Charnel Noir
May these flambeaux gathered here burn away The acrid essence, mass burial bloom Torches to illuminate this night of death As this incense ascends in putrid plumes From Les Innocents to La Tombe-Issoire Endless fount, charnel noir May these carriages move through the silent streets An ever-flowing ghastly flume As holy oil spills over bone piled high A curtain draped thick to a tomb
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
By her glow, an ivory gown emblazoned with stars trails through the autumn leaves, and with every step the current of the night crackles and echoes against worn stone beneath Like a cruel, poisoned apple hung perilously within reach of the hearts of the weak and the helpless, hiding all the mysteries of Hell in her teeth Our night hours Throats deep drawn Dance by moonlight Until the dawn Immersed in shadow, arches and balustrades cut across the moon from the foulest of crypts and the grandest of coffins we come, gathered to cherish this evening anew
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
One by one the candles are lit, flowing wax onto brass once more Five, now six.. eight, nine, now ten Two soft faces, deeply hollowed in the gentle flickering Shivering, graceful fingers wrapped on stems Fear is fixed for each lunatrix Stillness, peering through panes Bathed in icy lustre, the threshold crossed, gasped breath Ardent flames dwarfed by her luminescence All cold white Covered in ghost moon light High spectral eye, its piercing gaze Ringed in murk, spirits astray A holy turn, all given praise This is the night of nights and the glow decays On this night Covered in ghost moon light
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
I am the fire stolen from a poor man’s pyre The yellow nail of a withered hand I am the cinders soaked in life that hissed away The sickly froth of chien enragé I am the marrow of a stag that feeds on snakes I am nyfitsa that conceives by mouth All of these things I am Let the light shine down on you In her gardens of venom, on crooked paths Hymns in hemlock in violet hue I am the ancient night of Thessaly I am the oracle of Rhodope The poison word that draws down moon and stars above I am dead mouth of prophecy All of these things are me
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Behind the cemetery walls, its iron gates shut An opium-pyre burns bright On the fringes of sleep, somewhere near death Spirits will contort to the tolling of midnight bells Caskets, caskets, lids of caskets And the fruits of the dead are ripe Caskets, caskets, spirits rise through their lids And the column of smoke spiral high The veil between worlds is thinning The soul is never lost, the channel is open Upon this sodden funereal earth As the clouds churn and obscure above, conduits of lightning and salt May the rain come down and may the gateways be bridged behind the howling wind Listen to the ghosts flow into dirt, up through their caskets’ lids
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
A doorway A yawning, malevolent mouth of pitch Tread lightly Long-forgotten oak underfoot Climb Every rasping creak claws the unstill night Through foul glass, cold light shines Unearthly rays, worthless sage and amber, burnt in vain Do not disturb this place The shadows move, the shadows move Eyes through gloom They are here in every room The shadows move, the shadows move Filigree scored through black That light casts across the floor Against the wretched weight of this realm Reaching through a rotting door Walls worn Faded and yellowed where fingers once touched All things breathe in this eerie glow And then, a scream from below
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Faster through this dense wood, a road with loose ends Hooves mark the careening journey alone In frenzied panic the shadows edge ever closer Our own hearses crafted of our own bones Hungered, feasted, and we have slept We have communed through tears, and what is left? Make us the end Endless procession of the guillotine Endless processions, for a lust sanguine Grant us this gift, here and now At the centre of your world We are your flock, and we will feed Their end of days, returned
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Twilight, and all is still Twilight, and dread fills all hearts For what awaits No sight, lines shimmer The purple in the sky fades They will be here soon Spectres Like breaths of black mist In autumn’s creeping chill They come through fog They come through rain They come through night Again and again Pale throats Windows ajar, eyelids close
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
(Flee, children, flee!) From the horrors that reside in the dire marshlands From the low droning songs of the lamenting dead All of this, and so much more The priest declared from his rotting pulpit (Flee, children, flee!) From the trenches in which the godless abide From the alluring promises of the menacing dead All of this, and so much more The priest declared in the midnight sermon Fangs in the tree of life Flee into the night, all ye sons of disobedience! Attentively I listened, and ran far afield (from the light) Into the time-worn chapel, strangely gleaming in the dark Seamlessly blending with the congregation (of Judas) In a communion led by a faceless man I drank and I ate Rotting wine and mouldy altar bread The blood of the serpent, the flesh of the beast And in the marshlands I dug my own grave A haven for the damned
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026