Ghosts of Light

The sound of silence from the cracks, from the dark From the deep roots of life come the echoes of the mind Black pages torn We dance until we reach the end, with them ghosts of light Until our last autumn falls

Submitted by Grave666 — Jun 17, 2026

The hands that feed you have been there where the Serpent eats the snake There where flowers of kaamos abloom and the dark is the light The hands that hold you have been there where the sun lays dying There where one is more than infinite and thoughts become grey like the sea What you'll get is a kiss from the mouth that swallows the bleeding sun The dragon with the flaming crown rises from the ends of the deep Blessed with a poisonous tongue, loves his followers to dust Where written word is true and the night becomes one, there the dying light greets the ever expanding sea Thus you should leave through inclined to stay The words are sound but the will is weak What you'll receive is a kiss from the mouth that swallows the bleeding sun

Submitted by Grave666 — Jun 17, 2026

I've seen the dying sun set while wandering these shadowy paths. I've looked into a dead portrait, seen the lifeless image fade away. An angel of death laid his arms on me. With ash-like wings erased my decadent smile. Led me to my last pathway, to the halls of withered glory and rupturing gold paint. There I met the ghosts of light. In delightful verses they sang to me. How the mighty fall before his grace and the chosen few rise in Celestial Light. To this revelation I opened myself. I devoured every word, found solace in them all. Greeted myself with a collage of past pain for where there is no sorrow, one truly can't be free. "It's like a paradise; come, rejoice! It's like the garden of eden with a slithering snake and the purest of tongues!"

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

Joy is defined by the level of rapture in our dreams. It is a journey through twisted realms, to the garden of withering time. There the memories of past hang on burning twines, the weeping goddess dance then fades away with the coming of light. Grief is a tribulation. A war within. A regretful journey on the river of time. A call from these songless shores. There the mute dwell in dismay, amidst the fires and under the rain of ash the Gods cut their tongues. Fear is the essence that holds us down, castrates us of our will. Sucks out the hunger and desire to explore. It diminishes the spirit while keeping us imprisoned in this flesh. In the end nothingness devours us and these cold sweet dreams will come true. The key to perfection handed by the ghosts of light. Death is a passage from this life. Our path to the infinite of stars.

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

In an instant he shall flood the world. Spread the plague of the pure. Blight the word and behead the newborns like a sarcastic poet of the light. It is like swallowing razors with a fresh doze of poison. Bleeding from all orifices while he exterminates your dreams. There he will be when the hammer of god falls and Behold! The locusts sing his name! While maggots feast on the corpses of the flies born anew from the stream of filth. The stream that will consume us all. He is the brightest star burning strong like the sun. Even the angels weep before his grandeur. In an instant he shall storm the world, spread his joy to the dimwit lambs. Carve the stones with his commands. Swim in the black blood of the innocent and the apostles will follow by drowning in mud! Like lambs to the slaughter the divine will fall. All the skies crack open as the golden kingdom burns. The father and the son shall get drunk of the vine. The divine will fall as the kingdom burns.

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

A pale figure standing in insanity's grasp. Leaning to the arm of his throne while being lectured by the demons of the void. In his decadent glory he ranted of morality, beauty and righteousness while he feasted on the minds of the meek. His kingdom reached far, a mirage built on lies. Now he stares to the sun while being lectured by demons of the void. With his crooked smile and deceitful eyes he told prophecies of better days while he slaughtered the minds of the weak. There they were all gathered to bathe in his glory and with the wine made of tears he healed the wounds of life. Now he stands there on the carbon ground, silently laughing and gathering the grey. In the silence of the earth, above the stars. The ones of misery as twilight's glow...

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

The code written in dirt is the law they proclaim. These self-righteous men of madness being praised by a pack of mindless sheep. So when their spirit turns to stone and two equals one; The pure are kept on leash, their moral in ruins. Lust and greed, hypocrisy force fed. Their sanctified hearts dead as stars. The knowing awaits the slaves or so they say. No hallelujah to praise but these wicked saints. When the rotten choir is heard peace is but a blessing away. So the sickness keeps spreading, hailed as the holy word of truth. In their psalms of anguish they promise; In agony and torment repentance will be found! Empathy is a meaningless word and their god forgives so there they stand in the blood of the lambs and the feeble cry... When absolution requires the slavery of mind they worship their images on altars while vomiting the fluids of life. The truth is buried in a river of gold. The gospel they spread with joy is nothing but a machined lie. The hand that writes their fate is that of profoundly insane.

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

A yearning cry from the dark woods, like a forlorn spirit calling. The whispering wind and the harbinger of grief eerily singing the tunes of desolation. Leading the innocent dreamer towards a dismal, the final path. The shady figure amidst the trees and the howling night birds patiently watching. Following her every move with eyes like the void, the piercing stare. Lost but holding on to the hope of finding a way, a path leading to the golden gates of salvation. Oh, but the stars they fail to shine through and the moonlight is covered by pale clouds. Then the claws strike fierce, they strike deep. On her knees praying, pleading and begging. Surrounded by the weeping spirits, the soil becomes her grave. Now she's lost, gone and forgotten. Buried to the realm of death. The gatherer devours the soul and the wind cries her last song.

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026

Amidst the falling dead leaves silent lie the one in grief. Under the darkest of skies torn apart by hurt and regret. The seasons change but the misery remains. In the morning mist a lonely figure. On a stony bed a picture burning. Time frozen for the one in grief. Deeds done but the misery keeps its own. He sees the sun go down, the gallows call with a promise of one final relief. The plague of madness spreads, he can not see the way and all the moments they shared are being murdered by the guilt. The cold breeze carries the tunes. Silence the songs of longing. The tunes of melancholy. The endless songs of grief. So the ill-fated bleeds a sigh of deep relief. Welcoming the Ghosts of Light, swaying in the wind with a grin.

Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 21, 2026