Poéte Maudit

by Iarnvidjur

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“A concept album based on Baudelaire’s, Victor Hugo’s, and Byron’s writings. Very much inspired by the Romanticism era in general. The music and themes delve into opium laced boudoirs where next to prism glasses dusty grimoires are lit with the flame of candles and painted in the emerald green of Absinthe. This album is dark, chaotic and opulent with dark yearnings and despairs of Love, Hate, Obsession, Torture and the things that slither near the pentagram near witching hour. Downloads come with the piece of poetry that includes the entire concept. “


released April 18, 2016

Cassettes here: depressiveillusions.com

Artwork-Thomas Cole-Expulsion From the Gate of Eden



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Iarnvidjur Michigan

The throne is usurped by those in crimson masquerade
Drinking aether ignites the ichor coursing through virulent veins

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Track Name: Confession
Thus far have I proceeded in a theme
Renewed with no kind auspices:—to feel
We are not what we have been, and to deem
We are not what we should be, and to steel
The heart against itself; and to conceal,
With a proud caution, love or hate, or aught,—
Passion or feeling, purpose, grief, or zeal,—
Which is the tyrant spirit of our thought,
Is a stern task of soul:—No matter,—it is taught.

And for these words, thus woven into song,
It may be that they are a harmless wile,—
The colouring of the scenes which fleet along,
Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile
My breast, or that of others, for a while.
Fame is the thirst of youth,—but I am not
So young

I have not loved the world, nor the world me;
I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed
To its idolatries a patient knee,—
Nor coined my cheek to smiles, nor cried aloud
In worship of an echo; in the crowd
They could not deem me one of such; I stood
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could,
Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.

Track Name: L'Amour et le Crâne
L'Amour et le Crâne

Vieux cul-de-lampe

L'Amour est assis sur le crâne
De l'Humanité,
Et sur ce trône le profane,
Au rire effronté,

Souffle gaiement des bulles rondes
Qui montent dans l'air,
Comme pour rejoindre les mondes
Au fond de l'éther.

Le globe lumineux et frêle
Prend un grand essor,
Crève et crache son âme grêle
Comme un songe d'or.

J'entends le crâne à chaque bulle
Prier et gémir:
— «Ce jeu féroce et ridicule,
Quand doit-il finir?

Car ce que ta bouche cruelle
Eparpille en l'air,
Monstre assassin, c'est ma cervelle,
Mon sang et ma chair!»

— Charles Baudelaire
Track Name: In Darkness I Wrote my Beloved Sonnets of Wrath
I worship you, adored one
You slake my thirst, my desire
You cast a curse on me

Ornament of my nights
That swims through my heart

I'am the wound, I'am the knife
I murder that, which I love
I'am the Judas, who plays both parts
God's forsaken, In my pain
He admires my despair

Mors Est Ad Nos
Track Name: Dirge

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
Track Name: Between I and the Pyre
Oh those days my dear
Where to admire from afar in fear
I've lost all ability to control
This fire within that grows

And for you the end draws deadly near
If you only knew the depth of soul
I only torture myself not you
This my penance my cross to bare

A vestal statue above opal waters
Adorned by Astarte herself
I grow jealous of the way her light embraces you in the night
She may be brighter, she may be Divine but I am enamored

I shall find my tongue askew if I never wondered what could be
How a rope would tighten around your last cadence of breath
Free from your curse, I walk in fire
I turned from scripture and the throne
The dawn will rise on your forgotten stone

Let it be known that it's not my fault if God made Man and the Devil equal

I have given you myself even if a liar
Your choice is now
Choose me or the pyre
Track Name: Les Litanies De Satan
Les Litanies de Satan

Ô toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges,
Dieu trahi par le sort et privé de louanges,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Ô Prince de l'exil, à qui l'on a fait tort
Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines,
Guérisseur familier des angoisses humaines,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui, même aux lépreux, aux parias maudits,
Enseignes par l'amour le goût du Paradis,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Ô toi qui de la Mort, ta vieille et forte amante,
Engendras l'Espérance, — une folle charmante!
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui fais au proscrit ce regard calme et haut
Qui damne tout un peuple autour d'un échafaud.
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui sais en quels coins des terres envieuses
Le Dieu jaloux cacha les pierres précieuses,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi dont l'oeil clair connaît les profonds arsenaux
Où dort enseveli le peuple des métaux,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi dont la large main cache les précipices
Au somnambule errant au bord des édifices,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui, magiquement, assouplis les vieux os
De l'ivrogne attardé foulé par les chevaux,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui, pour consoler l'homme frêle qui souffre,
Nous appris à mêler le salpêtre et le soufre,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui poses ta marque, ô complice subtil,
Sur le front du Crésus impitoyable et vil,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Toi qui mets dans les yeux et dans le coeur des filles
Le culte de la plaie et l'amour des guenilles,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Bâton des exilés, lampe des inventeurs,
Confesseur des pendus et des conspirateurs,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Père adoptif de ceux qu'en sa noire colère
Du paradis terrestre a chassés Dieu le Père,
Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!

Gloire et louange à toi, Satan, dans les hauteurs
Du Ciel, où tu régnas, et dans les profondeurs
De l'Enfer, où, vaincu, tu rêves en silence!
Fais que mon âme un jour, sous l'Arbre de Science,
Près de toi se repose, à l'heure où sur ton front
Comme un Temple nouveau ses rameaux s'épandront!
— Charles Baudelaire
Track Name: Et Amore est Calvariae Locus
To the skull I send my love
My wrath

To revenge I send my kiss
My poison

To the beast I give my heart
My darkness

To my God I dethrone
We renounce

I am he who quills Marquis
Flesh and bone

I am the one who murders
In the shadows

I did it once before
And I'll do it again

I am a king

I fear no hell fires

I am the floral nightfall
The venom

I slake my thirst
With her eyes

I sent those to the gallows
At dawn she will burn

I shall bare the cross of dismay
Her ghost

Love and loves embrace
Eludes me

You've destroyed me completely
With your soul

Those that love the profane
Shall be saved

I give you my vow

Spitting fire at scripture
World of lies

Servant of the light gone
I am damned

I've been banished from Eden
By the temptress

I lived to see the church crumble
And I with it

I am a double edged sword
Protector and wound

I drank his blood
And ate his flesh

The secret splendor and fatal beauty
Nature endowed it

Your inert and complacent flesh
Released his infernal desires

"Daughter of darkness slattern deity
Rank with musk and nicotine the spawn
Of filthy covens or a shamans rites "- Baudelaire

These streets in dust
Last remembrance

The sunlight scorches
This vampiric heart

She Les Fleur Du Mal
The enchantress

If together in Hell
My paradise

Your dust upon my hands
Stained forever

If only to rid you
Scarred memory

A pallid existence
Without her

In Nomine Patri
Et Filli Spiritu Sancte

It is you I see
In every dream

The bells toll on Pentecost
My skin is burning

The whores line the burial
Sonorous chorus

The stars align in grief
A funeral dirge

I fear not the noose

How can the Angels sleep
When the Devils awake

Chants the morning prayer
As the knife plunges

The censer sways
Frankincense and myrrh

I turned away
From the book

Dance for me in the clouds
Heaven asunder

Cacophony of your song
Hosannas aloud

They hunt me in spite
Hatred and fear

I've only done it in love
Devotional lust

We are all puppets
In a masquerade

You set me aflame
Since the first day

I denied everything
In great faith

Now together forever
No one else will have you