The May/June issue of Cryptic Inscriptions has been posted it contains the following:
Reviews all by Joe:
Cystgurgle "Regurgitant Slurp of Mashed Embryo" EP, Encounters "Houses" EP, Khanate "Clean Hands Go Foul" LP and Painkiller "Guts of a Virgin" EP
Poems by Joe:
Sensations Uncontained and Mindless Melodrama
Poems by Masami:
Den of the Djinn, Intuitive Improvisation and Fevers
Until the July/Aug issue enjoy.....
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Fevers! You are a paralysis! Lying on a languid mattress, strayed as idle hours at an opium den..... & the fates eye has withdrawn in a prosaic fashion. For in her womb there was a fear of birth, but that taunting ghost of arousal lingers... Like the baritone croak of a toad belching bubbles of black liquor & these nostrils drip... For theirs lies some aches a round of poison can't pause. So strap on a gas mask to purge a clear channel of breath. Longing for the nostalgia of that light spring air sequestered in a monastery by the closed shutters of winters brittle bones, & only a sober gentleman could deduce such a string of cowards, crooks, & tragedies, but that wouldn't happen to be this funny fellow. For notes of madness melt this mirage of modesty! For the touch of sensation is a pendulum swaying from the cool brush of elation to a caress coarse with thorns, & quietly I whisper to these numbed naked nerves... Where am I?! Sweat... Shivering fevers, this news trembles in my shaken gut... Sick?!
To type a sobering recollection of these prior nights subtle agents of memory would be a puzzling blackout of confusions. Filled with forgotten conversations taped on stat icy recorders, & Amass with empty bottles of liquor lifted through broken pockets, & A litter of strange letters that have little meaning to none but those enamored by these secret affairs of violence..... Raiding the medicine cabinets of those questionable merchants & guzzling gourds of gremlin wine! Oh how we'd ride off on vacant drives.Deranged by the grizzly tail of this tapering night. For these obsessions were a marriage of monstrosities! Aged as the folklore of a dream catcher caught in the shadow of a reoccurring flood of nightmares.As pools of virgin blood shiver in opal shades, & amidst these sullen tombs of junk naive travelers tread. For they were none but small time tourists dangling for a holiday in that full time trade. Pale in the line of a blue shot,& He was a veteran of that hustle you never turn back from. Sizzling in the spoon of a junkies superstitions. So as he handed me a crinkled hundred dollar bill he began to mutter like some ancient sage beholding opioid oracles, “Never blow a line with a singledollar bill” he ominously foreshadowed, “Or all that lies in toe is the bottom of a bottle of blues”...... Idle occupations!? We're the philosophers purging pantheons of paradigms on the disembodied couches of psychologists, & I raise my glass like the echo of a fallen hero heard throughout the mighty halls of Valhalla! What arrows of discord slay these sensibilities like the profane promises of wicked women. Rock bottom is that cheap solace of a bathroom floor floating with empty beer cans... That stolen stone! & She pounces like Lucifer's left hand cat. Purring ecstatically as she lies atop ole ruins rock.Her bright rosy cheeks ripe with the sun, Soft pink lips... A plucked rose bud. Young but witty to the ways of the world, smoking the earth in gardens of sunrise. Foraging for a pinch of coffee grinds to fill this spoon, a handful of half bit benzos to put back, & the loose lyrics of a horoscope to inspire... Revolt!..It's a flat of frivolities! Reeling shadowy films through a pocketed projector, but on that aged window sill I still can imagine that golden spider weaving silvery webs through the pale horns of the moon. Although the bite of intrigue betrays these senses that wander. For devotion is a childish dower of broken I dos, Pallid as that tragic figure once engraved in imaginings of alabaster..... Lament! Oh, how you stalk those languid hours in which candles dream. Stroking these familiar hands through a strangers hair, unconscious as the beckoning bark of this Pavlovian bell... & these chemical coats were reptilian... Lying dormant in the dusk of an eclipsing nature. As circles of judges stretch out in an embrace in these chaste gowns of purple, As father had always been an empty chair at the dining room table, but perhaps only the finger of lady justice could tip these damned scales! For not a gypsy could sow the hem of an unclaimed fortune... Blind spotted as to if these forked paths could lead to a ripening cocoon of hope or dangle in the noose of a tightening rope?! Oh house of pain... This asylum of memories is a ward reserved for the insane! But wise words insist it's merely a charade... a game, & Intangible are the vibrations in whence you empathize like the mirage of lineages woven by the nostalgia of widowed lips, but where lies the history amongst these mock streets... Those ghetto slums?! For this nation is but an infant swaddled in the arms of a premature passing of centuries, but aloof on a lone window pane I wildly muse of the romantic architecture adorning the majestic cities of cultures fallen... & that babe has been cast into a sea of doubts! Stripped bare as the jaded mystique of a promiscuous dancer, curious as to where they roam when the bars are no longer a light with the faint sound of trailing music & the cheerful laughter of boisterous crowds?! For when these cremations char this humorous husk, in the pit of a pagan pyre a cloudless portrait of azure shall glare by the light of a luminous pupil.....Pale in the hue of this dim constellation..
Den of the Djinn
Unborn voyeur! You are a chariot driven by a luminous inferno of galloping mares!
Dancing like the crackling flames of a bonfire blaring with new beginnings..... & This
waltz of empathy dances in delusions, Courting an affair strung out on a short leash, As she proposes idly to these pornographic toasts, But what hideous figures harrow in these kingdoms oh imaginary acrobat?! As midnights of morphine mellow into murderous morns! So square me off to shake this itch! & Tired of the taverns... I recede, Slumping into fictitious fantasies, As they lie leisurely in these glass coffins... Pandering! Sinking slowly within the cushioning poppy fields of the Sultan..... & What would this echoing evermore say of our yesterdays, As they casually saunter past park benches in a dream. Oh, lyrical liar how your words smolder in this ancient pyre! Scribbled in similes & resonating with rhymes, As tarantulas trickle through tense fingers fidgeting across the dusty keys of this typewriter, & In a chair to my left on a green porch perches the curious calico cat, Who'd lost a life outta nine, Falling a flight from a shrieking balcony!& Decaying in this arabesque den was the troop of three chalices, Who cooked it up in the afternoons as the evenings dreams were a black diamond... A fleeting star, Ever so far! Focused on the clockwork of fossils, Smoke stained as the diaries scorched at the foot of this solar mausoleum, & She'll wine & dine on the blood of her young! As these inquires incubate, Hanging from the hinges of this cellar door, That sanctum obscured....So what shadows linger in the hallways of tomorrow? As premonitions pulse through a deck of possibilities, & Slick as the trick of a djinn, Was that grin...Oh that gritty toothed grin even gamblers can't pin! & The denizens of this spectral acropolis dwell in the drift like childhood memories spent in palaces afar, As starless summers starve! & It's where I wander that worlds seem to cross, That desert plane cascading with distant muses & beautiful mirages, But where lies the oasis amidst this foreign land?! Oh poet of silence! You druid of dreams! You sultan of sciences! How we beckon at nameless gates for your unconscious return, Amidst the kinship of a dear company of strangers.That heir to a lineage haunted by an ancestral hunger, Fated to none but a fleeting expression of mortality, Who's imminent sentences were a vast library to centuries lost...That subterranean chamber that loathes the light of memory, Whom in the phosphorescent hue of daybreak fairies me into a flight of fables, As I scour about in a delirious thirst for this subhuman serum, Stepped on by the string orchestrated serenades of pence pinching brokers, & Pausing tensely on this fidgeting fret, I rest till the next note is struck..... Erasing euphoric sketches through quiet nods, For this season had undressed all but that naked sense of closure, Oh, how I'd of torched those gardens of “paradise” just to bring these kindred spirits back! But the lore of this city is ancient...Lying amongst the decay of ruins seldom sought, Unearthed through the eyes of an ageless tomb, Oh Caravans! Caravans! Lead these childish whims to your strange lands. Bustling with the inspirations that swell in the solace of scenes mused upon in summers past, As not even a quiver of ink could be penned in the pale aura of the present, For I seem to know not who wrote the lines scrawled about the pages of those diaries dated.So from these silver ships we'd found harbor upon your damp shores, That wilderness within the nature of a noose, Gilded by the vines of wrath! You who's whispers murmur to the beasts of unconscious forests! Lurking in the tridents of poetic rapture! Who's writhing seances of words were strewn about mystic galleries... Asunder! For in the creeping hours of the morn I see not but the daunting eclipse of requiems dear.....
Eyes locked on a fantasy realm that renders us useless. A star born through staged reality. Corroded by the disease of fame and wanting the next thing which leaves us enslaved to the product line. Spawning our own disease and losing touch within, what hope to we have if we can’t get past a façade that fills the lonely void within.
Burning and uncontrolled desires taking over the mind and body like a disease waiting to transpire. Sensations running deep the essence of fleshly pleasure decimating minds like a cancer spreading disease through the eye candy that man desires. No hope for the damned the situation is clear yet the will is broken by the beast driven by carnal desire.
PainKiller “Guts of a Virgin” EP
I recently checked out this bizarre concoction of avant garde jazz and grind core known as Painkiller after discovering that this was the brainchild and project of saxophonist John Zorn(Naked City), drummer Mick Harris(ex Napalm Death/Scorn), and Bill Laswell(Massacre). In a nutshell, the album is basically a jazz session with hints of old school grind making its presence known on several of the albums tracks The material is basically improvisation based not to say that some of the material wasn't premeditated.. The vocals are very chaotic and spastic sounding which definitely mixes well with the chaotic musical structures. The drum break in the beginning of “Damage to the Mask” and the saxophone solo on “Dr.Phibes” are definitely stand out moments for me on this record, and to understand this band fully I would just check out the entire album. If anyone has doubts about grind core and jazz being good bedfellows, this record will definitely change your mind.
Khanate “When Clean Hands Go Foul” LP
I’ve been definitely treading into more experimental and doom based music as of late, and I would have to say that Khanate’s “Clean Hands Go Foul” is definitely one of the more dark and abstract albums I’ve checked out recently. The album is almost very free jazz based especially on the drums- courtesy of Tim Wyskida (Jodis).The guitars and bass on this record are more or less used to create abstract sounds than actual riffs with Stephen O Malley(Sunn O)) ) creating delayed notes that ring out for ages mixed with James Plotkins'(Jodis) very heavily distorted bass lines and sporadic synth lines. Together, along with the tortured crones of vocalist Alan Dubin(ex O.L.D. and GNAW) you can sense his emotions of discontent and anger for normal society. For me, the album is very Abruptum-esque minus the black metal elements. It’s very sporadic and improvised, but seems to mesh perfectly together. This to me is some of the darkest stuff I’ve heard, and even though it’s not as heavy as their previous work, it has definitely worked out for them when all was said and done.
Encounters “Houses” EP
Jacksonville’s Encounters, which is the project started last year by Ryan Reno(NRIII) and Todd Watson(Husere Grav), brings an elegant mix of dark, atmospheric ambient and drone to the table with their debut EP “Houses”. I ended up checking them out recently and was very impressed. The live set was a lot noisier than the recording, and even though I enjoyed them live, I really wish the live dark space atmosphere would have come out better in the live scenario. The atmospheres are very space sounding and dark locking you in a meditative state of mind. The feeling can be described as being encased in a dark room, or traveling into the unknown abyss of space. One could also describe it to the close audio configuration to near death experience. I can definitely see this material being presented on a soundtrack for a silent film. Even though each track differs from the next, they all seem to coincide very well together, making for one composition with sections similar to an orchestral piece. I definitely can’t wait to see what these guys have in store for us in the future…
Cystgurgle “Regurgitant Slurp of Mashed Embryo” EP
The goregrind drum and bass duo of Goredick (Small Pox Aroma/ExPxWx) and Niose (Masochist) bring an utterly disgusting, vomit-soaked laden batch of groovy and fast goregrind to the table with their EP “Regurgitant Slurp of Mashed Embryo” EP. The album is the typical gore grind, offering gory photos, song titles, and disgusting vocals with the music to match. Even though I’m a fan of Small Pox and ExPxWx, I like the fact that this band seems to be a bit more controlled and not so sporadic at times separating it from the other projects they are involved in. The grooves are very punchy and punk- esque, and the blasts are still menacing and aggressive in the same breath. The vocals seemed to be a bit high in the mix, burying the music at times, but overall, I have to say I enjoyed this recording very much. Some of my favorite tracks included “Scattered Cadaveric Mess”, “Anally Devouring Prolapsed Intestines”, and “Fist Fucking Dead Tracheal Tissues”. Certain highlights I personally enjoyed were the vocal hangout on “Tongue Slipping on Larvae Ridden Peritoneum” and Pulmonary Fibrosis’s “Facial Mastication Cadaveric Sub Tumours” to end off the album. This, to me, definitely added to the entirety of the album. I recommend this to fans of Last Days of Humanity, Cock and Ball Torture, Die Pigeon Die, and Methadone Abortion Clinic