fear rituals from the 49th parallel no.5

diesel generators moan and reverberate in sinking tower-blocks as oil drum fires flicker and spit…  drone cameras flying high above all the ruined cities of the western lands… dead sentences igniting, enraptured in mid-air… here are litanies of fear from the 49th parallel; blazing wounds in a chemical sky…

battery-fluid kisses, sickness caked in lead… a campfire smoulders, illuminating the treeline as a series of effigies steadily sink betwixt the diseased mangroves… the verb to live, the verb to die…  suffocating bliss, existential immolation… forbidden-forest fornication in the phosphorescent shallows…

landscapes alive with burning tyres, burning towers, burning oil-fields… factory smoke stacks hang dormant above empty lots, project housing, alleyways, school-yards, gas-stations… riot shields and blast-walls, tear gas and barbed-wire… plastic-coated dead, swollen-babies, vultures on the gallows swarming…

out here shine no stars from the discoloured heavens… only masked incantations in moon-menageries of hell, ruined pavilions and wind-shattered dreams… laughing lovers languidly lay together, new atoms inside them liquefying… sexual excavations birthing flowers of new formaldehydes…

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black monolith rituals from the old world

gathered together with my 667 guild brother, artist lucien shapiro, and expert film-maker arvid wuensch, this last week saw the performance of a very special ritual here in the depths of the old world.

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for now, might i share a few images from the locales of the sun-down segment of the invokation, but hint that further still-image evidence will be forthcoming within the coming weeks.

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how i will also reveal that a short-film and music video will result from this communion, in association with anette records, and shall be unveiled at a time when all things are in their correct place… stay tuned for more information…

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fear rituals from the 49th parallel no.3

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a chemical sky blankets the city as a blazing sun hangs buried in a discoloured heavens… a campfire flickers, illuminating the treeline as a series of effigies steadily sink betwixt the diseased mangroves… masked incantations in moon-menageries of hell… guard-towers vowing to reach up through the smog…

grain elevators in flames… a ruined pavilion reveals a wind-shattered dream… abandoned train-lines ache, rusted and lost… landscapes alive with burning tyres, burning flowers, burning fields… factory smoke stacks hang dormant above empty lots, project housing, school-yards, gas-stations…

riot shields, blast walls, tear gas… a lone generator moans and reverberates in a sunken outhouse as an oil drum fire flickers and spits… a camera flies high above all the ruined cities of the western lands… pages unbound, and burning… a sentence ignites, enraptured in mid-air… here are litanies of fear from the 49th parallel…

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fear rituals from the 49th parallel no.1

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…grain elevators in flames… a series of totem poles sinking betwixt the mangroves… a church tower daring to reach up through the smog… abandoned train-lines writhe, overgrown and forgotten… factory smoke stacks hang dormant above terraced homes, alleyways, school-yards, gas-stations… a dismal sky blankets the city as a blazing sun hangs buried in a yellowed heavens… a lone generator moans and reverberates in a sunken outhouse as a campfire flickers and spits… a coleman lantern glow from a quonset doorway… water bubbling in a rusty pan, the sound of metal-work… a camera flies high above a ruined city in the western lands, detailing the devastation as it moves from outskirts, to the suburbs, to the centre itself… a soundtrack of rusty chains over a freezing-cold stone floor…

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