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The Shrouded Muse of the World's Lament

by Stagwounder

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YomaBarr
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YomaBarr November, a month of list wreckers. This is so good that it hurts. What a feast. What terrifying beauty.
I'd have to live thrice as long, and I'm not a kid, to see Stagwounder fail yet. A living proof that masterfulness, elegance and darkness can live together in the land of twilight.

Sonnets. Goddamn SONNETS.
/
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1.
2.
Look at god‘s most wretched creations marked and signed by the troubles of life! Enduring pain is their steady companion and their gloom is absorbing all light Inmidst this mess they all shall find solace Lament‘s muse shows her secrets to them. Not to the mundane crowd, never enlightened Never sprayed with blood nor touched with the coal Oh they are just dust in the ruins Blown apart by the stormwinds of levity Spread across the forsaken lands All divine nipped in the bud. Woe is me for I am lost for i sit here drinking stale wine writing signs on the canvas drawing tales with my blood. The cogwheel of fate turns in relentless precision crushes the skeletons of souls into dust. Teeth grinding ceaselessly in their transmission valor to grit, armour to rust! And the mills roll on as the winds blow and the flour pours on the soil. the lynch mob gathers with bloodshot eyes - never healed - never perceiving they steadily soliloquise. Forcefulness slowly gets strangled gently choked by the rope of triviality under the gallows of inspiration the sacred grove where we lovers meet. Her silhouette teaches us silence - words are silver but silence is gold. All these quiet lessons in violence the new will be just like the old.
3.
Great expectations weaving a winding sheet For all belief Over the edge of space it floats away like haze into the deep What once seemed to be worth every breath Is nothing but shapes in the mist What once used to be carved in stone just riddles that cease to exist Senses declining ouroboros unwinding twisting and squirming but never returning The face in the mirror  disappears like a ghost slowly melting away  airy notion matter in motion  fading along with the day Through silent dull air sounds a scornful song a small night storm whispers „not for you“ „not for you“
4.
Dark you call the future But it is day shining like suns Far into the distance reaches the past of yesterday's glow Whoever dives into its night Will be blind like the mole drawing its lightless corridors through forlorn empires under the apple tree into the bowel of wrath Forsaken is god and the well of life’s water We dug our own cisterns, broken and leaking Souls crawling through tombs – not of their own experience building a vault for the monstrous coffin of hope. Knocking desperately at the gates In the delusion to become what others have been Doubter Look at poor Abschalom Proud like the morning star He hangs on his hair Heavy as a millstone hangs tight around the neck all his burdens shall rest upon all of his heirs O hope – show me faith O self – build her a marble shrine to entomb her remains And esperance whips her wild team across the marshlands of history Through the feces and the carrion Grinding the hopeless towards the abyss of desperation Hooves trample the guilt under wheels …
5.
6.
Like worms in a forest fire flee the heatwaves digging deeper below intricated in the roots of bitterness we are lost in the bardo of dreams. While the ghosts of long since sunken dead gnaw the flesh off the spine of vanity The thin line distinguishing life from death image from person is hidden from the eye instant karma, lemurian nightmares steady reflections of faces on the blood in the grail The gems that you reach for are unreal as phantoms floating in dreams and luminous illusions presumptuousness led us to far away places in sackcloth and ash we return. Reveal me utopia a world in a nutshell Where promise means failure and exactness is fake. Be confident liars lose with euphoria Let grief be your guide in times of disgrace Through this vale of tears this dismal place where our own stunning visions Will be the key to the realms within ourselves a feverish sweven in which the young light marries the dawn In the eye of voidness life is but a dream ephemeral poem shadow and hollow foam Set ablaze your wisdom Let the pyres burn incinerate your visions Forget, undo and unlearn So our praise shall be with the dead Not with the ones who still suffer from living And the ones who never have been Should be blessed for they haven’t faced evil forever we‘re yearning for former days times of grace sun and glory but deep in the marrow we know that nothing will ever come.
7.
This day I awoke in poisonous smoke from my sleep upon pillows of rust And I spoke to the wild like a motherless child All alone and unable to trust. And a flood cleaned the streets, freed the gutter from creeps fluid moment when dust turns to mud and a cloudbursting rain numbs all your pain but it only retreats to come back. All the bridges I crossed - ropes that I tossed on the endless ascend to apex have been wasted time – i was led by blind one woe keeps devouring the next. Powdery mildew spreads over those living dead Trapped deep in the paltriest of lives Destitute - ill repute – suffer in solitude Not an acre of wheat will survive. ruthless, cold determination pushed by forces of gravity into the bottomless pit of idle self-contemplation marks the tombstone for destiny on the massgrave of time. Disorder and devotion - rivers become oceans a maelstrom - crushing coastlines leaving chaos and commotion flotsam and jetsam washed ashore by the waters within the most precious things this pityful life can bring Mankind, Apes in search of salvation murderous crown of creation drenched in morality, behold the catastrophe We are the heavenly ill congregation winding in self mutilation like a turin horse tenderly we embrace our misery.
8.
9.
From the unceasing stare of the heavenly eye the true heart sickens where the purifying streams of life ran dry as the blood thickened. Icarus in the glory of his own mortality could not break the silence of divine winds with blunt claws and featherless wings. Self-loathing sprouts underneath dark shades which have never been pierced by the flash of the blade. A white veil laid down on the green that night between pillars of black reflecting the pale blue light. A play of colors - a subtle death in disguise spreads his fragrance like swarming fireflies. Pure, radiant - like cherry blossoms in spring know nothing but falling - dying in beauty within. If I go riding the waves my corpse shall crown the foam If I cross highest mountains deep moss shall grow on my mortal remains But if I die at his holy feet and breathe my last black breath From my dead body shall grow new seed And I won’t ever look back. Most horrific self inflicted wounds caused by the sword of truth, Death without deliverance and atonement of guilt, Punishment in the form of life and the dawn of the flesh.

credits

released November 26, 2021

Recorded in March 2020 at RAMA Studios Mannheim

JR - Vocals / Kohelet - Guitar / Nein - Bass / DD - Drums

Guest Appearances by
Wolfgang Kirchheim - Guitar solo on „Monologe ...“ &
Martin Pohl - Piano on „Das Leben längstversenkter Todten“

Mix and Master by Tobias „Schwarzton“ Schwarz

All songs written by Stagwounder, Lyrics by JR and Kohelet

Cover Artwork by Kohelet & Stagwounder

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Stagwounder Heidelberg, Germany

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