1. Enthronement Of The Sovereign

To my old homeland I return again
enshrouded by autumnal fragrance.
Blood trickling down from bleaking woods
to the drenched soil – squandered – and seeps away.

On the field through accomplished
cruelty an eminence grise
strides, scattering ash on fallen heroes.

Is he the spirit of forgotten ancestors
which takes charge of a conquered land?
Is it in his mind to end up destruction
which dominated the last centuries?

He should be the comrade
of our blood enforced with
honor and strength of old days.

He wields his ceptre, ash eclipses sunset
and commands silence over this decease.
It makes me shudder in consideration
of this deed of the source of all fullfillment.

I retreat and bow down in reverence
for the new sovereign.

2. Decretum Executionis

When the fog of ash splits open,
a cold glancing moon glazes the land.
And his pale light gazes after
nocturnal storms which clear the sky.

And within remains descent
which are consigned to oblivion,
a long shadow accedes the throne,
exalted by the howling horde.

Craving blazing torches are yearning for his silhouette
during he turns around to expound the grave decrees.

Emptiness vanishes from his sight.
Instead of this a malevolent sparkling engulfs his gaze.

Our enemy has inflicted great losses
in the devastating slaughter of last night.
We cannot accept this disgraceful defeat
and would strike back entirely even before sundawn.

Convoke all warriors and let them swear
the oath of allegiance and require their brave.

Traitors of our banner
should be executed.
That's for disobeying
the supreme court of justice.
Seething with rage the horde swarms out
to efface the dynasty of this offenders.

3. Servitus In Aeternitatem

Rain pours down on everglades
to engulf the rememberance
of a past era like a
shroud embeds the stagnation.

From severe wounds blood gushes
forth to get white-washed
in the rising seas of
untarnished requital.
To relinquish intentions of the renegades
is its uppermost command to be enforced.

Elegies are droning through deepest dungeons
to die away unheard on decayed walls

which are stained by rotten entrails,
taunting the creatures in their despair.

Wolves and rats are gutting
their effete corpses.
Worms are devouring
flesh and desiccated skin.

Those who will survive the bestial torture
are doomed to serve in everlasting slavery
to obey the dominance of the divine right of kings.

Doomed to slavery!
Serve in slavery!
Obey me!

4. Inciting The Rebellion

I am gasping and panting in dank clouds of smoke.
My neck is enclosed by a collar of steel
as my feet and hands chained up to the
ruins of this doleful sepulchre.

Numb with grief a final yell suffocates in a seared throat
and flagging limbs are hanging maltreated in chains.
A dozing redeeming salaciousness pounces on me
and tempts me not to endure this slavery for longer.

My blinded eyes will behold the sun nevermore.
My once incisive scent wouldn't feast on winter air.
My pale tattered lips would remain silence,
when the blather is spoken by fatuous ones.

In my mind, through my head, thoughts are hunting me.
In my soul, in my heart, embers engenders a
longed for, ever suspected awakening will to fight.

On a stone in the wall, there are engraved
dozens of hateful words – spurred by odium –
etching an evident determination
in my strait, resurrecting, gleaming pupils.

Tearing on the chains of my confinement
I declare – inflated with self-confidence –

to incite all prisoners to a rebellion
to disentangle them from this doom.
Now it should be done.
All pain should elapse.

5. On The Inflammatory March

Those who succeeded in abscondence, regather now in secret vaults.
To conjure this new revolt, they defile the holy shrine.
Burning down the elder treasures would help them to forget.
Only in their nightmares, they will be reminded

of their atrocious past
in sovereign contempt.

Perhaps this was all on purpose
to form the best combatants –
the unconquerable army.

Rearmed and steeled they march up to the once lost soil
to fetch back what should belong to them.
All over the years they had this dream
to re-enter their promised land

which was trespassed and occupied.

Finally they are guided and hailed as heroes –
on the inflammatory march.

6. Thorns

Emblazoned by thorns I scorn in the sun,
impaled by a miscreant folk
on the pillory of derisiveness.

Their derision clangs in my ears
like the bell

which tolls for my execution.
Their incomparable hypocrisy
whips my senses,
when they acclaim me
like a martyr.

The insight overtakes me
that I waste away and suffer
for a pride they
do not deserve.

My blood and sweat shall meld into
a wrenching stream to drown them
and to demonstrate them my everlasting dignity
which is even now able to let them perish at any time.

7. Sator Discordiae

As twilight befalls
this never ending day,
it tints the horizon into
an adumbrating red.

It seems to reflect my severe wounds
but I respire within a cold breeze.
I invoke the icy winds to sweep upon
my desecrated countenance.

They shall be the remedy
from northern domains
to re-engender the estimation
which I once held.
Their irascibleness
should spill forth
the envy in my veins
and their unsulled
hands should disperse
the germ of the ergot
into the furrowed soil.

There should be
bred the discord
which would be
spread like a wildfire.

8. Withering Vengeance

Swords are glistening in the winter sun
which were forged on the anvil of spite.

Turbid reflections are craving for vengeance.
An idyllic shroud of snow is trampled
down by scorching hooves.

Behind visors there are glowing resolved eyes.
Screams are hurtling through the fields,
on which they are embattling for the slaughter.
The horde is poised for the final assault.

Horns are announcing the declaration
of a war which should last until all is erased.
Banners of the only true dark force should waft
on the lances on which the impaled fallen surrender.

Fight for your kingdom.
Fight for your dominion.
Subdue those undeserving ones
to relieve from the chains of slavery.

9. A Blaze At Dawn

Swords are glistening in the winter sun
which were forged on the anvil of spite.