glory! : REST IN PEACE, PELLE OHLIN

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Friday, March 8, 2024

REST IN PEACE, PELLE OHLIN

A dream of another existence

you wish to diea dream of another worldyou pray for death to release the soul.One must die to find peace inside, you must get eternalI am a mortal but am I human ?How beautiful life is now when my time has comeA human destiny but nothing human insideWhat will be left of me when I'm dead, there wasnothing when I lived

"What you found was eternal deathno one will ever miss you"

https://pelleohlinmorbidmayhem.blogspot.com/p/pelle-ohlin.html?sc=1709958294999#c6000538350098004394

interesting blog on Pelle "Dead" Ohlin, from Mayhem. rest in peace, angel.

i have a piece of him in my heart or soul. i understand his remorse, his pain.

i wish we could talk, i wish to talk to him. maybe someday, soon. i think- i have decided. i will die soon. bathory/marian stamp tattoo HURT! HURTING STILL! but very worth it.

i want to get some of Pelles drawing inked into me one day, or a lyric. something less sad. im not into reeincarnation. that would suck. when i die, i do not want to be back. i do devoutly think that if it is real im either him or quorthon. maybe both. i want to be quorthon. he seems like me but i do suffer badly. i have been having stomach issues all day and i went and got a bottle of tamarind flavored vodka. had a glass of wine and now im drunk off the vodka. i am not having the best time. i hope i can make good music. im very drunk right now. i think i could make a very good traditional black metal album, i think i can try to make a new sound, make it be raw and rotted, death from the cold in my room. i hope i can live up to my ancestors. mainly, i think of quorthon, pelle, i think of a blaze in the north in the northern sky.

my city is never cold, it is gray ash sky and religiously hot. i have experienced the cold however, in starvation. a cold that radiates from my soul and bones into my muscles and flesh. a paleness one can only get by wreckage and decomposition, necrosis. i am now diving right back, starving, bleak. the pain, the meaningless nature of my existence, the apathy of God Yavé.

i hope i can achieve the beauty of their creations, i wish to be possessed by the spirit of black metal, for it to use my throat into screech and my body into shake. i wish to be possessed by medievality, a heavy sword of steel both wielded and housed in my ribs.

i will be done for by it, not before i can channel it.

rumination will be out after my EPs, which will be tributes by nature, everything i do is tribute. nothing that i do happens in vain.

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sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.