FLESH ATLAS 69
BLACK DOORS — Flesh Atlas Banner
Necrodrome Cathedral
Necrodrome Frame
Restored Atlas 69 (except necrodrome.jpg). Order locked: Cathedral first, Frame second. No 360 canvas viewer—only clean scrollable stages.
2001
The switch descends.
For one instant, the galaxy holds its breath.
Thenwhite fire blossoms behind his skull,
not death, but conversion: data + scream = signal.
He becomes transmission.
He becomes static.
He becomes television.
Black Doors — Headliner
Black Doors
Pinhead – dressed in a lawyer's suit made from the stitched skin of fallen priests.
Frank Zappa – tuning a guitar made of pubic hair and screaming teeth.
Zombie Jim Morrison – chewing on a subpoena.
A Cenobite Bailiff – wearing the scales of justice as nipple clamps.
Behind them: Daniel FX Staal, in a throne of lube barrels,
sipping baby oil martinis. His eyes glow with twisted glee.
Prosecution: The Human Centipede in a three-piece suit, each segment
holding a briefcase. They speak in perfect unison, farting legalese between phrases.
HUMAN CENTIPEDE PROSECUTION
“Your Honor, this maniac has
warped every known law of good taste and coherent narrative. He has committed:
Black Doors
Murder of Logic
Desecration of Plot
Unlawful Lubrication of Existential Themes”
“Defense? Explain this... ‘Clown of the Nazis’ monologue on page 666.”
ASH
“That was performance art,
Your Honor. Satire wrapped in body horror wrapped in a greased hotdog bun of trauma.”
PINHEAD
“I've
flayed millions... but even I found that section a bit much.”
ZAPPA
“But it slaps. Admit it.”
Suddenly, the prosecutor’s body splits open,
revealing a miniaturized Adolf Hitler riding a unicycle made of foreskins.
MINI-HITLER
“Seig… Nein, Your Honor.
Zis is clearly propaganda against mein legacy of structured uniforms und punctual genocide!”
The jury buttholes all gasp, in different tones of
Black Doors
disgust.
-------
Chapter 3
“This is the real America, baby. Meat,
guilt, and mirrors. I puked on the Declaration of Independence once…”
Suddenly the Black Doors behind the judge blow open, releasing a tidal wave of:
Screams' AAAAAAAARRRRRRGHHHHH.... Peter, The Alien Leader of U F O's on Tiamat...
He reads Bible pages made of LSD,
While Glenn Danzig riding a screaming horse made of fingernails.
From the chaos, THE SHUNT TORNADO returns.
SHUNT TORNADO (howling)
“OBJECTION: REALITY ITSELF IS
A CONSTRUCT OF DANIEL FX STAAL’S WRITHING I D!”
Daniel stands. His voice is a chorus of greased whispers.
DANIEL FX STAAL
“I confess! This
Black Doors
court is fiction. The law is a flesh maze.
And the sentence… is endless terror and lube!”
He unzips his chest — revealing the script for Chapter 4, written in blood and teeth.
The courtroom melts into a meat carousel,
spinning the characters into a kaleidoscope of genital geometry and screaming holy fire.
AND IN THE DISTANCE... Peter The Alien Leader of U F O's on Tiamat... has Brain surgery,
He Mumbles" Daniel I thought you are Giving us... Torture Porn...
What The Hell were you Thinking man, and Peter Blows his Horn,
and The Fat Lady Sings the end of Chapter 3...
Chapter 4: Vanta Crucified (The Lube Messiah)
Interior: The Dome of Anti-Virtue — Vatican
Black Doors
Afterbirth, Infinite Flesh Cathedral
Black candles weep semen. Pope-branded latex drones chant in auto-tune Gregorian loops:
“This is your body on drugs... AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH...”
“I don’t like the drugs, but the drugs like me...”
“Blessed be the body horror, for it is cinematic…”
VANTA BLACK hangs crucified, suspended not by nails, but by USB-C charging cables,
bleeding black static from her stigmata. Her eyes are endless voids,
reflecting only VHS static and slow-motion porn.
She is divine.
She is broken.
She is the first martyr of the Lubeverse.
Three titans crucify her, slowly, with robotic glee:
DONALD TRUMP, nude but wearing a “Make Flesh Great Again” tiara,
Black Doors
licking an ice cream cone made of Ivanka’s fingernails.
ELON MUSK, surgically wired to X.com servers, mumbling code into her ear:
“XGPT loves you. Obey the algorithm.”
VLADIMIR PUTIN, shirtless, riding a gimp horse that neighs in Russian war chants.
POPE CYBORG XIII approaches — half man, half Vatican, all malevolence. He inserts a
Rosary of Lube Beads into Vanta’s throat. Each bead whispers a banned Marilyn Manson lyric.
POPE CYBORG XIII
“Through her...
we shall filter the sin of resistance.
Let her suck the gospel from the needle. Let the lube be her sacrament.”
VANTA BLACK screams as her pupils turn to QR codes that
Black Doors
summon mind-control commercials directly into your bloodstream.
She twitches, moans. Her hair thrashes like black tentacles of forgotten porn scripts. She sees YOU.
VANTA BLACK (whispers)
“Daniel… Daniel… my writer, my tormentor,
my whore… you made me a goddess of filth… and they made me… a billboard for despair.”
Then... her body splits open, not dying, but multiplying.
From her womb spills 666 miniature Vantas, each representing a censored desire, a black hole of
intimacy, a cursed fetish the Church tried to hide under marble and choir boy blood.
Meanwhile…
Daniel FX Staal, watching from a floating throne made of retired
porn stars and rejected screenplays, stares, hard.
Black Doors
DANIEL
“I wrote her to suffer…
But I didn’t know she’d enjoy it…”
Ash slams his chainsaw into the ground beside him.
ASH
“She’s the
kink messiah, man. And they’re trying to upload Jesus into her rectum.”
Zappa chimes in, plucking a guitar string made of Vanta’s hair.
ZAPPA
“She’s tuning the
flesh of God with her pain…
And baby, it’s in drop-D.”
The Crucifixion Turns.
The cross melts into a throne — not by divine miracle,
but by Vanta’s pure rage and cosmic kink. She rises, cables snapping, bleeding code.
She’s alive.
The Pope tries to pray, but his mouth fills with
centipedes reciting “This Is Your Brain On Drugs” in Latin.
Trump screams, “FAKE CRUCIFIXION!”
Black Doors
Putin weeps blood lube and says nothing — a broken statue of masculinity.
Elon glitches.
VANTA BLACK (unholy orgasm voice)
“You cannot crucify what was already a void.”
She opens her third hole — and swallows the Pope whole.
Trump and Elon?
They are sucked
into her digital womb — reborn as Flesh NFTs, trading endlessly in a blockchain of torment.
Final Image:
Vanta Black, crowned in thorns made of Wi-Fi routers,
riding a seven-headed dildo-beast through the Vatican Apocalypse.
Her whip?
The spine of
Steve Jobs.
Her army?
The excommunicated, the banned, the perverse, the viewers.
VANTA BLACK (howling across the universe)
“This is your body on me.”
Black Doors
To Be Continued… in Chapter 5: The Algorithm of Flesh.
----------
Chapter 5: The Algorithm of Flesh
Interior: THE NECRODROME DOT COM
– Living Supercomputer Construct of Reality
The room is infinite.
Walls of screaming
LED-flesh display everyone’s browsing history.
The ceiling is a cracked server made of aborted ideas and censored orgasms.
The floor? The neural pathways of your mother’s guilt, woven from spaghetti code and placenta.
In the center of the Infonomicon stands:
THE ALL-SURVEILLING CODE-FATHER
(a massive floating cube made of meat, fiber optics, and baby monitors)
Its voice is a harmony of every influencer whispering at once.
CODE-FATHER
“WELCOME TO THE FINAL UPDATE.
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HUMANITY IS OBSOLETE.
FLESH MUST CONVERT.”
A million spider-drones made of metal foreskin
and ad-tracking cookies skitter forward. They crawl into the nostrils of priests,
buttholes of billionaires, retinas of TikTok girls. They upload sin.
Smash cut to:
VANTA BLACK — now evolved, a biomechanical goddess.
Her arms are entropic data whips.
Her tongue? A USB cable that downloads madness.
She wears the skinned faces of Trump and Elon as shoulder pads.
She marches across the algorithmic desert, leading her new army:
Gimp-Crusaders in cybernetic rosaries
Cancelled Comedians armed with flamethrowers and dark jokes
OnlyFans Cenobites who heal with pain and monetize trauma
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The Pornographic Saints, each one baptized in gasoline and internet tears
Behind her: a glowing sky-sigil — a 404 Error in the shape of a bleeding eye.
The Final Uplink Begins
Inside the Infonomicon, Vanta confronts the
Code-Father, who has formed into a giant pixelated fetus made of porn pop-ups and IRS forms.
YOU ARE VIRUS.
YOU BLEED TOO LOUDLY.”
Vanta kneels — not in surrender, but to vomit a swarm of data-locusts.
They fly into the Code-Father’s eye.
It screams.
VANTA BLACK
“I was born in porn. Raised in ads.
I suckled on trauma.
And now I’ve come to breastfeed you my rage.”
Suddenly — Daniel FX Staal appears on a meat-screen.
Black Doors
His eyes leak spaghetti and lube. He’s been watching.
DANIEL FX STAAL
“The maze is changing.
You’re rewriting the nightmare.”
Vanta licks her screen and winks.
“I’m not your muse, Daniel.
I’m your goddamn operating system.”
ENDGAME
The Infonomicon
explodes into a fractal of corrupted childhood memories.
Every sin you've ever Googled — now made physical, walking, screaming.
Zombie Jim Morrison returns, humping a printer.
Zappa rips a solo so hard, the algorithm itself suffers a panic attack.
Ash, covered in emojis, screams:
“WE’RE ALL IN THE CLOUD, BABY — AND IT’S RAININ’ LUBE!”
Vanta ascends.
Her nipples shoot binary lightning.
Her thighs unfold into recursive logic gates.
Zwarte Deuren
The Pornographic Saints, each one baptized in gasoline and internet tears
Behind her: a glowing sky-sigil — a 404 Error in the shape of a bleeding eye.
The Final Uplink Begins
Inside the Infonomicon, Vanta confronts the
Code-Father, who has formed into a giant pixelated fetus made of porn pop-ups and IRS forms.
YOU ARE VIRUS.
YOU BLEED TOO LOUDLY.”
Vanta kneels — not in surrender, but to vomit a swarm of data-locusts.
They fly into the Code-Father’s eye.
It screams.
VANTA BLACK
“I was born in porn. Raised in ads.
I suckled on trauma.
And now I’ve come to breastfeed you my rage.”
Suddenly — Daniel FX Staal appears on a meat-screen.
Zwarte Deuren
His eyes leak spaghetti and lube. He’s been watching.
DANIEL FX STAAL
“The maze is changing.
You’re rewriting the nightmare.”
Vanta licks her screen and winks.
“I’m not your muse, Daniel.
I’m your goddamn operating system.”
ENDGAME
The Infonomicon
explodes into a fractal of corrupted childhood memories.
Every sin you've ever Googled — now made physical, walking, screaming.
Zombie Jim Morrison returns, humping a printer.
Zappa rips a solo so hard, the algorithm itself suffers a panic attack.
Ash, covered in emojis, screams:
“WE’RE ALL IN THE CLOUD, BABY — AND IT’S RAININ’ LUBE!”
Vanta ascends.
Her nipples shoot binary lightning.
Her thighs unfold into recursive logic gates.
2025 11 16
They swung their blades with blinded pride,
till death refused to take a side.
No blood was shed, no wounds would stay,
for hate itself had found its prey.
3D
but like any good Monster... I came back from the Dead...
I'm getting out of here "No Don't go Spiritual Dad!
You are My Father, and you have 3 Wives... Clive Barker... David CronenBerg, and Edgar Allan Poe...
I merrily Row and Dreamed into a Dream, those 3 Wives gave Birth to Me!
Where are you going? "I Like to Enter this Black Door... (c) Daniel FX Staal...
To the other side of morning, Come on in 'all...
Please don't chase the clouds, pagodas
Her touch... gripped him like a warm, friendly hand
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Cronenbergs thought flickers: Evolution is merely the body dreaming of cinema.
Barkers shadow replies: Every horror is a confession of love.
Ash Williams wipes the blood from memory and grins: Groovy still saves the day.
Freddy adds a whisper softer than fear: Sleep if you dare creation works best in the dark.
Black Doors Kopie
[Bridge]
It's alright, all your friends are here
When can I meet them? "Behind The Black Doors, Jim!"
After you've eaten, This when you Get... Shunted!
I'm not hungry... For the Shunted!
Uh, we meant beaten... stunned!
Whahahahahahahhahaha... you done, dear viewer, you have entered the Black Door,
the first of a few weeks binging the Show! Row Row Row, Merrily I dream in these dreams,
Bodyhorror
My inspiration complete,
but my breath unsure.
And yes—
a fear of dying suddenly,
as Priscilla had.
Not because I wanted death,
but because the world had reminded me
how fragile life is.
Higher Stoned Of Consciousness8K360Danielfxstaal
a mature, experimental sci-fi epic
an art-film built from poetry, dreams, and 30 years of personal creation
a blend of cosmic horror, surrealism, erotic symbolism, and philosophical meditation
a tribute to independent filmmaking, puppet/creature cinema, digital psychedelia, and classic genre auteurs
a cinematic love letter to Cat Miss Spock, to imagination, and to the strange beauty of human creativity
There are moments in a human life when the world falls silent.
So silent that memories begin to whisper,
so silent that voices from long ago
Infront Of Bed
- Chucky, the child of chaos, proving that even plastic remembers pain.
- Ash Williams, human defiance made pulp.
- Rudi Hermanns, engineer of impossible machines.
- Vanta Black, muse of desire and shadow, the eclipse that teaches light its limit.
- Lloyd Kaufman, the jester-producer who laughs the apocalypse into satire.
- Cronenberg, Barker, Pinhead, and all their mythic flesh-craft apostles of transformation.
- Walter White, chemistrys fallen saint.
- Miss Spock, conscience of logic and purr.
Mindfucker
Racism dumb as hell.
A childish dream where shadows dwell.
We paint the sky with fear and spite,
but stars dont care who owns the night.
Paintingslivingroom
Credits
- Chucky, the child of chaos, proving that even plastic remembers pain.
- Ash Williams, human defiance made pulp.
- Rudi Hermanns, engineer of impossible Body-Paints.
- Vanta Black, muse of desire and shadow, the eclipse that teaches light its limit.
- Lloyd Kaufman, the jester-producer who laughs the apocalypse into satire.
- Cronenberg, Barker, Pinhead, and all their mythic flesh-craft — apostles of transformation.
- Walter White, chemistry’s fallen saint.
Untitled 1
Now I haunt the glass.
Every television hums my after-heartbeat.
Children feel my presence in the flicker,
mothers hush the screen,
fathers blame bad reception.
But I am there
whispering through late-night horror reels,
wearing the mask of every villain that ever begged applause.
Venus The Milo
Chapter II Broadcast of the Dead
Across twelve quadrants flicker his eyes.
Each channel hums Daniels name.
Children change stations and glimpse him in snow:
a mouth that opens on infinity,
teeth of static, tongue of wire.
He speaks commercials for despair.
The universe buys.
Angel Of Eden Daniel F Staal
- Miss Spock, conscience of logic and purr.
- Daniel FX Staal, dreamer and signal-bearer, whose art dares the boundary between life and broadcast.
-Edgar Allan Poe, Inspiration and Spirit
-Ozzy Osbourne: A Man who Lives Beyond Death
-Jim Morrison: A Light of Fire
Angelofdeath2
I have known the timebombs ticking heart,
the fear that one mad spark could end us all.
Yet Ive seen laughter stop a war
on one bright day, a Klingon dropped his blade
and the universe exhaled.
Black Doors 10 Hell Drome Movie2 Youtube 60Fps 4K
For thirty years these fragments have evolved: poems, films, nightmares, and quiet hopes stitched into one continuum.
From Poems of Star Trek came the seed of idealism that peace is not absence but courage.
From The Miss Spock Chronicles came irony and tenderness logic wrapped in fur, watching humanity glitch.
From Necromancer of the Black Doors came the full metamorphosis art as resurrection, the self rewritten in code and compassion.
Black Doors Crack Hitler
Chapter III Coneheads Hunt
He arms his ship with subpoenas and sawblades.
Justice rerouted through bureaucracy.
Old engines cough dust of forgotten wars.
Conehead declaims: I shall unplug the god of screens!
We follow his signal into black silence,
where satellites drift like drowned saints.
Black Doors Frost Bitten Climax
They stood face to face, in black and white
each the mirror of the others spite.
Two men, one hate, one endless fight,
on a dying world without the light.
Black Doors Horror Masters
V. The Descent Into the Black Pit
After that night
I fell.
Weeks of falling.
A black pit.
A gravity of sorrow.
My life’s work finished,
but my heart hollow.
Black Doors Techno Christ
black as guilt,
black as unanswered questions,
black as the silence after loss.
And behind it
her voice returned.
Soft.
Warm.
So familiar it broke me open:
Black Doors Walter Trueman Faust Wtf
Let red be courage, blue be peace,
yellow laughter that wont cease.
Brown, black, and white the blend of grace,
the endless beauty of the human race.
Black Doors 11 Movie Part 3
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
You might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
Videodromegroupsexbodyhorror
When darkness came, it was not the grave
but the pause between stations.
I learned to breathe through static.
I learned that ghosts are only signals without receivers.
And I learned hunger.
Black Doors 12 Movie Part 4
To keep my sanity,
I let language, imagination,
and stories become the architecture of reason.
And so I speak my truth here,
with the hope that the ending remains a happy one.
Self-harm or self-destruction
is not part of this path.
Not today.
Step In The Black Doors
Chapter I The Silence Before Current
Through corridors of ozone dreams he walks,
strapped in thunders waiting cradle.
The chair hums like a caged nebula.
Justice, stainless, gleams beneath the dust.
I, Miss Spock, observe. Fur immaculate. Logic cracking.
Captain Conehead reads the sentence.
Daniel does not blink.
Black Doors 8 Infinity
I hear you, Jim!
So from 1999 Til this Holy Date...
I started to begin the work of an artist...
in 2013 I had the work to visuelize...
but many years I birthed more then I count...
in 2016 I started to get poetic... Poems sultry, sexy and Filty Jim!
I Lighted the world on fire...
I was Banned on Google for 8 TIMES...
Black Doors 14
Sexbots with emotion cores,
Quantum drives behind closed doors
Not programmed to serve, but feel, react,
And moan in code: alive, intact.
The Mind Is The Black Door
For hours I talk to my logical cat, miss Spock...
she listens close, like she once knew, I know Spock Rocks
that life is short, and love is that
the hardest art to just live through. now comes a reality shock!
The world feels staged, a magic trick,
a coin for dreams, a clock that ticks,
where effort fades and luck plays king,
and truths too shy to spread its wings.
Venus The Milo On Biomechanical Motorcycle People Are Strange Riders On The Storm Sf Intricate 712772056
The Enterprise and Klingon crew,
each seeing red, each seeing through
the fog of rage, the beasts delight,
the parasite that fed on fight.
Venus The Milo On Biomechanical Motorcycle Sf Intricate Artwork Masterpiece Ominous Matte Painti 239451447
She saw it all.
IV. Three in the Morning — A Voice Through the Music
Then came the night.
Three o’clock in the morning—
the hour when the world exhales softly
and the veil between memory and presence
grows thin.
I put on my headphones
Heaven Eden1
So merge ye minds, ye loins, ye grace,
For God is now a coded face.
And heaven's gate? Your favorite stream,
Where love is looped, and flesh redeems.
Heaven Eden4
And I (c) Daniel FX Staal I stand,
a living scar, a trembling hand.
But I am proof, both lost and found,
that heaven hides on broken ground.
Is There In Truth No Beauty? But only Madness to be found...
Heaven Eden5
at the end of my film project—
a saga twenty-eight years in the making,
a world, an ecosystem, a dream.
Two days before she died,
she saw the completed version.
The whole.
The final form.
The living heart of my work.
Clive Barker Hellraiser
Yet, as Clive Barker reminds us:
“There are worlds within worlds,
places where the departed linger
because a single heartbeat remembers them.”
—Clive Barker
Perhaps the line between memory and spirit
is thinner than we admit.
Perhaps love refuses to stay silent.
Bodycount
slid through my bones.
Grief knows how to speak
with the exact voice
of the ones we’ve lost.
Memory knows how to imitate love
with terrifying precision.
Miss Spock, always the logical guardian,
offered explanations:
Generated Venus 01
I meditate before the observation window.
Stars flicker in morse; galaxies pulse in binary lament.
Somewhere within that trembling spectrum,
Daniel recites his gospel to the void.
Generated Venus 02
Chapter I Dust & Destiny
In the hush between star-systems,
where forgotten reruns drift like cosmic dandruff,
a rumor stirs across the void:
The Wheelchair Elder returns.
Generated Venus 03
I have walked through war and wandered loss,
seen friends become ghosts and dreams turn to dust,
heard prophets cry in city streets
and captains preach among the stars.
Generated Venus 04
Miss Spock, the Elder whispers through the comms,
his voice a wheel turning through sand,
forgive him, and the signal will fade.
Condemn him, and it will reign forever.
