BAND NAME: Throne Of Awful Splendor
GENRE: Blackened Death Metal
STATUS: Unknown
LOCATION: Portland, Oregon
Lineup:
Rodney Wilder - Vocals
Curtis McTeigue - Guitars
Colin St. Claire - Bass, Vocals, Keyboards
Jason Borton - Drums, Keyboards, Clean Vocals
Links:
Discography:
The Supernal Hunger (EP)
January 27, 2014, Independent (Digital)
February 19, 2015, SkyBurnsBlack Records (Digital)
December 31, 2015, SkyBurnsBlack Records (CD-R)
1. The Supernal Hunger 6:49
The waste whipped to frenzy under vigilant stars,
Crashing mad and caustic, with the ocean it spars.
Shadows sprawl from light of the bleary-eyed moon,
Prostrate at the presence in the destitute gloom.
He clung to the Ghost, it called Him away,
To where the locusts and the tempests hold sway,
To sup on spectral manna, to drink deep the speech,
Despite abrosia - the guide!
"The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord."
Starvation switing Christ like a spear on the wind,
Against the rocky terraces of rubicund,
Yet lancing to the Saviour through the anguish and noise,
Balsamic sustenance in a fatherly voice.
He indulged the Ghost, which unto Him did the same,
For communion is the vittle surpassing the gastric domain,
It tended His soul 'til betwixt the crags there did grow,
The ambrosial Tree of Life!
"The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord."
The arid stretch with the Saviour therein yet besieged by scathing flaws,
And Jesus kept lidless eyes on His heavenly prize, His altruistic cause,
Whilst in His shadow painted serpents amassed from fissures rent with claws...
The Devil saw Christ in His wearied state as upon deprivation He stood,
And Satan leapt with wicked glee that his enemy had such anathema accrued.
No knowledge he holds of the benedight soul, the need beyond the pale--
Thus, he shall scheme to no avail.
"The thirst awakens and the hunger grows,
Sate me on Thy spirit, on Thy spirit, Lord."
2. A Nemesis Reared At Genesis 4:34
When that vain Heaven spat my caste across the skies,
It procured for itself this war on Paradise.
Now I shall rend its son.
Bones for the kingdom...
I am the end of all the works of men,
The learned versed in my original sin.
Now a Saviour comes to rid these fleas of me,
Dressed in flesh and its impotency.
I...
The garden's grievous blow.
Sedition in scarlet skin,
Fed to fools below.
My hands...
Rife with ripened death,
Stretching their asphyxiants
To Christ's deprived breath.
I am the one slavering in the dark,
Windswept voices guiding me to my impious mark.
The shepherd lies starving at my feet,
So I shall bring him food to eat...
Nazarene!
Why waste thou hungrily?
Stop waiting on God to fill!
Won't and never will...
"Thou are the lie behind the leprosy,
That rots the eyes God gave humanity,
Seeking not their God but bread in broken hands,
Finite as the faith struck on the sinking sands."
3. Trial Of Decimation 3:07
"I have warned with flaming sword,
Before the Ein Sof trod,
Yet it's thee in meek frailty
Revered as Son of God?
To the temple mount...
Throw
Thyself upon the razor-sharp stones.
Show
The care of thy Father who called thee His own.
Know
The angels in Heaven shall rush to thy aid,
Go...
Let Him His issue save."
Let Him His issue save."
"Impotent, puerile thing!
Thou shall achieve nothing.
Twice thou have come and now twice thou shall flee.
Twisting scripture again,
To keep the world in sin,
Thinking thy schemes can avail thee of me.
Thou tout from 'pon thy bier.
End of thy reign is here.
Know what it is to fear.
Test not thy God!"
The anthropophagous maw of Abaddon,
Then pursed confounded lips on six-tined tongue,
Staring ghostly oath to tempt anon...
Then gone!
"Though thou warned with flaming sword,
Though Heaven thou did trod,
Know beneath thy dear deceit,
I AM the Son of God."
4. LuciPhilosophaster 5:34
"I glimpse in the darkness,
God without a throne,
Shadows swirling beside Him,
In a kingdom of sand and stone.
The shadows they quiver with malice,
Refusing the touch of the light.
What is it that lurks on,
The desert air tonight?"
His wretched breath, graveolent exhaust,
To enmire the Christ in noxious froth,
Seething 'tween the teeth whose gnawing inspired Dante's awe.
Scaled in hematitic pride,
For the Deity his heart defied,
Wearing Hell's grotesqueries from hoof to sable eye.
This archetypical misanthrope,
Skulks his once-angelic bulk,
To God swathed in a threadbare cloak...
Creation recoils at his presence.
Light shines not upon his frame.
Light shines not upon his frame.
Nature bays its terror:
"Anathema! Corrosion incarnate!"
"Nazarene...
Bow down thy brow,
To me.
Nazarene...
All I shall give,
To thee."
Sweet and honey-viscous this reprisal of deceit,
The serpent emerged from Eden's curse to strike messianic feet,
But for his thrice-plied sirenical guile this slavering drake receives...
...A double-edged sword glossectomy.
"Satan! Get thee from me!
Worship God only..."
Thus Heaven, serpahim-tongued,
Threads space with bipolar songs,
Both joy and lament; the Saviour, the serpent,
Rent from their benedight throng...
LuciPhilosophaster!
All Lights Relinquished (EP)
June 2, 2018, SkyBurnsBlack Records (Digital)
June 2, 2018, Independent (Digital)
1. The Squirm Of Deserved Ascoma 5:07
Nature at last our eviction exhaled,
A gaunt abattoir with infection regaled.
From fungus and plume our deformed wights arise,
Shamble and vampirize...
The squirm of deserved ascoma.
A species that forgot its place:
Spores boring flora from out anguished face.
The squirm of deserved ascoma.
And flower Hells,
The cruelest of misanthropies:
That emboldening what already'd,
Sink teeth to itself.
Horror-spore, come forth!
Possess the reign,
Facilitating rape and strain;
Carve our hold with blooms,
Of croaking exeunt and doom.
The overlong dream mosses over:
The squirm of deserved ascoma.
The last of us.
2. Wolfsbane And Ivy 5:44
Where branches twist their boughs,
Throughout the blackened woods,
Broods that masque, Edenic asp,
Sought on lip and hood.
Singing snare--
Fathered into this dance:
Where once love strode each wild's command,
Now vows more Satanic entrance...
String me wayward totem,
Shadows put to toothed means.
Sheep bleat, fear our hollows:
Wolfsbane and ivy.
Abandoned to a purpose erst never in our seed--
"Whet the jaw! Blood the sabbat! Bewill us to fly!"
Appropriated, our bones for the church his cancer decreed,
Bonfire fruit to soothe the wound of the manger.
Virtue deemed to have fled these Hecatonchires,
After Eden's serpent struck their gardened root,
Those born to join the forest in its worship,
Turned and left the birthright to witchcraft and soot.
Now our psithurisms reek of spited sons,
Prayer made the pungence of their bodies burning.
But what blood said to devil our sylvan hymnals with its baths,
Can efface such paths?
Come back!
Leaves green this skeletal reach in longing,
For no further urge to fall...
Still, the unintestined grotesque,
Of creation's inverted edifice:
Claws and palates slaked to usurper's whim,
Which promptly fosters worms and fungi within.
But where slaughters the spell,
An older law detrita knell...
Necrophagous shoots and spores,
Unwind their constant gospel through the ruin of death,
Lichening the blasphemies beshrouding our dark,
Until there's nothing left.
The rites that drank your babes,
Unmade while we pine.
Oh, unbloodied air,
Each prodigal spring divines!
Meet me ageless totem,
Shadows true and green.
I, darksome peace, I am the wood;
I am for your good.
3. Withering Into The Autumn Rot 8:31
We, the kindling of this whittling onset.
What slumped husk doesn't know this war?
The foetor-scented fingertips spousing our kind,
With foliage and tendril, desiccation and spore.
The arboreal maw,
Dotting suns under teeth,
Grotesque penult:
Forms bored beneath.
Born betrothed to this lover in the allure,
Twixt earth and bodies that succumb to its trysts,
Some scratch its tally with recalcitrant claws,
While others offer waters from their wrists.
And I find my plot in between each response,
As useful as the rot that these bowers ensconce...
Autumn-wont!
Heart I've drained over stone and bark,
To lend my days more than the mound where we depart...
Undone!
Carrion'd by the cruelty of wind,
My life led to rescind.
Every epitaph eventually fades,
The Nature of the place to disregard ours,
Foregone sehnsuchts unsuccored by,
Even a firmament of posthumous stars.
Thus the desperation veining,
Everything I touch with what this cadence conducts;
Thus the sun-gutted sky and cold of lichened goodbyes,
When I've unhearted myself and it's still not enough.
My worth returns: the dearth of earthward branches,
A forest floor my wasted make to claim.
I lie, my one use preluded with moss,
Drawn over crestfall as extinguished eyes,
Find the night burning my name...
Older-sown than my search,
Worthied in ageless flame.
The burdens of worth and of grace,
Breathe peace back to...
Autumn,
I become.
My heart slows its beat,
Drums with warmth replete...
Drums its gift to death.
Autumn!
4. Rite 6:17
Here, fog wanders warily.
Here, moonlight falls too thin,
And the choirs quiet throat and night-announcing limb,
At the squat, dilapidated affront their murk therein.
"I pry wide a path,
For this blood more light,
More life than that belying messiah could provide.
Such hollow hands..."
And hence the floorboards gored with that ambition's lurid bark,
But more, the countless eyes felt staring from the dark.
What necrophagous plot contradicts the dead necessitated by glory?
...No less that throng's transcendence involuntary!
For a majesty bidding no knee,
No horror'd lash too deep...
And the forest's taloned rafters still hold,
The Hell born on the perishing's weep.
"I slew and strewed these sons and daughters,
My hands' red weight evidence the wage,
I should attain in state on high...
But come no winged attendants!
No gouts of power recompensing sin-slaked veins!
Just dark!
The shift inside the shadows atop,
What ought to be lifeless remains..."
I am the ill intent,
Who set upon the traveler on a road,
That he should not have been on.
And caterwauled that sunken hovel the last refrain from out its hoarsened chorus,
Curse complete in tongue that lolled in glossolalia pleading relief from each stoven-faced pubescent reaching out for his feet.
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