Daimonologia by Ioannis Kleftogiannis

The daemon is my friend
Rising from the grave
to do it all over again
The dark arts to enact
lonely and abrupt,
without remorse
Hoping for the worse,
against the
the odds
Howling
at the fool moon
with the whores
and the hordes,
the playful chaos,
the joyful anarchy,
the rebellious sons
and daughters
The others
The brothers
The ones who
are always right

With the black masses
risen from
the burning ashes,
spread to the seven winds
to the south
to the deepest
to the cruelest
to the wicked
to the sickest
to the mad
and the sad

Praise the cowards
The shattered shards of
Buruburu
The murmurs of Alu
The mouthless blind angel
crawling in the night
It cannot hear the screams
The shatterer of dreams
The divine claws
slowly creeping
in the flesh,
in the blackest rooms,
where the children
of the red abyss
wait and dream
The abhorrent abominations
waiting at the shores
of the endless black seas
Drinking with the serenity
Facing the eternity

Who dares to betray the light?
Who dares to embrace the night?
Under the cruel starlight
The blackest
of the black books
tells the tale of the
explorer with the right hand
on the sun
and the left hand
on the morning star
The lonely Tsar
with the scorched wings
The son of the horned beast
The daughter of chaos
Who dares to drench
in the sweet stench
of the goat?
Who dares to swallow
the venom
of the demonic toad?
The miasma of miasmas
The goetia of the goat

The black shade
against the light
The white silhouette
sucking the night
The shepherd of the worms
The earthly tools
In the black woods
it dwells
The bridegroom of the damsel
Guide of the
severed head.

Follow the prophet in black, face the black chasm, embrace the abyss...

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