this supplied about 4 years worth of reoccurring nightmares as a kid.
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this supplied about 4 years worth of reoccurring nightmares as a kid.

(via unouomedudee)

Boot Beats

Here’s a comp I did for a blog I’ve recently started writing for/ contributing to. If you like punk, hardcore, oi, dancehall, reggae, or dub chances are you’ll enjoy this.

HERE

[just checked it out, and was kinda bummed the Reckless Aggression track I meant to put on here somehow didn’t compress. I’ll probably get this fixed by tomorrow]

Nuclear Newborns/ Born A Bomb his father was a fire, his mother was molten steelthey cast their love, in hopes to make it realunder the moon, and stars, a womb was packed full of explosives, and a chargeand then there was a sparka baby was born, and a country was warnedthis things a bomb - 5/9/11
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Nuclear Newborns/ Born A Bomb

his father was a fire, his mother was molten steel
they cast their love, in hopes to make it real
under the moon, and stars,
a womb was packed full of explosives, and a charge
and then there was a spark
a baby was born, and a country was warned
this things a bomb

- 5/9/11

Panic Plague Spit out your mother tongue, mutter & stutter you’re heathen hexGet cursedTry and tomb my black magic, and strip the pentagrams from the floorGot this head-spin vertigo, got my demons I’ll never let goGet dead, or get goneWe charmed our way through the gates of hell, like a bat coming backI never wanna burn out, never wanna fade to blackThe gospel lied right through crooked teeth, Said it’s where the evils of the world go to die, said it’s where the sinners sleepDidn’t see as many cops as I thought, but the place was full of priestsStay restless in pieces with the doctrinator resuscitators, and bible beggarsDeath to yer god, death yer preachersFuck yer doctrine, fuck yer dead-looks, and fuck yer wing-bleachersGet away from me, I’ve heard enough of yer tongueless talkKeep running, keep running, keep runningAnd burn 100 pathsTurning sand to glass and cities to ashFor a God who never stopped by and never looked backEat yer words hysteria heirs - 9.8.11 [picture] // 26.9.09 [poem]
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Panic Plague

Spit out your mother tongue, mutter & stutter you’re heathen hex
Get cursed
Try and tomb my black magic, and strip the pentagrams from the floor
Got this head-spin vertigo, got my demons I’ll never let go
Get dead, or get gone
We charmed our way through the gates of hell, like a bat coming back
I never wanna burn out, never wanna fade to black
The gospel lied right through crooked teeth,
Said it’s where the evils of the world go to die, said it’s where the sinners sleep
Didn’t see as many cops as I thought, but the place was full of priests
Stay restless in pieces with the doctrinator resuscitators, and bible beggars
Death to yer god, death yer preachers
Fuck yer doctrine, fuck yer dead-looks, and fuck yer wing-bleachers
Get away from me, I’ve heard enough of yer tongueless talk
Keep running, keep running, keep running
And burn 100 paths
Turning sand to glass and cities to ash
For a God who never stopped by and never looked back
Eat yer words hysteria heirs

- 9.8.11 [picture] // 26.9.09 [poem]

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
  • 52 Plays
  • Dirty KnifeNeko Case

So suddenly the madness came
With its whiskered, wolven, ether pangs
He locked the door
And shut the blinds
He laid down on the floor and he slept like iron
While the dirty knife worked deep
Into his spine
The blood runs crazy
The blood runs crazy

Cascading letters pool on the stairs
The grass is high, the cats are wild
You can’t even touch the tip of their tails
And the blood runs crazy with giant strides

He sang nursery rhymes to paralyze
The wolves that eddy out the corner of his eyes
But they squared him frozen where he stood
In the glow of the furniture piled high for firewood

And the blood runs crazy with giant strides
And the woodsman failed to breech those fangs in time
So they dragged him through the underbrush
Wearing three winter coats and a dirty knife

Krichit shaleno, strekoche zubami

La la la la, la la la la

Krichit shaleno, strekoche zubami 

La la la la, la la la la

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

Charles Bukowski - Love is a Dog From Hell: Poems, 1974-1977 

Sham 69 - Borstal Breakout

No More Good Days I go to bed with the thoughts rollin’ round like rocks, Inside my hollow headKeepin’ me up all night with the thoughts Of her and I rollin’ round in my bedBut I keep on, keeping on, with the hope that all my love ain’t goneAnd I keep on, keep, keep, keep onHoping she ain’t the only oneTell me she’s not the only oneMissing the way she used to smile at meReminded me it’s all okayNow nothin’ looks, smells, or tastes the sameNow it all feels grayAnd everyday, I feel like I’ve felt much better, Bet I’ll always be indebted to herWho’s to say, I am the man that I pretended to be just yesterdayWoah-oh-ohhWhere did I go?Where did she go?I don’t knowLord knows I don’t knowOh-ah-ohhhhI don’t knowWhere she goes, or which way the wind will blow - 14/8/11
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No More Good Days

I go to bed with the thoughts rollin’ round like rocks,
Inside my hollow head
Keepin’ me up all night with the thoughts
Of her and I rollin’ round in my bed
But I keep on, keeping on, with the hope that all my love ain’t gone
And I keep on, keep, keep, keep on
Hoping she ain’t the only one
Tell me she’s not the only one

Missing the way she used to smile at me
Reminded me it’s all okay
Now nothin’ looks, smells, or tastes the same
Now it all feels gray
And everyday,
I feel like I’ve felt much better,
Bet I’ll always be indebted to her

Who’s to say, I am the man that I pretended to be just yesterday
Woah-oh-ohh
Where did I go?
Where did she go?
I don’t know
Lord knows I don’t know
Oh-ah-ohhhh
I don’t know
Where she goes, or which way the wind will blow

- 14/8/11

aconversationoncool:

“It never got weird enough for me.” ~Hunter S. Thompson

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(via psychedelic-v-i-b-e-s)

heavy fuckin metal
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heavy fuckin metal

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I’m so fucking filled with hate.
I just need to decapitate.
Just for kicks I need to kill.
Everybody’s got to get their thrills.

I’ll stain with world with your blood.
I’ll bury your bodies deep in the woods.
Your feet are over here your hands over there.
I’ll never get caught so I don’t care.

It’s time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.

I’m so fucking filled with rage.
I just need to decapitate.
Just for kicks I need to kill.
Everybody’s got to get their thrills.

I’ll stain with world with your blood.
I’ll bury your bodies deep in the woods.
Your feet are over here your hands over there.
I’ll never get caught so I don’t care.

It’s time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.
Time to die you’re next.
You’re next!

hellhound
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hellhound

One of my favourite tattoo artists. He’s commissioned work for bands like Doomriders (Darkness Come Alive LP), Trap Them, Bloodhorse as well as some work for the Shirts and Destroy label. His style incorporates a lot of symmetry, geometry as well as some woodcut influences, and some Hare Krishna visual aesthetics.
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One of my favourite tattoo artists. He’s commissioned work for bands like Doomriders (Darkness Come Alive LP), Trap Them, Bloodhorse as well as some work for the Shirts and Destroy label. His style incorporates a lot of symmetry, geometry as well as some woodcut influences, and some Hare Krishna visual aesthetics.

(via lynseyhayton)