Ovro

Very short fiction, lyrics, random thoughts

I am my own deamon

Your peril Your breath

Their heaven Their death

Your peril Their death

Your heaven Their breath

Their peril Your breath

Your heaven Their depth

Conquered & crowned Poisoned & proud Dawning & drowned Fawning & found Blinded & bound Sightless & sound

EP Liner notes

Exercising the inner demons may be better than exorcising them. I’m freely admitting not being the originator of that thought, but would add a reminder on the importance of exercising the inner daemon as well.

“I am my own daemon, I am my own demon.”

Such self-sufficient words! One’d think she’d sound more self-assured, though… The own daemon/demon speaks back.

“Your peril, your breath, Their heaven, their death, Your heaven, their breath…

Conquered & crowned, Poisoned & proud, Dawning & drowned, Fawning & found, Beaten & bound, Sightless & sound…”

Text and core of the sound were born in late autumn 2003.

#poetry #lyrics #DarkAmbient

Background info

Unlike many pieces I wrote in autumn of 2003, this is about working magick.


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

“I am the fucked-up breath of anti-life, The bastard child of Nix & Nada, The killing tide of myths undone, One with Nothing Nothing in One. I am the speed of Dark.

(– Where do you go little girl? What’s the sound of Abyss entering Void?)”

#lyrics #poetry #DarkAmbient

Background Info

Not a draft or unused piece, but definitely an old one. If I recall correctly, this dates back to before I dove head first into making sounds and was first posted on a Pagan IRC channel. Somebody floated a question about speed of dark, I got thinking about the consept and this was the result.

I don’t recall what the original title was, Statement of Inexistance was picked while I was fine-tuning track titles for Mosaick the Serpent EP.

Mosaick the Serpent can be found in Bandcamp to listen and to get your own.


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

“the noose is waiting it is your friend your one, last, only

let it all hang end the game, the shame, the blame

let it all hang

come, meet the noose you should, you know, you should end it the noose is the end you want it, you should

look at yourself you fool! unloved, unwanted, shamed

solution – the noose

let it all hang! you should!

end it you want it you should

who would care?

all forget you as they should you are forgotten before you even end it

let it all hang come, come to noose it is your friend”

#poetry #lyrics #DarkAmbient

Background Info

These lyrics were written in 2003 while I was really not feeling well. My then FWB had unilaterally decided to switch to ditching the ”WB” after meeting somebody new, but did not tell me about it until they got suffiently drunk and I asked why the sudden cold shoulder in the tenderness department. Until that revelation I was left feeling I must be utterly revolting. With the body issues and resulting insecurities that have been my life long companion things were bad. After? Not that much better. While I learned it wasn't that I had suddenly become undesirable, to my mind I was simply so much less desirable than somebody else – perhaps even anybody else.

To make things worse, my long time SO had started to drift away to the world and values of their father-figure-like boss and that relationship was heading downhill.

In my 2006 released double EP Mosaick the Serpent / Vipera Aurea this track’s liner notes said:

”You know how some people say they hear voices in their head, coaxing, advising, ordering them to end their lives? Have you ever wondered, whether these voices are “merely” the result of mental instability of the person in question, or whether there is somebody else there stuck in the same body (and partly mind?), wanting to be let out? Interpretation of such coaxing voices, written by putting meselves through practice of thinking in different states of mind.”

In reality, this is what was going trough my head at the time. Writing these thoughts down and naming the voice as another was a way of banishing.

On the album, the track ends with whispered words: ”Be banished!” Better stay banished.

MtS/VA is available at https://someplaceelse.bandcamp.com/album/mosaick-the-serpent-vipera-aurea


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

He's coming He's coming

the father of your father's your father's father's son

He's coming Like you my young one

the father of your father's your father's father's son

He's coming He's coming

The lust of your mother's what are you my young one?

#poetry #lyrics

Background Info

“Summoned I Summon” was a track I played live in the early 2000s and released on Vipera Aurea and then with a live version on Ten, which consisted of odd versions and live / live only tracks from the first ten years of me making music.

In a live setting the vocals were usually performed by Niko Skorpio as a quest vocalist, with me on the machinery controlling music, calling for the audience to wake up and proclaiming that he IS coming.

Ten is still available at: https://someplaceelse.bandcamp.com/album/ten


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

I have spoken myself empty Carved out my insides to shape words.

I have talked myself hollow Kept together by a cover this layer of skin.

I have cried myself bare Exposed my everything and bled raw.

I have thought myself void Realized being lacking on all that counts.

I have became sorrow.

#poetry


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

Monsters in the mind. Modern psychology would have them exorcized with a pill, artists exercise them into works of art.

#art #RandomThoughts


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

(version nro 2)

They came at night with their torches and weapons, like they always do. Teeth bared, eyes glazed, like they were in heat. Not for sex, but for the hunting of the less-than. Their idea of pleasure, always one-sided.

Nostrils flaring for the scent of fear, intoxicated by it.

Not my fear. Theirs. Fear of the Other. Of change.

Somewhere, faintly, fear of doing the wrong thing, of being found out, shamed.  Of what they see of themselves in me.

I sigh and get dressed, head to my front door and open it. Making sure of standing tall, head held high, like a hawk.

Getting out to meet the mob always robs them of the joy of an easy catch of a scared and cowering prey, so they fall silent.

Staring down the leader I declare: “It is not I who is the a monster!”

Deep down I realize: This I will not survive.

#Microfiction #ShortHorror


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

Never, ever read comments on articles about artists' (nonexistent) income.

An artist not getting supported by income from art seems to be “a parasite” – but, say, athletes should get all possible support from society.

“If they don't live off of competing, it's just a hobby and hobbies shouldn't be paid for by the state!” said no politician about sports, ever.

“If you/your kind of sports doesn't interest the paying public enough, switch to somwthing they're interested in or get a real job.” Not seen.

“Only a tiny fraction of athletes ever support themselves fully on sports, so better not encourage kids into it or spend on training 'em.”

“Those with TRUE talent in what people will pay to see for, will find their way to the top anyway. No need for athlete's grants.”

“What good is a sporting event anyway? You simply go and see it somewhere and can't even take the experience home as is.”

#RandomThoughts


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

Poetry, that's a strange beast of an art form.

Printed poetry & me: “I don't get this. Why can't you put this in plain words?” Mind you, this is independent on rhyming or modernlty, or being ancient.

Poetry set to music & me: “Oh THIS is what's the fuss of all this poetic stuff can be about! People have real things to say!”

Meanwhile, prose & me: Give me a good book and the world can disintegrate around me and I wouldn't notice before finishing the story.

To confuse myself more: I don't grok poetry that well, but have written some. Even pieces others have found deep meaning in.


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.

One of the most common reasons I've seen given for supporting #populists is “they speak their mind not bound by 'political correctness'”.

In practice this means “not caring if they hurt somebody's feelings – or downright lie, about a person or a huge group of them”.

Of course, these same folks cry persecution upon any and all disagreeing opinion, claiming their freedom of speech violated.

I've worked with kids and saw that pattern in some of the littlest ones. Not literally the freedom of speech line, but the general idea.

And, to put it frankly, I'd never want to see adults still in that “I'm the center of the universe and the only one that feels things” stage of development in position of power, but – sadly – too many are. Put to place by people enchanted by that “speaking their mind”...

So, unless you're willing to be governed by people who act like the littlest kids, demand adult behaviour in those you vote for.

Demandning true adult level of understanding with all the shades of gray & levels of not knowing enough to form a set, informed opinion would be much better, but seems a tad too much to ask in this day & age. I can hope, though.

#RandomThoughts


Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.