The movement of mind 
leaping from darkness
finds many shades to light. 
...
Then with the songs
which realities sing as they 
brush each other 
in the web of the eternal tree. 
...
Fragments of a book 
laying untouched on a open altar
surrounded by geometric stones
carved in hypergeometric hieroglyphs.
...
And where the border of "Real"
fades, a few lonely farmsteads
hold on. Faded worn with centuries 
painted with hexes and pictoglyphs
older than mammalian history. 
...
A billion shades of gray 
blurring with every reality branch 
separating away, moving further
into eternity's ultimate joke.
...
Crickets, in disconsonant harmony
whisper of the answer
to a jape spoken when 
the light of the Big Bang 
filled everywhere. Before 
the first gods of this creation woke
from their infinite dream.
...
Assonant disharmonics 
which flow through spheres
bordering the throne
where the blind idiot dances 
waiting the heavens to align.
...
Cosmic blasphemy reigns
in all the worlds near 
the infinite shades of midnight. 
Which linear life
calls its own, those places nearest 
animate nuclear chaos
and they howl down corridors of time. 
... 
The acerebral deity 
who twitching to flutes 
drawn from non-Euclidean geometry's, 
dreams of times to be when he 
is supreme. And the universes tumble
through his nuclear chaotic obesity.
...
Fleeing the sounds of those harps 
being strummed, by jewel bedecked women 
dancing to their music of the moon. 
In mad gyrations, 
with sweat being slung, (glistening
in the dark of His throne room)
adding sex to the mingling scents. 
Voices ruff
from speaking chants in a insectal tongue, 
which died before our small sun 
was born.
...
From the non-Euclidean linearity
the clicking of their claws resounds;
and they howl across eons, following 
the time scent
left by incautious travelers.
Following along
hypergeometric curves
of protoplasmic life Yog-Sothoth,
who steps through 
hurricanes of paradox unscathed.
...
And the hounds bay 
in harmony with those flutes
being played
at the center
of the universe beyond space-time.
...
From fever altered ears I hear their calls
across the lines of time. 
And I see the shades of creatures 
who live along the edges 
of our continuum; waiting 
for humanity 
to play with the fire of its own mind. 
Then they'll come hoping to catch 
the explorers of consciousness off guard.
...
At this distance the sounds of the flutes 
come softly at first 
lending an almost gentle harmony to them.
And the linearity of the hounds 
seems strong enough protection 
from the blasphemy of the beginning.
...
The twisted shapes of colors
lifting themselves from the depths of midnight
and following the tormented rainbow 
through the infinite universes which 
cast their shadows of space-time 
along worldlines of obscure probability.
shifting the song of hydrogen 
by a bit of an attometer or two.
Here the songs coming through the doorways 
in the sand of shifting futures
deified mortalities
reflected in a trillion broken mirrors 
littering the shores 
of clotted seas. 
...
And the Blind Idiot 
living nuclear chaos 
who sits dancing at his throne perched on the 
center of eternity
waiting for the aligning of all the universes 
so that he may regain his mind; and blast his 
way out of  the throne room and 
retake the lordship of all eternity 
from his former masters the Elder Gods.
...
Who sit dreaming at the Dog star
waiting for the time when 
the spells of binding must get renewed.
...
Of the corners where the dust gathers
and the scurrying creatures dash 
avoiding those flutists and the Lord 
at his throne. Who in an acerebral ecstasy 
leashes out at these morsels 
with his psuedopod’s of nuclear chaos.
From which he grows just a fraction larger
each life-force taken bringing him closer 
to his birthing size (all of the universe).
...
Shadows of life 
from the curves of protoplasmic time
where the hounds 
howl unable to grasp 
in their talons these feasts 
until they've evolved enough
to find the grimoirs of the elder 
more linear eternities 
when Earth was yet a molten ball 
half hidden within 
a proto-stellar nebula.
...
And the foundations of the temple
at Leng were being laid by the Mi-Go,
and the Flame Vampires 
brought each sculpted stone 
from a quarry on a dim lit world 
a dozen light-years away.
Dead now aeons.
...
That strange place where the triple dawn 
leaves oddly hued shadows 
thrice each thousand years. 
And the Hell hounds howl across 
the edges of linear eternities 
listening to the songs of animate energies 
surrounding carved blocks of  magical stone. 
...
The temple slowly took shape 
during the billion year rain. 
They planted the first ferns to bloom 
under those early black clouds, 
and gave a phosphorescent light 
too the ebony sky, which had until then 
only seen the reflections of 
volcano's and lightning and meteor's 
whose glows lasted 
briefly an aeon.
...
Each one danced a thousand years
around the growing of the black basalt temple. 
Around its lowest ramparts 
the first ocean sang the song of life 
to a child Earth. 
And the priests who placed the last stones
joined in the molding 
of creatures 
which in aeons to come 
would have the strength 
to battle the hounds of time
and the hideous Dholes 
who'd destroyed their worlds. 
...
The protectors of humanity.
Living in the borderland of 
humanities delirium 
waiting for the turning
of the stars into the set pattern 
which weakens the barriers of worlds. 
Under the strange cold suns 
of dream, hiding 
among the curves of infinity
where the hounds of Hell 
may not invade nor travel. 
...
Children of animate energies 
dance among the non-Euclidean pillars 
and the doorways of  a trillion worlds.
...
Here in corridors dim with many hued shadows.
Where each step stretches 
the length of Aleph points, 
and the shadows thicken with every step 
until 
you've barely noticed 
and the end of the corridor comes into sight
with the sound of mad flutists dancing
comes faintly many universes away. 
Pulling to the feast 
the unsuspecting child
of non-linear realities. 
...
The Idiot God twitching on his throne 
not knowing incapable of caring 
in any sense understandable;
lashes out 
with nuclear psuedopod’s
at the foolish creatures who stumble 
through the doorways 
of infinity 
controlled by the Other Gods 
fluting songs 
of disharmony 
and sensuality.
...
Longer than the comets tail 
His strides devour the light-centuries 
that are his throne room. 

		By: David E. Howerton
		©[11/03/1995]
	

Email: David Howerton