Dedicated to the memory and legacy of Lord Euronymous
It has been known through-out history that those who choose a path of
Solitude, compared to the normality of average American democracy,
Are often shunned by outside society and are referred to as “Hermits.”
I, Oystein Per Urhseth, am not as such. I dwell in the dreary forests of Osk,
Approximately 30 kilometers from Bergen in Norway.
In contempt I live, bothered by none. I once lived in America,
in Baltimore actually, however I soon discovered that my birthplace,
these forests of Osk, in all their barren and haunting loneliness, I preferred
over the terrifyingly idiotic Americans and there dream of greed and
money. I am a son of northern darkness and in these woods I claim mine,
I precede to the old ways of the Vikings.
Disease does not plague me, for it is not here. People do not anger me,
For they are not here. The government does not molest me,
For there is no such ruling of the sort. Every morn and every evening I
Walk through the woods. Often I am accompanied by the souls of the
Dead, who have lost their way in the forests, or fallen off of the cliffs of
Tidiende.
I however, do not lose my way. The Spirits take great care to make sure I
Do not repeat the abominable mistake they made when they were full of
Life and glee.
People, mass numbers of them, do not interest me. I possess all I require
Inside my mind, constantly fueling the train of thought which
Keeps me from going insane. My wooden cabin suits me just fine
And I read literature of the highest sort to pass the time, ever so apathetic.
Joseph Glanville, Soren Kierekegaard, H.P. Lovecraft, all of which have
Created a distinguishable thirst for knowledge inside of me, burning hotter
every passing minute.
Society, as large as it is, resembles a never-ending sea of pestilence and
Stupidity, growing larger every passing second. They say every passing
Second a person is born, I shall see to it that death replaces
Life. For as the great Vikings once terrorized and bludgeoned Europe,
I too shall strike the essence of fear into the new world. Christianity is an utter
Maelstrom of doom, for which I must extinguish. Using taboos, I will
Free the world from a certainly hideous catastrophe! I will rid the world
Of this Jewish dream and the heathens shall once again rule Scandinavia
For the rest of existence. But, alas, I cannot act upon my desires. For my nemesis’s
Numbers are great. So, the forest is what I dream in and of upon. These woods,
These maze’s of Earth are my churches and here, until the time is right, I shalt dwell
In my abysmal dream of the future. For my literature is one of my
Greatest weapons of war, and with it I shall act upon my fantasy! I remember the
Future. I will create the past. And on the morrow humanity shant forget, for the sun
Shall not rise.
How could this ever be?
Each pulse is repellent
And I am draining into
The spiteful earth
Explain to me
As we watch the climate change
My blood runs cold
Like thoughts through my mind
Something is coming
But everyone is talking
Too much to know
It’s arrival is unannounced
And it will wash away most
Fret for everything you own
But know when it comes
All your material possessions
Will spiral away in the maelstrom
My suggestion:
Learn to swim.
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