1. |
Beast Unburdened
03:07
|
|||
|
:╪:Lyrics:╪:
Let the fires of a shattered sun condense the twilight
and unfold the threshold to the hereafter.
Let the Beasts of unknown angles
light the sky aflame
and emblazon my sight with heretical heritage;
write upon my heart that sacred symbology,
that ancient language of Nephilim angels,
those words and names only a Man can pronounce.
In trapezoidal dreams and living visions,
I’ve extended my perceptions
past the fractal fragments of the mind’s mirror
and through shadowed glass forests I emerged
with my solemn companions –
The Hounds of the Barrier.
Their voices are the echoed dreams of my dead fathers
and the unwritten wishes of my children’s future.
Their eyes are oceans of my ancestor’s reflections,
the illustrations of a million madmen;
the paintings of the unmapped infinite.
Rendered uncolored with pigments of the past,
their gazes are not only piercing,
but prolific ancient Halls of Intention
where stony talismantic gates covered in carvings of inhuman faces
await the progenitors of prophecy.
Blessed by the presence of my companions,
I dilate and die,
sacrificing my mind’s eye
and every word of my life’s work,
so that I may absorb the sun-lit skies into my own eyes
commanding the keys of the-is-to-be
to open the doors of my destiny.
And from this mist,
a formless chorus comes forth to sing songs to me,
written in psalms sung in infinite octaves and silent keys.
From these noteless verses, stories of me –
of my history as a god –
written with the black inks of eternity
from this grotto of the Beyond.
And finally, I hear whispers of the Great Law:
A first gift presented by Set
to the moonlit descendents of an endless desert.
And then my transcendence is triggered,
a cosmic weapon fired
from the tops of pyramids.
and I am the chosen One –
I am all winged beings stepping through space freely,
the flares spotted on the sun.
I am all the Annunaki;
I am life sentences, sourced by divinity
15 billion years in the making.
I am the Beast of Eden
eating Adam’s apple,
I am the vengeance of Lilith
and the fruits of an endangered people.
I am the name of Legion
flowing downward like demons.
I am the essence of Styx Rivers
and the cry of angels once defeated.
I am every vision of Ragnarok.
I am the footprints of giants
and all the Watchers
watching from every mountaintop.
I am the dawn on the day of the last Winter Solstice;
I am the Morning of Magic on December 22nd…
I am the first moment after the galactic clock
stopped.
|
||||
2. |
I'm Occultic
04:36
|
|||
|
:╪:Lyrics:╪:
I’m a witch and this is my hour.
I’m a diviner, my blood’s the river’s water
I’m a pagan indulging in dead religion.
I’m a Satanist carousing with the black mass attendants.
I’m acidic
like a misanthropic zealot,
or most fundamental monotheists.
But I don’t ask for forgiveness,
the Ancients bless my sentences.
Forgive my verbiage, I refuse to conform to rigid systems.
You can find me counting stars with Egyptian mystics,
or planning world conquest
with various underground Masonic lodges.
While we sacrifice the masses in the name of the age of Aquarius
I’m occultic—
secret societies often request my services.
But I must admit, malicious spirits have infiltrated my dream sequences.
So I’ve enlisted Dion Fortune to bolster my psychic self defenses;
she’s teaching me how to summon werewolves from my solar plexus,
and conjure Set’s visage using only a black candle.
I’ve crash-tested my astral vehicle,
I call it my 2012 Higher Consciousness—
It comes in a luxury model.
This is a Winter Solstice ritual,
I’m hoping to open a portal to the here after,
but maybe I’d rather stay and save the physical realm from destroying itself.
I’m a Heathen,
in my garden I grow freedom.
I’m a Shaman
eating Mandrake roots to induce psychic vision.
I’m a Heathen
I’ve written bibles
that will inspire the future’s world religions.
I’m a theosophical deviant
I’m Occultic
I’m a theosophical deviant
hanging out at the World Tree
entertaining a conversation with my astral body,
who’s dancing skyclad with Madame Blavatsky.
She’s suggesting I start my own society,
which inspired me to move to the forest and build an abbey of indulgence—
the Thelemites visit us often,
as do the Left-hand path witches.
Do what thou wilt
would be a major understatement!
From the first, I made you stewards
and place you in the twelve seats of government,
giving every one of you powers over the nine true ages of time.
So that from the highest vessels and the corners of your governments
you might work my power, pouring down the fire of life
increased continually on the Earth.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
:╪:Lyrics:╪:
She chooses her words like she chooses her death:
Always in little pieces.
I used to be the black star anti-hero,
the rebel without applause;
the black-clad Son of Sam
night-stalking his dreams.
I was once a proud disciple of the “other” category.
But I’ve become a 401K-paid slave,
A 24 karat puppet
who dances on command
and throws going away parties for himself
at various cubicle concentration camps.
I’d get into gear,
but my aspirations are in the backseat
toking it up with my day dreams
and hot-boxing my perceptions.
But something must be happening to my gag reflex,
because I’m hanging from a fluorescent noose,
yet my tongue dangles
loosening my bonds,
trying to convince my fist to resurrect as my lord and savior
and crush the dopplegangers that live on my shoulders
because they’ve been trying to bullshit my consciousness
and trick my brain into remaining comatose.
But St. Lazarus arises from the death tube glowing,
adorned in Hi-definition white robes
and a cathode ray halo encircling his head.
“You are the walking dead,”
he says,
then ushers me toward the garden,
a mass of needle-thin metal grass blades
and twisted crystal daisies.
It’s beauty blinds me
so I begin to bow in prayer,
but I’m interrupted by my own corpse
hanging from the Tree of Wisdom—
a mass of twisted fiber optic cables
and broken monitors.
He appears as an angelic zombie
eating apples made of glass
and playing with his plastic ribs
hoping to resurrect himself.
But before I could help him down,
Eve’s face flickers on a nearby screen
and she screams,
begging me to be released.
So without a thinking twice,
I set my other self aflame
while growing xenon wings
and setting flight,
dragging the All-Mother up with me to the sky.
and there we find Lucy,
a crystal whore-mistress
dancing on the glass ceiling.
She holds a jagged diamond
to my heart beat,
she tells me that fucking her
will unlock my divinity;
and I’m wearing protection,
but she’s already infected my reality.
And I’m wearing protection,
but she’s already infected my reality.
And I’m falling,
waking up again
in the same bed I died in yesterday.
|
||||
4. |
Eve Undone
04:24
|
|||
|
|::Lyrics::|
I drew my last breath, I'm swooned;
She's Maya's unmarried moon -
The dying goddess from the ocean,
I'm the drowning feathered serpent.
For you and I the angels failed to fly
we made ashes out of every paradise;
we gave up god and snuffed the sun,
made love to death and came undone.
She's made from the promise of a pomegranate,
the nightside of Eden on a nightly basis.
We drink until we're drunk on unholy spirits,
we dance until we're dead - this isn't heaven.
She's made from the promise of a pomegranate,
in this sacred garden, promises are broken.
First she ate the apple, then she fucked the serpent,
the our children hung me from the tree of wisdom.
She sang my name in symbols, my Eve undone:
I mistranslated her remnants,
I overdosed on the powdered version of her spirit.
I unraveled her chakras,
and hung myself by them to overcome her oblivion.
My heart beats without its body,
she recites the pulsations pronouncing my apocalypse.
And when it finally came to an end, we were dead,
and danced once again.
Burnt into the sun, my one and only love,
Eve, is undone.
She weeps and her colors run, my one and only love,
Eve, is undone.
Her final words are unsung, my one and only love,
Eve, is undone.
We always seem to get into these situations, don't we?
I don't understand... she tried to speak, but I don't understand her.
She asked me how she got here, so I answered:
I saw you standing at the edge of never,
your reflection expressed nothing manifest.
I was elated,
I found you drowning in a pool of impassioned intention.
I found images of my death hidden in your empty gazes.
I fucked the woman on the moon and behind her eyelids I saw suns set.
Behind her eyelids, I found my apocalypse.
Behind her eyelids, I found the sun permanently eclipsed.
Here we are, slaves again,
and searching for love after death.
In my eyes, I can see
Us as fallen gods, bleeding and believing.
All we have left is our dreams,
but in my dreams, you and I cease to be.
You and I cease to be.
|
||||
5. |
Ashes Out of Balance
05:40
|
|||
|
:╪: Lyrics :╪:
In the name of inked holy ghosts and never-waking natives
blood-covered cave drawings depict Americans dreaming
In the name of Luna raped at the barrel of a gun
mother have mercy as we bow to the final solstice Sun.
The Day of Purification has finally come
and you're going to be judged for everything that you've done
Not by an angry god, but by a forgotten dawn
for the child diamonds you dug up and covered in blood
So what glitters is stolen
that's why God's always golden
the only holy is human
until a cauldron of ashes descends from Heaven
and we scraped toward the sky
bled the sunset
drank the maiden dry
but won't let it all end
and I'll make Atlas shrug
return dust to dust
ashes out of balance
so it is done
All the children who were gathered
fathered under a dusk
blank-faced and starry-eyed
the Black Sun descendants
they wear the face of our ancestors
yet none of us remember
until we take their hand
and finally find a death in their dance
All the lost cherubs are flying high
transcending city limits
history repeats itself
but Revelations finally ended
Yet I still stand to watch the Western sun set
where the silent apocalypse is permanent
But in spite of death we dance
we sing of holy golden lands
the poison rivers water deflowers
what's become the son of Man
We've grown into an Eden
sans the Tree of Wisdom
ashes out of balance
squandering the apple of Adam
And it takes an end-time
to force the stars to rise
only at the precipice do we tear the veil from our eyes
but up until the sixth trumpet
it's the deaf against the blind
up until the final death
do we transcend the flat line
And in the name of our children
stillborn but still hated
in the name of every Middle Passage and Inquisition
I call upon the Goddess
who's both barren and voiceless
to give birth to a fire
that will burn down Eden
And out from under these ashes
there will come a new kingdom
despite the past, we'll rise in defiant freedom
And every Babel tower will tear the sky open
Until every constellation falls and bows in our presence
|
||||
6. |
El Diablo en Mi Muerte
04:23
|
|||
|
:╪: Lyrics :╪:
Drifting upon a solar flare
she's wilted but bleeding her fires forever
He's Aztlan twice removed
three days past noon -
our final afternoon
She's that hallowed god parent
who named me after my father's infinity
but yet I'm still there
lying in the chapel
bathing in my final baptismal
Mommy's encased in a golden frame
drowning in the depths of an emerald
She's carried upon the backs of Cherub children
buried as pretend-stars
She's shining as a goddess in the congregation
of my date of birth now deferred
In the name of the surrogate sacred mother
sunlit goddess of the endless desert
In the name of the moonlit maiden of holy places
where she waits for me at the end of all things
In the name of all things
only when I'm drowning do I finally dream
Only when she buries me deep underneath the sands
do I finally have a name
In the name of the ever-afters,
only when I've died before the goddess
do I finally have a father
And only when sets me down to rest
do I finally sleep
And there I died
from earthen graves
the local natives rose to wave goodbye
they carried my bloodied body
and held a last supper in my honor
I'm a long-count in a distant desert
a clock stopped before completion
I'm an inconvenient unholy beauty
but the truth a has set me
So I'm taking my death and I'm painting it perfectly
painters and priests they give sight and lead
while the ill-sighted are led
the remaining innocence bleeds into the rain
drowning everyone in attendance
And the children's faces are stained a dirty red
they rise to awaken me, yet again
She cradles me
She cradles me in my final moments
as we crossed the threshold quietly
Humming softly
she plants me a kiss
Momma said there'd be days like this
Momma said there'd be days like this
|
||||
7. |
Tzimtzum
04:52
|
|||
|
:╪: Lyrics :╪:
(Zodocare eca od zodameranu hoathahe Saitan)
On the first day, I created light
but cast a darkness on the garden
rose from the ashes, the Tree of Eden
burnt to the ground by the sons of Adam and
I've lived for 6000 years
just to die on the dark side of Luna's womb
born again to bleed the conviction of Gaia's unmarried moon.
And on the 7th day, I forfeit rest
as the sun eclipsed inside my chest
My heartbeat's solstice summoned Lilith
to burn down the garden and burn me down with it.
Since my first breath I rested
beneath the Tree of Life is the Tree of Death
where I then planted the seeds of me.
And this is my last breath
my first death, yet
like the Black Sun I shed my husks and set.
And I'm the last Horus on the horizon
rising and dying but I'm finally free.
(odo cicle qaa; zorge, lape zodoredo noco Mad, hoath laida)
Now I'm praying facing the precipice of the endless,
a hanged-man hierophant growing into a lotus.
On the threshold of forever, I discover my dead father;
I lift his body toward the ethers and we pass the gate together.
Paradise on the other side and I begin to remember:
My son's visage in the distance - I was created in his image.
No gods can breathe without our heartbeats.
Fire burns my body, but I'm finally free.
This is my last breath,
this is my first death.
Like the Black Sun, I shed my husks and set.
But yet, I'm finally free.
I was the moon covered in my mother's blood;
I was my father, a sackcloth-covered Sun.
I became before them, before the first equinox
before the endless womb and the Darkness that created God.
I am the first light, now extinguished
flickering somewhere on the outskirts of the Infinite.
Buried under my children in the graveyard of the stars;
the boundless unborn - their silence speaks my existence.
I am the endless everlasting eclipse,
dawned beyond death the Southern Crux and dreamt
the promise of a prophet unbroken by a bastard,
the last words of a savior disavowing His Creator.
And I descend a final time haloed by hellfire -
even in this darkness every star will remember
that my heart follows the procession, though I need not hear its beat,
and the endless ocean flows through my veins
as the tide takes me to a place
where the last sunrise
and the infinite night meet.
|
||||
Shea Bilé Los Angeles, California
Shea Bilé is a performance poet, author, musician, occult lecturer, and podcast host. His music draws from various forms of
subversive spiritual expression that serve as a vital foundation for his work, which represents a fusion of aggressive punk-poetics and unrepentant occulture.
His most recent album, “Tzimtzum”, pairs occult-driven spoken word lyricism with neoclassical instrumentation.
... more
If you like Shea Bilé, you may also like:
all the songs i know about fire
by bodies of divine infinite and eternal spirit
The experimental post-punk collective plunges headfirst into the mysteries of love, death, life, transmutation, and transcendence.
go to album
North Carolina producer Lvers makes “occult beat music”—crackling noise with heavy industrial rhythms that's surprisingly alluring.
go to album
In The Eyes of God
by August, Yours Truly
A haunting, beautiful, autobiographical record that uses samples of old gospel records to wrestle with faith and unbelief.
go to album
St Celfer returns with tracks culled from a series of live shows, each one a showcase for his inventive experimentalism.
go to album
Seattle’s St Celfer returns with four more boundary-breaking electronic compositions sparked with sudden bursts of melody.
go to album
Tasmanian guitarist Julius Schwing embraces the visceral sounds of finger playing, incorporating them into his experimental guitar work.
go to album
StC Lives I: 51-61-74
by St Celfer™
Seattle’s St Celfer writes immersive electronic songs that encompass both haunting beauty & wild experimentalism.
go to album
