Astrophobos
The all-seeing, reality warping Locked outside the universe Sight and knowledge Of space and time The mass of glowing orbs The lurker at the threshold Nug! Yaboo! Yeb! Tsathoggua! Gravitons Passing through Yog-Sothoth The Nameless Mist and Darkness The Nameless Mist is Yog-Sothoth Darkness may be a representation matter And Shub-Niggurath may be a portion of The matter that passed through Yog-Sothoth into our space-time And the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
Azathoth, the slumbering, sightless prince of daemons, who dwells dreaming in the center of rippling chaos beyond the ordered universe in a palace whose dimensions defy all conceivable geometries, and whose malicious idiocy birthed the world, thinks you’re garbage Out in the mindless void the daemon bore me, Past the bright clusters of dimensioned space, Till neither time nor matter stretched before me, But only chaos, without form or place Here the vast lord of all in darkness muttered things he had dreamed but could not understand, while near him shapeless bat-things flopped and fluttered in idiot vortices that ray-streams fanned Outside the ordered universe is that amorphous blight of Nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity whence flow the aimless waves whose chance combining gives each frail cosmos its eternal law Whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of cursed flutes They danced insanely to the high clutched in a monstrous paw “I am his messenger,” the daemon said, as in contempt he struck his master’s head Azathoth! Azathoth! Azathoth! The boundless daemon prince Yog-Sothoth! Yog-Sothoth! Yog-Sothoth! The being, a congeries of iridescent spheres
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
In the midnight heavens burning Thro’ ethereal deeps afar, Once I watch’d with restless yearning An alluring, aureate star; Ev’ry eye aloft returning, Gleaming nigh the Arctic car. Mystic waves of beauty blended With the gorgeous golden rays; Phantasies of bliss descended In a myrrh’d Elysian haze; And in lyre-born chords extended Harmonies of Lydian lays. There (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure, Where the free and blessed dwell, And each moment bears a treasure Freighted with a lotus-spell, And there floats a liquid measure From the lute of Israfel. There (I told myself) were shining Worlds of happiness unknown, Peace and Innocence entwining By the Crowned Virtue’s throne; Men of light, their thoughts refining Purer, fairer, than our own. Thus I mus’d, when o’er the vision Crept a red delirious change; Hope dissolving to derision, Beauty to distortion strange; Hymnic chords in weird collision, Spectral sights in endless range. Crimson burn’d the star of sadness As behind the beams I peer’d; All was woe that seem’d but gladness Ere my gaze with truth was sear’d; Cacodaemons, mir’d with madness, Thro’ the fever’d flick’ring leer’d. Now I know the fiendish fable That the golden glitter bore; Now I shun the spangled sable That I watch’d and lov’d before; But the horror, set and stable, Haunts my soul for evermore.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026