All lyrics (poetries) written by James Jason

Gothic are:
James Jason - vocals, keyboards, synthesizers and poetries
Davy Jones - lead and rhythm guitars
John Ruin - sound engineering
David Bosch - artwork

In Wickedness
In my sick realm of wickedness there’s only an one-way choice: to be grim.
And I feel so grim... grim!

R U gothic?

Forlorn
In the claustral depth of my well of isolation – Prometheus fades out
Syrens of bleakness stir up to a no-reaction – almighty is a dull slime
Enduring the Holy resignation’s division – behind inner miracles
Multiplication of the darkened corners – Embalming of the two weeping lovers

Grazed knees on a woebegone breast
Streaming through the preferential aisle of the scars
Anamnestic sighs against a parched hand
Sliding on the wax-reef of apathy, far

Let this thick sorrow lade my glances
Make this ethereal drowsiness steal into my yearnings
So that I might lump the dead foetus of my illusions
So that I could kiss the morbid bride of my pain

Startled on the skew – I flee from the forgotten dawn
Silenced is my distortion – on the endless path to the vanishing
Only whistling eretic memories – I can hide from the shadow of the wind

Closed in an eternal eclipse of mind

Scattered and wandering in Ephel Duath’s forest – Mercury’s seclusion
Hapless and ruthless is the marbled torpor around my black lodge of loneliness

Forlorn I am
Forlorn you too
Forlorn we were
Forlorn they’ll be soon

Forlorn I am (Dumb)
Forlorn you too (Deaf)
Forlorn we were (Blind)
Forlorn they’ll be soon

Stand aloof
Wrapped by loops
Stand aloof
Drowned in... doom

I Give Up (Defeat’s Dance)
Urban worms – can be trampled – to death with no remorse
New-born marshlands – among skyscrapers – where has old pride gone?
It’s gone... Modern spittoon – sparkling careers – puddle is defeat’s mirror
Lousy dwarf – contemptous giants – no dreams to live for

Self-cancellation dreams – huge industrial wastes
Impassive is the face – butcheries of objectives

Expressionless supporting actor – monotonous pawn, cowardliness
(Expressionless – fright – monotonous – why “life”?)
Unable to outdo my own shadow – or to leave the tomorrow, directionless
(Unable – gifted one – excuses – to dive into compassion’s chasm)

Riots in unawareness – silent in the way down
Aware only of painfulness – cut off is the sprout
The night is a light glory – equal when all is vague
Sunshine unearths fury – product of the envy’s plague

Always second in competition – intelligence doesn’t shape the bests
Too little ready to submission – procreation of worthy outcasts

Hiding from my own sight
Praises in a remote past
Winner in losing ground
Rover in promises’ mist

Lower spheres, deaf hideout
Comparisons, spring of dread
Climbing for sliding down
Only a thick silence is left

Wintered Wings
Splinters of… reality… stuck bleeding in… oneiric flesh
Hidden from... cynicism... entangled in... wilderness

Pale white... [eternally] waiting to... take off from... this dumpish mud
Pointers are still... since I was blind... ineluctability... towers in the Abyss,
freezing to resist

Splinters of… reality… stuck bleeding in… oneiric flesh
Hidden from... cynicism... entangled in... wilderness

Deep furrow... weakening... a crystal carrion... as mind’s cloak
Once reassuring... leafy branches... now cobwebs... to an uncoloured sky,
here down I lie

Lowered spectator of missed flights
Stammering in this snug abattoir of souls
Only when my scraggy arms will be closed tight
This merciful frost will bless my incurable sore

«Le poete est semblable au prince des nuées
Qui hante la tempete et se rit de l’archer
Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées
Ses ailes de géant l’empechent de marcher»

[“Albatros”, Les fleurs du Mal, Charles Baudelaire]

Splinters Inside
Theatre of Death – childhood’s wheeze – outlines of Past – only Time doesn’t bleed
Movements lost in innocence – when plaster cast and static souls match

Get me off!
A terminus hasn’t been foreseen...
Let me rest!
From your forgotten sighs I breed...
I won’t fall down!
You’re already a slave of yourself...
When I’ll fade out?
Oblivion’s a reward, not a punishment...

Mannequins to soothe old scars – scenes of absurd cleared in dreary mind’s jar Silence-word, dubbing of fears
Materiality reduced at the rear

The Ego... at the rear
Alive or not? But Life is/was real?

Ineluctability in precariousness
Analogical overlapping
Past-Present, more and more faint boundaries
Cerebral over-crowding

Shattered mirrors, rippled iced lake, timeless editing
The host has become the guest
Paradise of fancies, Hell of realities, human gear’s passenger
This moving train will not rest

Down In Your Shrine
Reflected in that looking-glass – a blur within a blur
A hearse to celebrate a survival – waiting for Cybel to beckon
Bedevilment in a downstairs of yours – and the staircase won’t go up
Lame is your ratiocination – the gate was always barred

Leaded eyelids (Leaded eyelids)
To swallow not the life (To swallow not the life)
Mowing past dreams (Mowing past dreams)
To gaze at your decline (To gaze at your decline)
Self disavowal (Hapless promise)
Compliant with denials (Bow down to admire)
Shining of faded sights (your demons are the keepers)
Cadavers of light (You’re not so divine...)

Galleries of dead devotions – compression to nothing
Subsoil submarines for mercy’s mission – when pain turns to ashes

Mind’s chasm is your way of flight
Wrecker’s rest is the mirage of a dark lie
Ballasts fall into Lilith’s hands
By you, mislaid son, the only real wreath of yourself

Down...
Down...
Down...
Down...
In your shrine

Noir (CZARNY)
Néant – Eloignement – Dévoilement – Torpeur – Effroi – Néant
Néant
"Finalement... je t’attendais! Tu ne sais pas combien de fois je t’ai rêvé et..."
"Shh... je sais déjà tous, je sais déjà tous, mais maintenant calme-toi, mon mécène: je sui venue pour finir de peindre ton tableau..."
"Cette fois-ci je serai ta muse, n’est-ce pas vrai? Mais je ne voudrais pas poser trop longtemps... ce froid-ci... j’ai de la peine à souffler, tu sais..."
"Tu verrais, je ne mettrai que quelques minutes... au moins le temps afin que le noir soit complètement absorbé par ta chair pale..."
"Quelles couleurs tu utiliserais pour moi?"
"Mais lesquelles de l’éternité, mon chère..."

Eloignement
"Mes paupières vont se fermer..."
"Ma berceuse a endormie aussi les ames les plus récalcitrantes au repos!"
"Mes même membres me paraient de plus en plus loines, presque étrangères..."
"Les armures sont des lests encombrants pour ceux qui désirent planer dans le Néant..."
"Mais je souffre de vertiges, j’ai peur du vide!"
"Tu ne peux pas avoir peur du vide parce que désormais tu en fais déjà partie..."

Dévoilement
"Je n’imaginais pas que tu fusses si jolie, si séduisante..."
"Il y a beaucoup de lunes, tu me considérais laide, ensuite les souffrances et les douleurs t’ont redonnées la vue..."
"Déshabille-toi pour moi, je veux lire dans toi le sens de l’existence!"
"Oui, mais lis vite le livre: quand le portail se fermera, tu n’aurais plus de lumière pour le faire..."
"Je ne sais pas si j’éprouve de la déception ou de la stupéfaction, de la rage ou de l’incrédulité, du dégoût ou du sarcasme..."
"Au-delà des Colonnes d’Hercule, l’infinité donne la dimension de la duperie... les limites entre la transcendance et l’immanence sont de plus en plus labiles, jusqu’ à s’embrouiller..."

Torpeur
"Mon passé n’a jamais été aussi présent que maintenant... mon enfance... je me rappelle même de ma naissance!"
"Il n’y a plus de raison de répartir l’existence en séquences temporelles étant donné que maintenant l’immobilité est la clef pour réunir les morceaux de mémoire que tu as semés le long du fleuve..."
"Comme c’est enivrant ! Pourtant nous sommes immobiles..."
"Le carillon que tu entends c’est la voix de la sirène qui ensorcela Ulysse... tellement doux que tu n’y peux pas résister..."
"Mes affections perdues ! Mes joies simples... les embrassements innocents qui me manquaient beaucoup... je ne sais pas comment te remercier!"
"L’obole, tu me l’as déjà donnée... et, en outre, c’est un plaisir pour moi de te soustraire à la quotidienneté de l’émotivité...

Effroi
"Une chaleur croissante envahit ma poitrine..."
"Mes froides caresses te donneront du soulagement, ne crains rien!"
"Celles que je serrais dans mes bras ils étaient seulement ombres! Tu m’as menti!"
"Mais le livre que tu as lu, il ne t’a pas enseigné que la matière est seulement une fate projection de l’ombre et donc absolument risible?... Pures décombres déjà à l’origine..."
"Non! Je ne te désire plus... va-t’en! L’insensibilité est un prix trop élevé pour remédier à l’angoisse ! Je serai le seule, le seule..."
"Je suis désolée, mais tu ne peux pas m’abandonner: tu aurais pu le faire dans le future passager mais maintenant le pendule s’est déjà arrêté..."

Néant
"Est-ce que tu pourrais jamais pardonner mon instabilité? Je ne comprends pas la raison de ma irascibilité... j’ai péché par orgueil dans ma bête tentative individualiste de rébellion..."
"Je suis l’Entité la plus miséricordieuse de la création et ma justice est vraiment égale pour tous: il suffit d’avoir de la patience et, surtout, du temps..."
"Juste à présent mes larmes et mes sourires me paraient si ridicules..."
"La marée haute est seulement une lueur brève et furtive dans l’immensité désorientée de la dimension obscure qui enveloppe cette marée basse-ci sur laquelle nous nous sommes ensablés languissamment..."
"Maintenant il me parait que tu aies étée la première, la dernière et la seule pour moi..."
"Je ne fus ni ne serai jamais: je suis toujours..."

Black (Czarny in Polish)
Nothing – Estrangement – Disclosure – Torpor – Fright – Nothing
Nothing
"At long last... I was waiting for you! You don’t know how many times I dreamed about you and..."
"Shh... I already know all that, I already know all that, but now calm yourself, oh my “Maecenas”: I’ve come to finish painting your picture..."
"This is the time I’m going to be your muse, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t like to pose for a long time to come... this cold... I’m breathing with difficulty, you know..."
"You’ll see, it will take only a few minutes... at least the time in order that the black is completely absorbed by your pale flesh..."
"Which colours are you going to use for me?"
"But those ones of the eternity, my darling..."

Estrangement
"My eyes (eyelids) are closing..."
"My lullaby put to sleep the souls of the greatest enemies of sleep"
"My own limbs seem to be more and more distant from me, almost foreign..."
"The armours are cumbersome ballasts for who wishes to soar in the Nothing..."
"But I suffer from giddiness, I fear the void!"
"You can’t fear the void because you’re part of it by now..."

Disclosure
"I didn’t think you’re so beautiful, so charming..."
"Many moons ago, I was considered ugly by you, afterwards, owing to your sufferings and pains, you have recovered your sight..."
"Strip for me, I want to read in you the meaning of the existence!"
"Yes, but read quickly the book: when the portal will be closed, you’ll have no time to do it..."
"I don’t know if I’m feeling deception or astonishment, rage or incredulity, disgust or sarcasm..."
"Beyond the pillars of Hercules, the infinite gives the dimension of the cheat... the boundaries between transcendence and immanence get more and more weak so that they become confused..."

Torpor
"My past has never been so present as it is just now... my infancy... I can recall my birth too!"
"There is no reason to split up the existence into temporal sequences, since the immobility is by now the key to put together again the fragments of memory you spread along the river..."
"How heady it is! Nevertheless we are remaining motionless..."
"The carillon you are hearing is the voice of the siren who bewitched Ulysses... so sweet that you can’t resist..."
"My lost affections! My simple joys... those innocent hugs I missed so much... I don’t know how I can thank you..."
"You already gave me your mite... and, moreover, I am delighted to deliver you from emotionality’s everyday life..."

Fright
"A growing heat is breaking into my chest..."
"My cold caresses will bring relief to you, don’t be afraid!"
"Those I was hugging they were only shadows! You lied to me!"
"But hasn’t the book you were reading teached showed that the matter is only a vain projection of the shade and therefore it’s absolutely insignificant?... Pure debris already since the beginning..."
"No! I don’t long for you anymore... go away! The insensibility is a too high cost in order to avoid the anguish! I will be the only one, the only one..."
"I’m sorry, but you can’t desert me: you could do it in the transient future but the pendulum(-clock) has stopped by now..."

Nothing
"Could you forgive my fickleness of mood? I don’t understand the reason of my irascibility... I was too much proud in my fool individualistic attempt at rebellion..."
"I am the most merciful being of creation and my justice is really the same for all: it is sufficient to have a little of patience and, above all, a bit of time..."
"Just now my tears and my smiles seem so absurd to me..."
"The high tide is only a short and stealthy light in the bewildered immensity of the dark dimension wrapping this low tide on which we have languidly stranded..."
"At present you seem to be the first one, the last one and the only one for me..."
"I was never and I will be never: I am always..."

Barren Moors
Rising evanescence – remote is the relief – ivory ivy – one more fix of grief
Pan please play for me – all the rain inside
path to wilderness – only blindfold I
see the stigmata wind – gave these hollow eyes
shifty colours flee – from the b/w line...

Desolation’s baptism impends
sulphurous embrace
fallen into different flesh
lying down to purple sky’s wall

Nocturnal sermon
expulsion of light
seeking the other door
my aura will be moonshine
Sublimation in the insanity of pain
Materialization of the sadness we drained

I’ve become the Wasteland
you wanted to be darkened with

No more vagrant
at home for one night
No more fear
to stare at the Old Might [All Might - Almighty]
Sludgy kneeler
a bandage to redeem
soft execution
by this heady fog I breathe

I’ve become the Wasteland
you wanted to be darkened with

I am the evanescence
looming loose – Barren moors
I am the ivy
weaving my loops – Barren moors

“… Poichè… la Morte… è sulle Colline…“
Monatti del XXI secolo, accorrete a ritirare la mia anima perché…
Ecco la ragione dello svuotamento dei tubi a conduttura adrenalinica!

Ma la rottamazione è davvero indolore?
Il riciclo dei tessuti metafisici è così naturale?

Lampeggiano finché...
Rumoreggiano finché...
Finalmente ecco un sillogismo saldo ed inattaccabile che... e quindi... visto che... eh!
Non sei anche tu spronato a svuotarti di tutte quelle... e di conseguenza... no?

Necroprofezie statuiscono la fatidica data dello...
E non è forse questa la sublimazione di tutte le angosce terrene che concretamente sono... e scientificamente significano...?

Ma io temo l’inverarsi delle mie speranze rivelatrici della nostra
fragilità... mortalità... caducità... opacità...

Noooo! Tutto fuorché... Doleo ergo sum. L’oblioooo!
Ti prego! Dimmi se c’è una rete che ci protegge nella nostra libera caduta verso...
Lacrimae sunt flatus animae. Il vuotoooo!
Ma anima=vita? Io ho un’anima? Io sono nato?
Tu sei forse una menzogna di una mia fatua auto-riproiezione cerebrale?
O la mia immagine è solo uno stanco duplex rievocativo di universi paralleli?

Ma, per il momento,
al Nord
esadimensionale,
incrocio di
trascendenza ed immanenza,
labile mente - oscuro universo,
il polo magnetico dell’oscurità celestiale, dotato di quella
mistica quanto arcana aurea
plumbea,

mi attrae
ir
re
si
sti
bil
men
te...

poiché... poiché... poiché... poiché...

l-la m-morte…
(eheheh) è sulle colline…

"... As... Death... Is On The Hills..."
21th century monattos, come to take back my soul because...
That’s the reason of the emptying of the adrenaline-conducting pipes!

But the wrecking-process is really painless?
Metaphysical tissues’ recycling is so natural?

They flash until...
They make a noise until...
At last, that’s a firm and unexceptionable syllogism which... and so... in consideration of... eh!
Aren’t you also spurred on emptying yourself with all those... and therefore... no?

Necroprophecies proclaim the fateful date of...
And isn’t maybe this the sublimation of all the earthly anguishes which in reality are... and scientifically mean...?

But I fear the realization of my hopes revealing our...
frailty... mortality... transience... opacity...

Noooo! I accept everything but... Doleo ergo sum [I feel pain so I am]... the Oblivion!
Please! Tell me whether there is a net protecting us in our free falling into... Lacrimae sunt flatus animae [Tears are the breath of soul]... the Void!

But soul=life? Have I got a soul? Was I born?
Aren’t you maybe a lie of a fatuous cerebral self-re-screening of mine?
Or is my image only a pale duplicator of parallel universes?

But, at present, at the hexa-dimensional North, transcendence and immanence point of crossing, faint mind-dark universe, the magnetic pole of the celestial obscurity, endowed with that mystical as well as arcane leaden aura,
attracts me ir-re-si-sti-bly...

because... because... because... because...

t-the d-death... (eheheh)... is on the hills...

Victim Of Distress
A plea, lividity of the mind, the havoc still within
Voiceless, clean and net, stinkless – But the ceiling is always too low...

Crown of thorns, a letter with no addressee, funeral wreath
A groan, a faith, a sigh – And so much nothing...

Beyond the verge of collapse, a never climbed ditch and the avalanche
Hallucinated, deadened, hollow and comforting – But the air never fails...

Under the staircase, bullet shot by no weapon, its well
Growing dim, the illusion... laughing towards oblivion

After, ever demise
Before, never life
Going backwards
Praying to fall

Weeping torpor
Breath of the void - robbed
Throwing off the mask
To be kissed by the dusk

Roaming the [whisper of] unease
Fallacious glimpses in bizarre galleries
Swallowing the sense of Black
The failure contained in a fist of angst

Bewilderment – Why should I?
Sweet bitterness – What could I?
Tender heaviness – The sun will nevermore rise
Reasons of life? – A self-annihilation desire...

The wolf blinded with darkness of nocturnal sun
The awakening of the disguised Eye
A sign from the rhomb of the question mark
And Athena gives herself up to Ulysses

The opaque river-bed fondles the vestal dove without anymore messages
Neurons evaporate in the dismayed fog which preserves the frenzy
The rain becomes a cursed benediction sealing the ash-Punishment
And the faint Future embraces again the sheltered Past...

Am I…?
Who
What
Where
Why
Am I... Am I?