This Post Wasn’t Planned.

The Post I did have Planned for Today got fucking Sidetracked, and as I drank some Beers on The Front Porch this Little Ditty Barged into My Brain. Sometimes Shit just Shows Up inside My Skull Spontaneously seeking Recognition and a Home. Enjoy.

Working Title: Come Here Conflict

I feel like a Fight

I just want to Fight

Something is Unsettling

Vexing Me Constantly

Antagonizing My Mind

The Impulse To Lash Out Uncontrollably

Without Real Reason

       

I Welcome Inflicting Violence

On Myself and Others

My Inner Sadist  is Not Alone

Without It’s Masochist

Both Feeding Like Parasites

Sickening The Soul

Growing Grotesque

I want to Bleed Profusely

To Live in Utter Primal Abandon

Embraced By Anger

Fueled By Contempt Feed with Disgust

A Clenched Fistful of Rusty Nails

To Crush Faces Along With Skulls

Spitting Venom and Spitting Teeth

As Bones Are Broken, Blood Spilled by the Gallon

Vengeance Gives Birth To Revenge to Vengeance Again

        

Watching Them Die By My Hand

Butchering Bastards and Slaying Sons of Bitches

Annihilating Abominations bodies Torn Asunder

The Cry’s of The Dying Facing Eternal Damnation

Mutilated Flesh of Mangled Corpses

Savagely Ripped Limb from Limb

Bathing in the Blood of Enemies

The Brutal Carnage is Glorious

Victorious

       

There Are NO WORDS HERE

Speaking Is UNNECESSARY

We Communicate With Only Our Eyes

Aggression Needs Alleviation

Just Like Everything Else

Time To Battle Back.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

The Black Metal Experimental Lyrics

I have been a Fan of Black Metal for some time now, and many Readers may have noticed I use quite a Few Black Metal Pictures in Posts. Some of My Favorites are Goatwhore, Nocturnal Depression, Silencer, Immortal, Mayhem, Dying Fetus, Burzum, Bathory,  Gorgoroth, and Dark Throne to name a few.

Over Time I have Noticed Black Metal Lyrics are all about Death, Doom, Destruction, and The Devil for the most part They don’t dwell on one particular Subject per Song, But rather They tend to stick to the Bigger Picture working on broader scale.

So I decided for shits and Giggles that I’d try My hand at Writing some Black Metal Lyrics so Here It Goes Ladies & Gentlemen………

       

Savages Feasting on Bloody Flesh of Their Foes

Slime Covered Slores Bay at the Blood Moon

A Secret Place of Lore where Cadavers and Corpses

Copulate to Feel alive Once More

Bloody Entrails ripped from Rectums

The Defiling of The Flesh

        

Devils and Demons engage in an Apocalyptic Orgy

Behold The Aborter Birther of Bastards

A Cemetery worth of  Mutilated Carcasses

Rotting in the Sun, Purifying in the Sweltering Heat

Vultures gorge Themselves on the Decay

        

Gouging Eyes, Tearing Tongs, Deafening Ears,

Parasitic Souls Languish in Lurid Lusting

The Things that Go Bump in the Night

Adorned with the Fresh Skins of Man

Enslaved in Despair and Soaked in Sorrow

The Maggot filled Mouths of Murderers

Blasphemously Born of the Kracken’s cunt

       

The Ender of times licks His Lips anticipating Armageddon

Damed Deities demand Damnation of the Abyss

Broken Backs, Severed Heads, Amputated Limbs

The Brutality of Burned Bodies

Eternal Torture in the Fiery Pits of Hell

there lies the Destiny of Humanity

Suckling at The Withered Tit of The Witch

What Fresh Hell is This?!

        

Thanks for Reading,

 By Les Sober

The End of Abe

Adventures Abroad Alluded Abe as  He was Afflicted by Absolute Alienation.

Believing in the Brutal Beasts, and Brilliant Beauty that lay Beyond the Binding Borderline Abe Bested Blinding Boredom.

The Cretinous Creatures Creeping in the Caves and Contorted Crevasses of the Canyon Passes Contorted Continually in the Cramped Confines of Abe’s Addled Cranium.

Death, Doom, and the Destruction of Dueling Damnations Dwelling in the Dark planning Travelers Dastardly Demented Demise a truly Dire Downfall. These Damnable Demons Did not Deter Abe’s Dedication to Defeating The Dreadful Doldrums.

Enraged Empires of  Eternal Enemies Eliminating Their Extravagant Evils  Encompassing the  Entire Earth. Enslaved and Entombed in the Elegance of the Endlessly Empty of Everlasting Eternity Elated Abe.

Fabulous Fantasy’s and Frenzied Fears Found Abe Floundering in His Fleeting Feelings when Faced with Futility, and Frantic Failure Found Abe Faltering Fast.

The Gruesome Greeting of the Gnarled Giants and the Greedy Ghouls Under the Governing God’s Grandiose Generosity Guided by Grief Guaranteed Abe Greatness at the Gregarious Gathering of Graves should He Go.

The Harrowing Heroism required to Help Humanity from the Hellacious Horrors that Hexed the Haunted Hollowed Halls of the Horrendous Hateful Horde remained Hidden from Abe.

Intense Interest leading to Illogical Ideas Illuminated In the Inner Insanity of Incredible Independence with its Intoxicating Introspective Ideology Irked Abe.

The Justification of Justice and its Judgement Jeopardized Abe’s Journey.

Knowingly the King kept a Kaleidoscope of Knowledge Keeping His subjects, His Keepsake’s Kainotophobia soaked in Kava and Kelter. Abe’s Kiang Kicked in Kippage like a Kylin preparing for Kriegspiel.

Lowlife Lingering Leaches Loitered Leaving the Lusting Lushes Lining the Lanes Liquored Leering in the Languishing  Low Light.

Murderous Madman and Monstrous Maniacs Marauding and Maiming, Mutilating, and Mauling all Mortal Men Making Moves to escape.

Numerous Numbers of Nauseatingly Noxious Gnomes Nastily Gnashing their Nails like Gnarled Knives Navigating the unknowingly Naive to the Netherworld.

The Outrageously Omnipresent Oppressing Overlord Observing, and Ogling Oddities Outside Ominously in Outrage looking into Organized Oblivion .

The Pungent Plague of Paranoid Predatory People Peddling Putrid Pickled Poisons as the Pragmatics Proudly Ponder the Plunders and Perils of a Perverted Purgatory.

Quartets of Orcs and Queasy Queens Qualms, Quarrels, and Quips Quashed Quickly over Quests and Quarter Quota.

Rabid  Reprehensible Rouges Relishing Repugnant Revelations of Riotous Revolt, and Raging Revolution’s  Rancid Retribution Fulfilling Repulsive Resentments against the Reigning Restrictive Rules.

Sinister Soldiers Sloshing and Slipping in Shit as they Sustain Their Sin through Slaughter Seeking, Succumbing to the Sniveling Smiling of The Smirking Snake’s Silent Salvation.

Terrifying Tyrants and Tyrannical Theologian’s Tremendous Triumph of Terror in Thriving Thieves a Terribly Tragic Trophy of Terror Thus Terrible Trepidation Throughout The Temples.

Abe’s Ubiquitous Unrest in Utopia Utilizing the Uniting of Unforeseen, and Ugly Unabridged Universal Undertaking that Utterly Undo the Undying Uniform Understanding of the Unknown Underground Escape.

Villanous Vixens Vomiting their Vastly Venomous Virtue Vanquishing the Vexingly Violent Vision of the Viking Vermin.

The Wildly Wicked Wizard Warlord’s Warrior’s Willfully Waiting for the Wretched Wonders of War  against The Wallowing Witches of the Willow’s Werewolves.

Abe’s Xenagogue’s  Xenium of a Xanthocomic Xenagogy readied his Xenization as a  Xyresic Xylotomous.

Yeagers Yaffling and Yauchle in Yagmiment’s Yallacrack and Yaw-Yaw  over Yakka as Yeverous Yellow-Yowling Yeggs indulging their Yird-Hunger fueled the Yoke-Devils until Yonderward.

Zabernism drove Abe to Zack, to Zaggle avoiding Zowerswopped Zed Zobs searching for a Zitella to join him in his Zigzaggery, and Zugzwang journey to a Zneesy Zwan to live out their days in Zwodder.

Note To The Reader: I’ll be quick. I know especially with the trickier Letters of the Alphabet such a XYZ it look as if I’ve gone all Dr. Seuss, and just started making up words as I went. This IS NOT the case.

GOOGLE any word I’ve used throughout for DEFINITION(S).

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

The Views of Vikings

As I mentioned in a Liquor synaptic storm I mentioned  (in the previous post) that today I would be posting something pertaining to the Vikings.

First off Vikingistic is not a recognized word, but English is such a half assed shit language I see there no reason Vikingistic should’t be a viable word.

Vikingistic: Having the Attributes or Likeness to or of a Viking/Viking Culture/Viking Life Style.

Now on with the Post.

I think a brief refresher on exactly Who and What Vikings were in Reality. Over decades of Hollywood Movies and Television Shows have been given one hell of a make over/rebranding.

According to Movies/T.V. Vikings are portrayed as  Stoic, Brave, and Honorable Nomadic Warrior Explorers. This couldn’t be FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH.

Vikings in Reality were complete Savages who’s bloodlust was unmatched. Vikings spent their time Drinking, Fighting, and Fucking through countless conquests. Vikings were brutal Barbarians that raped and pillaged anyone or anything that crossed their path. True the Vikings were explorers, BUT NOT in the traditional sense.

Vikings unlike say Charles Darwin for example traveled far and wide to Discover new Cultures, Animals, Sea Life or Plants. Vikings did the EXACT OPPOSITE. Vikings traveled for one reason, and one reason only to Rape, Pillage, and Destroy ANYONE they might come across,(and take their land for Viking expansion and EnSlaving Women and Children that is if they decided not to butcher them for the sheer fuck of it.)

Vikings though (more than likely due to their Lifestyle) had a total acceptance of Death, They had no Fear of Dying. This has been immortalized in the saying “Today is a Good Day TO DIE.”

Now Vikings didn’t say that shit to look tough or like a bad ass before battle they said it for an actual reason.

Vikings believed their Nordic God’s had scheduled the exact time, date, and day of their Birth. AND Those same God’s had also scheduled the Time, day, and date of their Death.

Another Key Viking belief was that a TRUE (and only appropriate) death for a Viking Warrior was to Die in Battle. For if a Warrior died in Battle not only did he die an Honorable Death, BUT he would be rewarded as well.

The reward for dying in battle was that the deceased Warrior’s Spirit would be transported to the Halls of Valhalla (The Viking Version of Heaven/Paradise) where a Viking could indulge in all that he loved while living. This meant his Spirit would spend eternity Drinking, Fucking, and Fighting.

Bottomline: Vikings Loved Violence and Hedonism to such an extreme that even in Death a Viking could spend eternity doing EXACTLY as He had Lived..

Believing this apparently led to the total acceptance that death is inevitable thus one shouldn’t be concerned about it. This is the concept that I’ve been mulling over recently.

With My inevitable demise due to my shit heart, the Doctors who want to run me around like a fucking Lab Rat, and Still come to the same conclusion PLUS the fact now they want to continue to their Frankenstein shit cutting me open again I have to ask myself is it worth it?

Obviously Dying isn’t the only option, BUT when I ask is it worth this is what I mean. If I get all this medical mumbo jumbo done yes I will live Longer anyway you look at it. My question pertains to Quality of Life.

Is it worth all the bullshit, time, pain, and most of all MONEY if after I spend my life strapped for cash, living pay check to pay check barely scrapping by because I’m buried under mounting of mounting medical bills.

Point: Do I want to spend my elongated life utterly stressed out and poor as shit due to massive medical bills? Sounds like financial fucking Slavery to me. (“We’ll save your life, FOR A HEFTY PRICE.” that is so fucked up I can’t believe I’m typing it.) This is America and CAPITALISM has turned Life Saving Medicine into a FUCKING BUSINESS full of Greedy motherfuckers.

So were the Vikings Views on Death really the best way to deal with one’s Mortality? Who the fuck Knows, Not Me.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Obliterated Sunshine By Spacedog

.One cold and rainy day in September, I layed my head down for a short nap. I had a few plans for that day, no more then most days, but felt a certain comfort and a certain ease in my steps. It was about to happen. The clouds that had gathered in a firestorm around my head were beginning to clear up from their eternal misery and gloom. I carefully placed my head on that pillow. He was next to me. He who could exist only as a dream, as a figment of my imagination was breathing right there. I had to pinch myself to believe that everything that was happening to me really was. It’s always like that pinch or suffocate, pinch or suffocate. The greatest day of my life or just Halloween all over again. I closed my eyes. I thought if I kept my eyes closed that time would stand still. It really doesn’t, you just don’t really age at all. It’s like virtual Botox. Anyway…..time was not standing still it only felt like that illusion, it was that illusion for that moment. I fell face first into that illusion. I didn’t have time to catch myself as my right cheekbone crashed into the tar of the road. I forgot to pack my angel’s wings and couldn’t prevent the cascade of gloom doom richotting down my spine. And then I was awake. I was here typing this blog. Here but really gone. Enigma speaks from her cave atop the highest mountain. The villagers perch their ears to listen. AWAKE? No, it never really was a dream. It was reality. Long obliterrated sunshine. The memories having been forgetten, no longer really exist. They only exist in my own head, only as real as Ebeneezer Scrooge or Hayden Caufield or Anne of Green Gables. They are real, but if you are the only one left that can remember what once was, should we hold on to these things or leave them long forgetten? I am a firm believer in the mind. I know what it is I am here to do (shhhhh I’m not telling) and believe that is something else forgetten. Not obliterated forgotten. I only wish my obliterrated sunshine could rise yet again but that would be like hoping for 90 degree weather in Alaska. The sun may rise again but it will never be warm enough to cascade into where things reach comfort. More of an uneasy chill. Nah. I would much prefer the dark of the moon. The sun can play her games with me another day.

Centralist by Spacedog

I am not a fuckin’ savior. I peel away at people like onions. We all do. Some of us are the peeled and we cry. Some of us are the instruments that scalp. Away. Away. Away.

 

We peel away the layers.

We peel away the sunshine.

We prefer it this way. Peeling away until there is nothing but barren terrain. Nakedness of the soul.

I see that barren flesh. I run. I hide. I capture but I do not seize. I growl at myself. I cannot kill the already dead. I cannot usurp what is already fallen at my feet. I plot. I ponder. I smile, I beckon them forth.

 

Centralist

I have always stood in between time and reality. I have always liked my part in this pathway towards truth, towards honesty, towards good.

I have always hated my lack of proofreading, my lack of utter care over things that most writers would throw hissy-fits about. Is this proper grammar? Am I spelled this write? Yes I know right.

I play dumb for the prey to think I am as such. It is not a very nice thing to do, but do it I shall. It was how the wolves conditioned me. Maybe I’m still just a wolf.

Most likely though, I fall in between. I am a centralist or centrist. I care not to look up spellings in dictionary.com. Usually words flow in my head that don’t make sense. Nine out of ten times, they are real words and I do a little spellcheck and poof they become what they were intended to be. Microcosisms of my head spewed out to the masses herky-jerkedly like a disenfranchised orgasm at a self-righteous porno store.

Yes. yes. YES. !!! I would think if I had a bigger ego, that yes I am the fuckin’ Dr. Phil of the next generation. I have been in the middle of many things. I somehow italicized my shit and have no clue how. I havent been in the middle of any bi relationships but if I could have would have just so I could enlighten you all further. But that is not the point of this blog. The point is this………………………………………

there comes a time…….. when we as people need something more. I need more. I hear my friends call me after many a beer and I hear my friends after many a sober evening. I do not hear stability call. I hear everything but.

I write and write and write some more. There is no sense to the melody. There is no reason to the rhyme. Perhpas if I could hear the music. I could tell the tale better. But I have equal melodies of those captured by the waves of the substances and I hear equal melodies of those not captured by such.

What road should I travel? What road will hurt me less? I care not. I care to live.