Something unlike you came
To raise the claim.

Cognation of slime and blood, my cells are no longer mine.
And hysterical laugh is drowned by my convulsive cry.

7. Humiliated And Insulted

Crystal abyss, crystal sky
Steam is rising from the earth.
Everyone just close their eyes
To the sufferers who fall.

The atrocity of poverty,
The torments of need
Will be the reflection of greed.
Double standard, economic war,
Some bathe in luxury, some heal the sore.

When disgrace is a reprieve of death
It's only censure instead of help
Motivated self-refuse
Martyrs were made for abuse.

Won't her death be better than this life without joys?
It is just a matter of choice.
And if all the unfortunate were dead,
Who'd be unfortunate instead?

Thirst for life will make her suffer privation,
Be an object of constant humiliation,
For her brother, for her beloved ones
She will sell the treasure that she owns.

Once a beauty full of hopes,
Now a faceless gangrene –
What an awful scene.
First devoting, then self-mummification –
Showing signs of stable degradation.

Why the hell does she need freedom and grace
When she 's got the weak to solace.
The consumers tear her flesh to pieces
But that is still her own decision.

When disgrace is a reprieve of death
It's only censure instead of help
Motivated self-refuse
Martyrs were made for abuse.