Year: 2005

Desolate Path to Apocalyptic Ruin

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Desolate Path to Apocalyptic Ruin
by Goatwhore

The seething light inhales
Breath of mourned delight
Awaiting… The storm
Blood, fire, chaos, and war
From the black abyss
Damnation… Of the pure
Fires consume eternity

The quest for higher pain
Endless trail to an extinct plain
Obsessed with the murdering hand
This numbness covers my mind
Blind… Slowly
Breaks my laws
Almighty… Gods of war
Besiege the holy throne
Light… Betrays me

This is my alone
Drifting on the winds
Beneath midnight skies
Coldness covers my latent eyes
Snake skin forms to ignite sin
Smearing the hatred of disgust
Upon the faces of the meek

Their lips burn with the taste of plagued virtues
The hands of destiny are non-immortal
Deaths foretold of past
Condemned to repeat this disease
Loss of divinity
Divine loss of sight
Black as the cold silence

I’ve felt the wars of the empires
Breaking this seal inside for the son of all wars
For the reign of a forgotten faith
Conversion of the flame to fall to sea
Filling the oceans with all, now i will become the seas

I contest this prayer to my hatred
All man’s lies fall into sea to exist
Reburn this seal for a closing of might
The divine bound to writhe into eternity
This is my blame for the loss of the sky
To declare war over these lips of spite

Elmer Rove

Crockett is going down

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The thing that’s most entertaining about Jim Hahn’s latest campaign email is its stink of failure. It reeks like a gangrenous wound. Catching a whiff of it, one wants to suggest that maybe he shouldn’t be going outside right now, waving that thing in people’s faces…

The second most entertaining thing is the image that Hahn is trying to paint of Villaraigosa with the email title “Miami Vice in L.A.?” The image of a swarthy man in a shiny suit jetting down to the Florida Keys to pick up a very special suitcase…

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Little Murders

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One of the renowned freeway shootings just occured at the 5 and 14 interchange. Windows blown out, no injuries. The interchange is about two miles from me, and I drive through it twice a day.

NPR now does a story on the springtime freeway shootings — “a flurry.” They try to work the gang angle. From their DC headquarters, they broadcast LA television news clips at me, which is something I’ve avoided so well up to now.

“Their [police] best weapon might be commuters and their cell phones — two things Los Angeles has plenty of.”
Ooh, zinger!

NPR reporter: Luke Burbank

Little Murders, 1971. Eliot Gould

Update:
furthering the mood of an apocalypse occuring in my peripheral vision — as I was driving home on the freeway, I saw a streetlight flashing madly between it’s colors like a video game monster. I could only see it in the mirror between trees, so maybe it was nothing. Nothing at all.