This is a duet between Eshita Chahal and Ankur Bhardwaj.

Italicized verses are of Eshita and the rest of Ankur’s

Looking for the death clock

For thy shall toll, when the raven moon befalls, 

Upon the lire's chair, in my satanic lair

Kill Me!!

Kill, kill for a soul to spill, the darkness within, the grim and the grin, 

For, the dim, in the brim of the ravenous moon, scares me...

Reward me with death, few tears, and few fears 

As the ravenous moon, scares you. It bares me 

Unveil and reveal the unmasked me

Fear? Fear, The lord within! The howl of the oceans, rise, surprise, 

The dark of the gloom, for you, vanishes in the shadow of your coffin

In our last plight, I enslaved several illusions of light

Now the fire to be lightened is merely a myth 

As the gloom brought vain within, I crave for strains, a mindless solitary

Nonexistent existence 

In a death loom

Room, oh, you talk of the lighted room, in the soup of gloom? 

Or in the heart of an agonized cupcake? 

In the misery of a dying child? 

Or in the eyes of a dying son's father!!

Apathetic I am, diseased I am, for once I cared, and now I stare! 

Enjoy your fallacious LIGHTED ROOM!

In dark I reside now, I have decided my side now

Nay, the sadist in me is making grounds... 

Never will I look again for gloom, as I have found respite in doom 

The dying child and his father... 

Are my priorities rather

I'll serve life to live my death

So not dead, in the crowd of living dead, you are. 

For a humane, once relived, reviving the death-charm of blood, 

Broods and floods, of the pure-bloods, in the holy grounds of graves, 

For the so-not brave, who all but crave the shamed fall.

I am high up left the horizon, conscience s and churned 

The one relived and died again, in this flimsy humanity, my soul is burned, 

The low-blood lied for the pride, I brood alone in this holy abbey and 

Those who craved for shame fall, are hung in the exhibition hall, 

To seek superficial win over the wordy darkness and we, My sire! Are counts of

Deathly madness.

Oh, the sounds, oh the colors, oh these cute little flowers

Mayday, mayday, mayday, for a soul, turned broke

Did you find hope?

No dope for coping the world of droolers.

Fools, fools all around, sheathing you, in you, from you

Don’t glue, oh I tell you, tis' wary, but true

Craved, shaped, paved, made; for the so-not true.

Oh! Sire, you know it better 

Who guides the world in the name of morals? 

Every immoral impersonal becomes the deity, the lords 

They feed us lies in the name of goods 

They feed us agony in the name of hoods 

All are scum mongers in this exquisite garden of senses

In, sensible I am. In the ecstasy I am

Of my dark haze, in the paradoxical maze, I flow

Free and unending with denial, I go

So should you uncorrupt yourself of the false glow

Blow death; grow, for the so-not-ho

And let the crows bow at the graves of those who rule

Rule the blood, I tell you,

Let not the blood rule through!

As you say, my morn ranger 

Because I have fasted for so long for death 

The upheaval raised my hunger for blood 

No, as I am turned into a non-existent being 

I die and live to praise my own things 

I'll fly numerous flights with my sacred bird

In search of emergence in the dark and dearth of life

Oh, you seek emergence? The fugitive resurgence?

Remember Faustus! It’s a dark exhorter

Pulling you, saving you, all along

But deprived you will be of the songs

The merry, those falsified who marry,

The so-called life!

Resurrected, survived, revived in the womb of darkness

Hail, the limitless night

I, by no means here, want means of life like Faustus 

I, in no scenes I called to be any pact for life 

All I seek is respite in death and dark 

Underneath this benign soil, like a brooding lark 

I have a desire to tame a soul 

All I want from you to erase my marks

Oh, child, sleep; on the summoned night,

You will find the truth of the truce

Your breaths, so calm, steady as the howling of doom

The mountains and oceans rise to the crimson

When he takes a leap into the moon

Wait; wait for your time will come,

Hail; hail, for the dark, shall prevail!

Now that your sacred words are leashed out for me 

I array stray me on the path thee see for me 

You are the one gleaming right in the hoards of wrong 

To thy free will I grow strong 

As the sky screams aloud your holy poesy 

The night befalls in the dreams of your poetry 

Oh! Sire 

I bow to your darkened, enlightened form 

I'll hail for the dark 

And always, the darker shall prevail!

The words might end the wars

Will never ends the mutiny to gods

I have, but no preservative in me

The eroding, constant and pure fades me

What is, ‘WILL’ remains, is the poe-yet-tree

Yet to be seeded in the soils of ocean

I have stormed my seeds well,

Shredded the acid rain in the well

For pain is a weakling thing, dark,

Brave men travel in the dark woods

We have exceeded the starkness 

We have exceeded the darkness 

No God, No Evil 

In this penumbra of fading faith 

The wars are still on, 

The revolts are still rebelling against man in illusions 

Unanswered, they live this profusion 

Let’s plague the physic's sayings of a better 

I follow thee in every matter 

And the weak never raid my visions 

We are the brave fellows 

Journeying in the dark willows

The meadows that led to the pilgrim

Sounds and scrapes of the lighted you

Ignited and brightened, devoid of visibility

Your illuminated, dark, serene

The same meadows still hold light

Across the world’s haze and a false light

I see you in the cosmos

Illuminated as the nothingness itself

Let no more deny, Pure-Bloods, we are

The heirs of purebloods, thus purebloods!

The adverse is my mystic self 

The pure blood flows within me, and thee

The procuring functioning divulges my sins 

I am here for my sins 

The truthful and honest wins 

I am vice, and I am honored

In the wake of dawn, forth the eons

Under the shelter of the strumming stars

Far awake in the heart of the night

Our sins, come forth light

In the lap of nature

I feel I am at home 

The bricks and creaks

I feel I am dead and liberated 

From the chains and gains of livelihood

Let go of the hazardous breath

Heat, fire the heart of metal

Unbuttoned stands the lady of lie

Dirt, fear, peel off the shell

Reveal; liberate yourself

The end is not death, yet to come!

There are outnumbered naked devils 

Walking shamelessly in the so-called house of god 

They crown themselves as superior beings 

Breaking all modesty, elegance, and brilliance 

They sit in the paradise of Satan

Close your eyes, for you have far more sights

Peep into and beyond the veil of sound

Let not the shell be you

Home the most dreaded truth of death

The coffin does, too, to those who are ruled!

I am in bliss, as I am deaf 

Only those sounds make me move to home 

Which are generated within 

From the beyond, let us let the by-gone 

Be a memory, a vestige of our plagued being 

Now that I am healed and cured 

And so out of this shell and sheet of flimsy time 

I have fused into the coffin I am lying in

Oh, child! Catharcinated you are, so your soul

Let go the tears that won’t dry for many years

For those who peel, reveal, are the slave of years!

Strike the death’s immortal dart

Into the heart of the poisoned you, no immortalis

Can unveil the truths, but you!

The coffin you’re fused to, used to, is a mare carrier

To carry your sins by and forrader time

We may not send the end 

To end, the sand 

For the lurking hands 

The art resides in the heart darkened with light 

To penlight the night 

To pen down the spirit of darned darkness in me 

Who is a sinner to lurch the transformation in poetry 

Because a genre cannot be a barricade 

To express the dimensions of my words

Oh! Forsaken one, the glass you’ve to reach

Mirrors we are, so let it be

This poe in you now is not yet, but true

Sins of fearlessness are art; thou finds in me

In you, in us, togetherness blooms

Dusk and dawn are not, but a scale

The eastward stone is not stationed

So are we; brightened, enlightened, and in motion

On this organic spaceship of talking monkeys!

Replete this organic world with our last essence 

Smother the sadistic palpation in a monkish peel

As the core is sacred and so is our togetherness 

Let the monkeys die in the wrath of factious shit 

We are notions of nothingness 

Going from things to thinks

Let not your thoughts wander

Far and below, hear the thunder

Hear from the eyes of night

And look into the years of flight

Let the raven wings be-spread

And the curtain raiser fall, sweeping the walls

Off this worldly world of deprived sense

Past days of decimated rage, tuned into fine

Fine strands of golden solitude spread across you!

More than the precise verbatim 

My wandering thoughts lift me higher in doom 

The doom I romance in the aura of goth symphonies 

The serenity of the golden quest of words 

My sire! 

The raven is the engrossed embellishment I wear 

The show is on, all the wait calls for is the mending end 

There is no space for rage in this infinite being in me 

And so in you

You’ve grown my child

Like a deeded seed from the old ones

Vaster are your sights

But to tale the saga of human slaving

You should reside in the mortal shell, so well

So as to reflect within, from within,

On the brimming shadow of this not-so-pure san

Unaware of the toxicity, mastered human is

By and from, the gust of greed lead them into beyond

And now, the bell tolls, raven’s moon befalls,

Here arrives the 25th hour

Before the words are spoken and spell broken

Scrape meadows no more, but the dark tower

Yet the end is to fall, un-denied!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eshita Chahal

Death-Fuel