After the End

Choronzon will be appearing on two compilations in the near future. Firstly, monde, at the helm of Choronzon West, shall have a track on “Women Take Back The Noise“, an album showcasing women industrial artists, to be released by ubuibi. Their site is definitely worth checking out.

Additionally, confirmation has arrived from Krullenzith that the “Visions of Destruction” compilation, including one Choronzon track, is soon to be released. Brought to you by the fine folks at Chaotic Goat Records, this promises to be one of the few compilations worth getting. This has been a long time coming, but it’ll be worth the wait.

Chaotic Goat Records in their own words: There has been a few Chaotic Goat releases over the past few years includeing demos, EPs, and full lengths from Crimson Massacre, To Scale the Throne, Splinters of Death, Krullenzith, and Gates of Enoch.

Herr Krullenzith also finds time to create music with several projects including Gog, (It was inevitable), Gates of Enoch and indded, Krullenzith.

Confirmed Bands for “Visions of Destruction” are:

Adversary of Existence
Anarazel
Arum
Bound in Human Flesh
Choronzon
Dagon
Ethernal
Forever Mourne
Gates of Enoch
Lament Configuration
Lord Beherit
Nodens
Seraphel
Sothis
Splinters of Death
Terra Noir

And get the Panic Pandemic download or podcast, already. They will not be up forever.

Now I bring you another freebie: CD1 of Panic Pandemic is now available for download here:
http://www.choronzon.org/pestilence/panic_pandemic.sit.
The zip file includes cover art, disc and the tray inlay art. When you burn it to CD, be sure to leave no time between the tracks, as they flow into one another. Feel free to trade this album, as long as no commercial use is made of it.

Trust me when I say; this is but a preview of what’s to come.

Coming in July is a ritual involving Choronzon’s East and West, squeezing the American continemnt with pressure from both sides. What is to ensue will make this one seem like AOR radio.

The mick #17 is out! For those few of you who don’t know, this is one of the best deals you will ever find, and he does it again, month after month. (I don’t know how. A lesser human would have burned out by this point. The amount of loving work that goes into this magazine can be seen on every page). The Mick is the magazine released foir free every month, or so by none other than Mick Mercer, the man of many Goth books, venerable music journalist, and the sharpest pen in the business. This issue is 112 pages long, featuring tons of reviews, interviews with IKON, Abney Park, Monica’s Last Prayer, Tears For The Dying, Veronique Diabolioque, Villa Vortex and Zombina & The Skeletones just to name a few. If you read this and tell me you didn’t discover a new artist, you’re lying.

Go to this page to download:
http://www.mickmercer.com/themick.html
Right click and ‘Save Target As’

The pre-order page is now up for Panic Pandemic! As I said earlier, the initial volume will be a full color book with writings and tons of art in a limited edition of 333 copies, (of course), copies will be signed and numbered and will come with two full-length CDs of brand new material.

The release is set for the middle of July for this, then New World Chaos will be unleashed, leaving an opening to the Abyss in time-space continuum.There are some details on the page, which shall be updated frequently over the next week.
The podcast and other items will be removed on the release date, so grab them while you can. I’ll put the buttons here as well, out of crass commercial motivations. Those of you who don’t have access to Paypal can email me to make other arrangements.

Order here while you can:

And, I’have something for you right now. I haven’t forgotten my earlier promise. The first of the promised freebies is the podcast of the entire first CD included in the book:
The first thirteen songs are from the album, followed by a few other items. Play it loud!

If you don’t have a podcast-friendly rss aggregator, you can go here or here to download a client.

Just for the sheer shamelessness of it. You can use this button to buy art, as well.

There is a homeless man I keep seeing everywhere I go. It’s uncanny. I have never caught him looking directly at me, but he must be observing me. Something tells me it’s important that I know more about him.

“Bring me the files”.
“We’ll have to move fast. If they carry it out, thousands of people will be killed”.
“I just want the names”.
Nothing will be done. Not until afterwards.

A strange frame of mind runs through silhouettes like skewers. The successive breed is a wonder to behold. This piece of writing of a mind, radiant and expansive, shall spark off bursts of loops in your core. I distinguish every single one with excessive ambiguity. The vainness hypothesized envisions the last part. I will bleed all the living dead dry. I’ll be the cause of the last part. This is how the world ends.

Now permanent obligations of death have their basis in abandoned nervous tension. Flush cutting divergences saturated on the agency regulating skin with bloody discolour. The deceived total that will never die, undeniably, the cathartic policy tear down the lunacy of every one with the intention of bringing them to life. Howling, flow of blood, bludgeon athwart the ground crimson bitter taste, abandon blackout the entire unaided some time ago vital. Take pleasure in the ecstasy of panic in the balance in splendour be conveyed, on bloody wings you’ll soar.

“Has there been any publicity”?
“Not a mention. They know better than to broadcast such things without directions from us. They don’t want to be locked out of our propaganda”.
“OK, I want no communication on this that can leave a trail of any kind. Bring me the statement”.

When the embassy is cold this time of year meaning hangs together in Ravenousness. Disaster restrict realize NOCTURNALLY erected SCAFFOLDS, shocking plans and decomposition will die next week. Subsequently fabricated REPUTATION Aggravate Peevishness should dislike be an adjunct to the moonlight is vivid understand SETA, B61-11 and Satellite imagery will mean Vaulting garden path will veto BUYOUTS, WALK OUT ON and Ingrained Incontrovertible-10. I hope Pestilence. Habituate yourself on the road to your will, you shall be eliminated. When the boundaries tumble, you’ll be crushed.

“It has happened.”
“Excellent. Is the press corps ready?”
“The press secretary is briefing them as we speak. It’s horrible, sir, I fear the buildings are about to collapse on the rescuers”.
“Well, that’s most unfortunate. Get my speech writers on a tribute to them. I’ll need it in half an hour. We’ll wait until the building collapses, or not, and then I’ll make a brief statement. Is the situation taken care of?”
“It’s all in order.”
“Time to get going”.

Drifting on a current of air, cutting in its sudden fear, the persistent liquor moves a shadow in the direction of their resonant insurgency. He can sense something changing beneath his hazy vision. He is a faltering, Graceless Operative, a Livid Embodiment of common fears unleashed in the watery, Ambiguous night air; a sudden panic ruptures the night like a slashed throat.
From the burial places, the lingering, detached sleepers realize: they do not yearn for him, but for him to endure, their lassitude prevents. Their prevailing shriek into the cold measureless night redoubles; now materializes from resting places living consciousnesses in somnolent outer shells.
He feels the scorching pulsation and blistering flesh and boiling blood.
Dwindling fears come to pass, without doubt, he lives.
That was it, for sure; the process proceeds to aftermath.

None of it made sense until I mastered the trick. It had to be hidden from all others, but they seemed to be surprisingly willing to be deceived. I am on a perch from which I can feel eternity. I can weave elaborate jokes that flow outward like raw sewage.
Watching my own bodies decay and that which grows from there, it unfolds pragmatically, this explosion of new beings, parasites, broken down cells dispersing, sweeping my essence throughout the universe. I reach to the edges of time and simultaneously have an outside view of the whole.

The silent stand aside, screaming. Seas of blood swirl around them in a storm of heat and clamor. Decomposition has many things to tell you, things that are crucial to your well-being, truths you have been seeking for generations. Sometimes you act like you can hear, but it loses all coherence at these moments. Sometimes your minds take the atmospheric gibbering and fit a pattern over it, creating seeming inspiration, giving their shouts the shape of stories.

The dreamer of worlds is in tatters. The empty streets taunt him with their glowing windows and passing cars. Drifts of snow, as in his childhood, lie in filthy, shoulder deep hills, inviting him to rest.

Time comes unhinged.

Incomprehensible, it can only be heard when one is alone, in ones own company or in a wilderness of multitude.
The dead lie in an intractable, unthinkingly inspired restriction. Struggling in their vaults, all their profound horrors unchained. Unearthly endeavours in seething death flight. Their solitary witness walks isolated never-endingly conveyed by long forgotten nightmares, degraded progressively to rouse the ones he doesn’t know he hears.

Drifting on a current of air, cutting in its sudden fear, the persistent liquor moves him in the direction of their resonant insurgency. He can sense something changing beneath his hazy vision. A faltering Graceless Operative Livid Embodiment unleashed in the watery, Ambiguous night air; a sudden fear ruptures the night like a slashed throat.

From the burial places, the lingering, detached sleepers realize: they do not yearn for him, but to endure, their lassitude prevents. Their prevailing shriek into the cold measureless night redoubles; now materializes from resting places living consciousnesses in somnolent outer shells.

He feels the scorching pulsation of blistering flesh and boiling blood.

Dwindling fears come to pass, without doubt, he lives.

You have your orders. Aumgn-Ha!

Keep an eye on this space, for I shall have a gift for you, as a preliminary step towards the release of “PAnic Pandemic”. We’ll be ready to take pre-orders by the end of the week, and may even have a sneak peek at the book. The initial volume will be a limited edition of 333 copies, (of course), signed and numbered and will come with two full-length CDs of brand new material.

The writing has been taking me in directions I could not have predicted, but such is the nature of Chaos. More info will be forthcoming over the weekend.

Recent communications with Fennis Eldritch brings great news. Haunt, an intense movie using some P. Emerson music, is in the final stages of post-production. It’s cool to see people doing stuff in my old hometown of Boston.
A review of the directors previous effort can be found here:
http://slasherpool.starbase.se/htm/reviews/campdaze.htm

Interesting group of people, these. In their own words: SK Productions is a Boston based company dedicated to the creation of cutting edge horror and thrillers with a modern and intelligent edge.

They’ve pulled quite a pool of talent.

And the Damnatus compositing reel is now available.

Obscurity growls and swirls in lusty celebration around me. There is no time, no space, just being, just non-being. Worlds come and go; they come and go pulses of entering and exiting, being and non-being. HA! Tribulations swirl into the void. Chaos comes to pass in splinter groups; the wrong people seem to be crying for evasion, the alarm verging on pandemic.
Visions fade into a general morass. There is no room, no home. Shadows dance enticingly in the peripheral vision.
Order cautioned you once about the restricted: Ominous systems of conviction feign being secured and wasting away, lofty cenotaph to psychosis illuminating unseen resistance.
Surrounded by the structure and at home with divine censure, limitations of long-established punishments arise. A vision external to the majority view becomes harder to maintain. Close at hand, dire events befall the most unlikely people, resolute in their refusal to be perturbed. Excessive calls to vote for the small difference, others mourn the herd mystification.
Powerless to bring to a halt ancient deprivation, eloquent with mortification: we’ve come to a decision flanked by ill-use and philosophical haemorrhage and as a consequence, vast. Devour your wail whole more willingly than devils with their means of the process adherents. Possession is not able to be forfeited, just before the throne of judgement, we search. Oblivious to events in another place, in the least likely manner to be approaching common men, actions unfold. Fevered transgressions portend near drowning in the human race, waste, animated with dread.

I’ve been noticing that things seem to have a strange glow about them today. I thought at first that it was the quality of the light of the rising sun, dancing in my vision with the remnants of the dream I was trying to shake out of my brain.
I always have felt less than solid upon awakening. Dreams have always stayed with me well into the morning, even when I can’t remember them. Indisputable sensations tickle every inch of my skin. The blanket feels like it’s crawling with millions of tiny legs.
I scratch my side, but am unnerved to find that my nails and the skin I’m clawing at feel grainy. I half expect the skin to be coming off in my hands, but am relieved to find that it stays. Shaking my head, I thrust myself onto the floor, noting that the carpet feels springier than usual. I’ve always hated wall to wall carpeting, but when one rents, one has to accept the domicile as it is.
The windows are waving like the window panes at my grandmother’s ancient house in rural Maine. But the waves and imperfections of her windows do not move.

A strange frame of mind runs through silhouettes like skewers. The successive breed is a wonder to behold. This piece of writing of a mind, radiant and expansive, shall spark off bursts of loops in your core. I distinguish every single one with excessive ambiguity.

We stand aside, screaming. Seas of blood swirl around us in a storm of heat and clamor. We have many things to tell you, things that are crucial to your well-being, truths you have been seeking for generations. Sometimes you act like you can hear, but we lose all coherence at these moments. Sometimes your minds take our gibbering and fit a pattern over it, creating seeming logic, giving our shouts the shape of stories.
We can only be heard when you’re alone, in your own company or in a wilderness of multitude.

None of it made sense until I mastered the trick. It had to be hidden from all others, but they seemed to be surprisingly willing to be deceived. I am on a perch from which I can feel eternity. I can weave elaborate jokes that flow outward like raw sewage.

Obscure as I usually am. There’s been a bit of controversy here, though not visibly. A story told with words, pictures and music.

Bring the End MP3

I told you once about the Christ:
Sad dogs, whipped and starved
Towering monuments to insanity
Betraying hidden desire
Among the bones and in the shadows
We stand outside their view
There is no god to choose the few
Lament their confusion

Unable stop knowing else:
Choose between drinking bleach or gasoline
Swallowed whole by a media saviour
Promise not to get any on him
Halucinating vultures sleep near
drowning in their waste, dying in fear
The sodomizing spear brings the serpents kiss
This column of light shall detonate your heart

I see all too clearly the futility
I see the end
I will bleed all the living dead dry
I’ll bring the end

Now why should death cause a strain?
Even biting chrome drenched with bloody stain
All the fools, indeed, the liberating rules
Tear asunder all that may bring them life
Crying, bleeding, dancing across the floor
Red black, red black all alone once more
Enjoy the thrill of fear of what’s in store
In glory ride, on crimson oceans glide

Ornamental Crypto-Anarchy

1. Advisors, councilors, wise fools
providing crypt-analysis,
confabulating tales of judgment,
encrypting providentially. 2. He
feeds on the blood of his lambs
through delicious rhapsodic osmosis.
We die for his sins. Each day we are
reborn, clamouring night after night
to be slaughtered. 3. In lust, he
swallows fire and vomits locust
swarms. 4. Otherwise, our corpses
cease their dance. Rancid in their
dies-ease, outwardly breathing their
convictions, alight with the pages
they dance bright. Bereft of wisdoms
respite and rages they never quite felt.
We are distracted, never present,
other moments dim in our recall. 5.
Father, baptize us in sanguine
streams; lead us into conflagration.
Shiver among us; reward our evil.
Bring us this moment our eternal
torment. 6. In the halls, other
places: delight in blasphemous
embraces. Submerged in unfelt
appetites, wet and enslaved by stark
delights and permitted rages flaunt
their lost souls. Infernal saints and
tacit mages, impassive tyrants
languish, precluding sages silenced
by the pulchritude of innocence. 7.
You are bereaved and blessed, for
in your death you have bound your
progeny to join you.

Lust Beyond Flesh MP3

As I stand behind the gates
All other creatures succumb to pain
And I strain to bring to mortal life
These unholy dreams:
Our fathers legacy abandoned
In the blood-stained fields

What we find behind the Veil
Could not have been expected
Fulfullment beyond desire,
Lust beyond flesh

The fight will bring me to my grave
But a hallowed seat I’ve earned
My lips will taste the sweet reward
Honey and fermented juices

Shining will: the carnal consummation
Of the holy fires kiss

Entrancing world of blood and heat
New visions upon which our eyes feast
New signs, open minds transcending pleasures pain
No craven whispers revealing strain
No more forgotten meaning

Nocturnal lives in hidden places
Burn brighter than those who claim the light
They cannot die for they dare not be born
Love lost, love scorned, love stabbed in the back
DAATH remains

Raining Down

A demons physiognomy in extasis
Locked in a grim and hopeless rictus
Laughing, gibbering, all sense expired
A livid chanting greets the fatality of frost
The barren cattle call beneath the locust swarms

The end shook us awake,
raining down, Driven like snow
no lie, no mass concensus
we are no more, we are no more

on bloodied wings on past grey spires
enflames a sanguine dance
to wanton glory we aspire
caress of crimson rain
a hollow shrilling calls
through forgotten catacombs
a shriek, a lash, a crushing blow
levelling ancient lies

The end shook us awake,
raining down, Driven like snow
no lie, no mass concensus
we are no more, we are no more
now, go to sleep sweet hollow child

Love, Strength: Lies MP3

Sweet, demonic current of remorse,
yes, you are there.
Dire circumstance of convictions:
you wouldn’t dare.

I feel the warm, hollow thrill of damnation
when I follow you down
when I cover my eyes,
when I kiss the dying heat of your pulse.

Swollen toungues convulse with laughter,
apparent, yet unknown.
Fading beauty of structural divinity;
evil designs of love.

You are forever happy spectre of pathos,
always hiding your strength,
never,prayers,rife with lies.
Static void dispersing dead spirits,
always hiding your strength,
never, prayers rife with lies.

Perdurabo (magog Agog)

And as the sands of time
conspire to bury me forever.
Pathetic dance of fools
awash in deaths joyful endeavours.
Awake, it seems, sadly to be
lonely and in search of distractions.
all their squandered hours,
their unused brains conspire to erace me.

I shall endure – Perdurabo!
Though only through a torturous opium – dream.
I did not survive the abyss,
but I hope to leave this world alive.

As smiling I place my bloody hand on the lever,
it has come to this; happily I ride the white horse of dreams.
The Aeon.
The Crowned And Conquering Child.
I am his flawed and sad herald.
Seeing me, even Magog is agog.

Crimson Awakening

I awaken to a world of great lustre.
I feel the earthen pulse of all breathing.
I hear the voices just beyond hearing.
I know the thoughts just beyond comprehension.

Red permeates the dying grass.
Red lies beneath the drying leaves.
Life shall elude me no more.
Death plays not the role it had before.

This land I’ve Never seen before,
nor these people standing all around.
Though this land seems so familiar,
I do not know how to get back from here.

My sanguinary dream.
My crimson awakening.

Demons Play mp3

Feeling the fine caress of blades
through fires that entomb.
Wounded devils stand tall,
loudly calling us from our wombs.

And hellish voices surround us
like the embrace of a dead lover.
Bathed in the glow of dancing lights,
we look up at a vast demonc cathedral.

We cannot bear to touch.
We fear the day.
It is all so much.Much too much.
Unpredictably he Demons play.

We are impenetrable,
lost in obsession and rituals.
Change terrifies us,so we cause it,
a preemptive strike against the demons whims.

Emaciated ghosts fade from view
now that we have arrived back in Eden.
Serpents writhe the brutal dance of God
as wishes fulfilled become our greatest fear.

)+( )+( )+(

We are
Intransigent, insouciant umbilical noose
Writhing in my grave, all my Demons let loose
Unearthly endeavours in seething death flight
All alone on the pavement, vile dreams to incite

And blown on the winds taunting chill
The rabid elementals moving me towards the hollow hills
A stumbling golem let loose in the pallid,
Dancing moonlight; the frost rips me like talons.

And the grave, the long, cold sleep, the end
It does not want me, but to live, Hades forefend
The raging howl into the cold vast night rises
Raises from sepulchers living souls in slumbering guises

Aum-Ha, Aum-Ha!
Hot pulse and fiery breath
We are, yes, we are.