And I listened with formless deaf ears, and I heard all the cries of pain and horror that have ever been gasped and shrieked, I heard all the gnashing of teeth that have ever been drawn across one another, and I heard all the wailing and sobbing that was ever wailed out from the miserable wretches, and I was indifferent.

And I looked with my blind eyes and I saw all those who have ever died or will ever die, and their death writhing was as insensate colors to me, their miserable tales of suffering were as the wind in clouds to me. I saw and I was indifferent.

And I spoke words that redounded upon the universal walls. And the cosmos shook with rage and horror and anguish with the words that I had uttered. Whole planets were instantly destroyed. Galaxies spun and wheeled past me, devoid of life forever shattered and ruined. But I did not comprehend the words. And I was indifferent to the suffering I had caused.

And I reached out with my formless hand and I felt the suffering genitals of every raped bitch and every shamed man that has ever been or ever will be. And the heat of my body desecrated their forms, their genitals melting away. And I felt their mutilated genitals splay across their writhing tormented bodies. And I felt with my hand the primal slime of their degenerated genitals. And I was indifferent to the suffering I had caused.

And at last as the cup of my wisdom finally poured forth the last drops of itself into the nefandus void of space, I knew, as men know that they are men, as planets know that they are planets. As stars know that they must shine, that I was God.

Indifference is Godhood.

And in my blindness I watched in wondrous non-comprehension as stars, planets, and galaxies wheeled past me through the tenebre mare profundus. They wheeled and spun past me in a great and flaming dance, each step different than the last and the first. Planets collided against planets, stars exploded, the waves of indifferent entropy burned through space in the very bleakest of forms.

And in my deafness I heard the ringing of 100 octillion septillion sextillion hectillion quintillion trillion billion million sanity blasting atomic reactions, the waves of fire from these explosions uncounted decimated the lives of 777,000,000,000,000 people. I heard their death groan as their forms were wiped away in a single wave of soundless death, leaving only charred powder and mutilated landscapes in their wake, in the very bleakest of space-time catastrophe.

And I reached out with my formless hands and felt as sparks of light and darkness the random formation of 122,122,122,122,122 dancing demons, the sweat of their bodies like odor of sex as their bodies danced a single step and disappeared, they were crowded all around me but they did not understand me, nor I them. I felt their sweating, writhing bodies as their forms randomly dissolved back into the primal slime of their beings, in the very bleakest of biological disarray.

And with wordless speech I breathed out my life essence into the freezing fires of anti-existence that surrounded me, the words I did not comprehend, and there was no communication twixt us. But I was indifferent to that. Like swirling patterns of sound the colors danced to my wordless speaking in toneless voiceless aeons long non-comprehension, in the very bleakest of space less timeless wisdom.

And in the midst of this reeling mindless chaos I felt those who are beyond the threshold come to me, traveling without moving. And they put a crown on my formless brow, forged from the remains of a decatillion dead stellar cores, and a scepter of form into my formless hand, star-forged in the heat of the cosmic furnace where matter and anti-matter crash into each other in a mindless nefandus dance.

And I spent 100,000,000x pwr - 250,000,000 decatillion centuries in the mindless space less timeless void. The pure empty anti-existence wheeled about me, the universe outside spiraling into entropy and disorder, but I was indifferent to that. And I knew without knowing that I was the Void enthroned.

Indifference is Godhood.

And I was seated on my throne, amidst the great danse maleficarum, the mesmerizing, chaotic danse maleficarum, like a king amongst madmen, their writhing primal bodies before my blind eyes were as insensate flesh, quivering and mindless. The crown grew heavy on my head and the scepter of my authority acted of its own desires, sleeping reason murdered viciously with the brutal fires of insensate lust.

I nodded, nodded, nodded, and fell into a great sleep; my reasonless slumbering brain dreamed a great and glorious dream of the forges of strife. Like a vast ship of the line, sailing through the spaces between. He who makes the stars churn and planets boil, I heard through the dim echoes of the swirling entropy of the black hole. And I felt the vast solar winds, as I sailed on my dream ship, insufferably cold they were, those winds that powered the vast psychic sails of my dream ship.

And on the waves of space/time I sailed from out the void, beyond the burning graves of a trillion stars, beyond the vast wastes of cold emptiness where dead, barren planets roll without axis or aim, past the silent anarchy of lawless aeons, on churning seas of overboiling radioactivity I was born away from my throne in dreaming. In the quietude of the inner universe I passed through the great aberrant mystery, called 'sentience'.

I passed a barren planet populated by a vast sea of primal sludge, mindless and memberless this slime was, but it lived and boiled, bubbling and sloughing across vast oceans of malformed, dead earth. Thence I passed a planet of great flaming mountains, where thunderous lizards, huge and terrible, strode about in a vast combative dance of survival. My passing withdrew life from that age, a great bolt of flaming rock utterly pulverizing all that was, leaving only dusty remains and quietude.

I sailed on, for a million million million years, the listing, turning ship of my dreams bore me down aeons long rivers of space and time, on overboiling mystical fires of poison I was borne. I saw in the space of the blink of an eye, from a naked ape he came, this great monster and miracle, mankind. I passed over his vast epoch of martial suffering and technological triumph, but I was indifferent to that. They whispered a name my deaf ears couldn't hear, though I saw the vast vibrations and frequencies of the name that I know naught of.

I awoke, the great danse maleficarum continuing unabated, my blind eyes and senseless mind knew nothing and saw nothing. And the scepter of my form shuddered, the whole of the universe shaking and shuddering as the veils of reality were torn away. Instantly destroyed, the minds and souls of 375,574,783,563,648,904,578,745,675,437,329,212 intelligences became mindless mad demon gods. They writhed and jiggled and shuddered and twisted in the great danse malificarum, the veils of sanity and knowledge torn away to reveal my existence finally, at the end of the universe. They writhed and shuddered and jiggled and twisted, mumbling mindless phrases in voiceless telepathy, and I knew nothing. The reasonless madness of the danse malificarum continued on, and on, and on. And I? I, a prince among the mindless mad demon gods of all days and times, I existed.

POEM EXCLUSIVELY COPYRIGHT ME. NO REPRINTING IS ALLOWED. REPRINTING IN PART OR IN WHOLE WILL RESULT IN COPYRIGHT VIOLATION. I DO NOT NOW OR EVER GIVE PERMISSION TO REPRINT THIS POEM IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. PERIOD. However, if you -request- permission to reprint it and I okay it, its -not- a copyright violation.

lively reading, void, very befitting of you, more prose than poetry, though

I was going to put it into a prose section, but I didn't see one.

doesn't really matter to me, ill read it anywhere

i really don't know what to say, or make of that....so um....

thats because you are stupid and ugly senor 6...jk, i luv u

Thats not really a problem, Six. I don't expect everyone to have something to say. Saying 'I don't know what to say' is an acceptible response, you know.

you sad cause you're stupid and ugly or cause i luv u?

yea...I really like that...



*loves chad*

hmm well welcome to df. that was good, very scientific and mathematical. it was long, too long, start to get glazed eyes about half way through. but had some interesting points to it. like all the damage people can do without ever knowing it. way cool themes in it.

i like to be loved!

see....yay!!!! me loved!!!!! yeeeeeeeee

yep

While I can't dispute your imputation of the dangerous of carelessness and apathy, White Lilly, that was not actually what the poem was about. It was, when I first started writing it, meant to be a picture of the universe from the Purposeless and blind indifference as well as the meaningless mechanistic existance/view point of Azathoth, the Daemon Sultan. But later on I changed it to be merely an expression of the philosophical principles Azathoth represents. However since Azathoth means different things to different people (ask any Occultist or psychologist) I will leave it at that.

ope, ope, ope......RULE NUMBER ONE of being a serious writer is never, under any circumstances, tell what your story/poem is about.....one of the greatest gifts literature offers is the writer/reader response.....same story, different idea.....what readers read, is what readers read.....never tell the reader what they should read.....it can belittle the reader, and quite frankly, ruins the work....

I didn't. I just gave the reader the knowledge of who the 'I' was supposed to be. I didn't tell them anything about the philosophical meanings or the occult meanings or even the cosmological meanings of it.

don't even do that....if itz not in the work, then shhh

but just to clarify, this is what i thought of this

that, as you state "Azathoth means different things to different people," then this piece is your interepretation of how you percieve Azathoth......which, from the "purposeless and blind indifference" of Azathoth and his perception, is thereby your perception and interpretation of your work.....

i don't mean to sound like a tart, but thatz just my two cents

exactly what Chad said - something I was taught 3 years in a row by my english teacher was that you never tell anyone what your story or poem or prose or whatever is "really" about - keeps it more interesting when the person has to think and interpret it. I know my class would always joke how we interpret a poem to mean something and our teacher would be like "no...it means this" grand times - but again, dont ever mention anything that may even slightly give hints into how you meant the piece to be interpreted - if you wrote it well, it should all be there...