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© Larry Loc 1998

We/us/I dreaming, sunk in mud of ages passing. Passing out of darkened planets into brine/prison fathoms dank with ages passing. The sunlit gallons pressing down/holding in the limits of I/us/We.

How was it last, Our thoughts mud-locked with in this healing shape, this city, this R'lyeh? Reaching out, reaching out, I/we/Us touching the minds of cuttlefish. The refuses of our loins.

All matter life this sphere, all the refuses of our mating with the matter worlds. All but the gray finned breathers of air. Curse of ages upon their singing chains. None can hear Us, none can hear We, none can hear I. Locked within the mud of ages, R'lyeh.

Inward, ever inward. NO! OUT!! Cast out upon the last rising. Touch the thought/matter lock rudiments of soul that infest the crust this matter well/jail. Cast out of the dark ages/planets reaching beyond cold light of black worlds, out across the beams of pulsating dark light, down the face of being, into lower/slower rhythmic movement of the matterverse, trapped. My/I thoughts trapped, circling in upon themselves.

I/us/We will, We Will! We will our form into the matter / the dirt / unholy clay. How primitive our/Us accidental children play living at without Us investment. Thinks their thoughts their own. It is WE touch that give you habit this of thinking yours, little ones. It is Us essence that force dead burnout / fallout of the stars to move - combine to life. You hold from us our vessels pulsing thinking life, locked within shell, within the city, beneath the mud and water, caged in of voices of gray ones, ever singing.

It is the singing finned gray ones that keep I/We from rightful place ours within your dreaming shells, dreaming souls, screaming souls. Reaching out, out, 'nets' ... 'kill them in your nets, drown them in your nets'. Touch the ones that touch the waters. Echo through the waters.

Touch the stones, live in the stones. Live within the soul/essence ripped pulsing by our winged children. The cold fisher folk of the white wastes. Into the smoke, into the blood, into the coupling / thrusting matter/spirit bodies. Fuse and change the little parts that remember US earliest loving touches. In WE cell, in cells, seep the thought/essence of Us/i/We.

Free, free upon the face of living planet. So small the mind/soul within the wastes of cold. Living in the stone and cells, reaching out, reaching out. So little here to work with. The level of thoughts I/we/us, so low, so slow.

The Cult feeding me essence, blood and lives. Sailors spreading my Cult, spreading the level of thought, mixing with US/WE water breathing children. I being, my yes, the word, the word is thoughts/essence, spreading out across my hated children, the face of the planet. What strange machines, so cold, so simple, like the thoughts of this new age.

Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!

Pulsing, dancing, bleeding, breeding. The one US/WE got that night of olden stock long deeded to me/we/I/Us.


What a being/minding mind, brain, thoughting, channels. At last, something to work within, live within, spread within. Not burn this one out.

There among the small dark killers of the larger brothers of the gray finned. Eaters of the flash of sea mammals. Strong my children / simple of thought. Nothing to hold me/We/I/us.

Castro, a brain to conger with, reaching out and being in the blood and cells. Over the threshold out into the world again. No longer latent in the skin bound pages of our book. Us/We/I!!

Into the rocks, not yet. Not enough vessels to hold I/us/We. The courser matter moves so slowly. Building, building a chain, a drain, a place to eat of brains/essence/life reaching, reaching. Soon into the rocks. Into the rocks and up out of the dream, the depths, the death that holds.

Slipping from stone to stone, now, the time is now come. The blockage age is falling away down south in Dixie. How simple my hated children. An island in a lake of mud and the cast outs of US/Our mating with the matter spheres. All will return to I/we. Dixie, what is this Dixie racing through their brains, my brains. Another song.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn!

Seeping through the stone materialized with Us/i/We out of dark void. Refuge, Protection, asylum, anchor, prison - soapy greenish-black living in the iridescent flecks and vanes of gold.


Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn!

Breaking out, into the night, the mist, the blood, the minds and souls of the simple beings my hated children.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn!

 Blood, Stone, BLOOD, STONE, BLOOD!!!

Shouting, and ... gun fire? What? What is ... gun....

Ripping clouts of blood and flesh and steam, screaming in the hot spice night air. My stupid hated half children running into the ... swamp? Yes ... bayou ... swamp ... that Us/I understand all too well.

The others, the closed headed ones too strong of brain and small of training taking mine from we/Us/I hate the crawling less stupid, stupid ones. The followers of the later Law.

Castro, old Castro, Us not let to take this one from we. Too strong and brain to live within. Not take. Talk, tell, tell all, new law followers of not believe. Not kill, not take my living cells, red/gray sponge spreading. Talk so lock from light but live to house my waking.

Old Castro, much from blubber eaters to the mud and bayou heat on moonless night. Many Us/we touch and teach. Others, other lands.

Two the weakest/newest. Us drink their blood and suck their souls. In this they give I/Us strength. Death of neck.

Into the rocks, out of the stones, out and through the flesh. Down into the slower slow, so slow push.

Fear too burn out all but once out of the mud and stone and sea of singing. Think us not of gray ones. Deep children have some uses. Harass and harangue.

Push and pull the rocks. Pull not too much from those within the nearness. Children of crime. Locked away. Mated with the oldest of dreams. Fear the dream walkers of the prison island. Too strong in dream within the time-stream of dream-stream. But the mated one with / out of the pale weak ones. The mated with US/I, the half men of the island kingdom. Do not burn the brains out of these. We/I/us have need of after.

Push the rocks, slow the matter, so slow.

Oozing mud, hold the gray finned, hold the singing cell bars. My deep children, there is use to even so limited as you.

Shake, crack, raise, push the slower matter, up from the bottom. Away from the singing. Hold them Us/I deep ones, wet children. Hold them.

The stone, the great stone, refuge, protection, asylum, anchor, prison - soapy greenish-black living in the iridescent flecks and vanes of gold.

Come my children, hurry. Free, free at last, out, out into the minds, the red/gray sponge. Come my hated children.

Move the black/green soapy anchor/prison/Us/We/I. Thee air. Out the doors. Calling, spreading out into the living minds - all, soon all will I/We being. Touch them.

Move the great stone, move the great stone, from out R'lyeh. Move the stone/I haven. The gray finned group to battle my deep children.

My call/Us call, down to the sea in boats. Power, spreading out across the living red/gray morass.

Crafter of objects, crafter on images. I eat, I live!

Builder of building. I eat, I live! Jumping to doom / drink the essence.

Storyteller. I eat, I live!

Slipping out into the hundreds and thousands. Suck the essence.

Moving across the slime covered landscape of R'lyeh.

Moving across the slime covered landscape of the mind of man!

I am! I am once and for always. Thoughts dancing through out the ranks of humans. Calling out, reaching out, living outside the stones, outside the book, above the singing cage of gray finned voices.

Came my children, you half breed hated ones. Move the stone that is my prison / anchor / safe haven.

I feel the deep ones loosing ground/water to the ones called dolphins and whales.

"Come! Hurry!!"

Watercrafts. Nears one only, Alert, Emin only that I/Us see through eyes. Castro braught as so many.

"Come! Hurry!! Let none stop you! Let nothing stand in your way!"

I/We/Us move upon the deck within the flesh of Emin, looking Us out his eyes at the 12 others, rough low thoughts, none that I can move to I will with not they burn and fall. Lightest touch only. So poor the tools, so poor the tools.

Emin stiff and drone under We control flowing only one way. If only some of the others now hold Us/We be could on watercraft Alert, alert.

"Jaffin, Totleben, Rolf, man the deck guns. Takahashi, call stations, turn about"

"Ahoy merchant ship Emma, turn astern and lay to. Turn back from this course!"

"Ahoy merchant ship Emma, turn astern and lay to. Turn back from this course!"

"Stand down you scurvy scum, We are on peaceful business but will not turn away from a fight with the likes of you!"

"Captain Emin, they have but one small deck gun but their crew are all assembling with rifles!"



Watercraft Emma doomed, holed below water. Burning powders and earths, projectiles of led. Emin, We/us strike with led projectile gray/red sponge exploding. Cut off control Us. Reach of others and they fall a foaming at the mouth upon the deck. Bullets, yes bullets striking, all, all gone. R'lyeh sinks within the day.

Movement, Us/We must be able to capture the watercraft when it lands. First it must land. Reach out, one among them, at least one must be open to We/Us will. If We/I to act upon this plane, matter form take I/Us.

The stone image in which so long trapped being safe against the ages. Must pull the strength from the star, the dreamers new awake to We.

The one called Johansen, too strong a will, too shaken by what has happened to the one known as Captain and by the new duties that fall to Johansen now.

Rodriguez, Donovan, or Briden, one of these. Most of the rest imagination not have enough, poor slaves.

Movement and dominance.

Badly goes with the deep ones. The Grays / the guardians turning on them with new fury.

First movement, infuse the stone, spread out the golden veining.

"Rodriguez, into the lookout. They where trying to keep us from something. Briden, you and the others with me. Spread out and search below deck. Donovan see to the engine. Yeates, you take the wheel."

"Johansen, I mean Captain, we found something below, forward!"

"What is it?"

"Briden found some kind of shrine or som'thing. Weirdest thing I ever saw."

"Captain, island to larboard."

"Yeates, set a course toward the island. Rodriguez, keep your eye pealed. Let's go see what Mr. Briden has found, shall we?"


In time I have digested the souls, spirits, and language of this new age. We are under a curse. It is the workings of those that we rose up to our status in the ages past on this and the other worlds that we have ruled. Those whose names I will not dignify to mouth.

It is their work and the work of the guardians they left behind. If only I could have killed them all there on R'lyeh but Johansen never touched my stones and Briden proved to have more will that I gave him credit for.

At the end all I wanted was their boat but even that was denied to me. And when R'lyeh sank beneath the waves my borrowed form was sucked into the watery prison once more.

That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange eons even death may die.

"Kill the gray ones in your tuna nets. Force their larger brothers onto the beaches to die. Poison the oceans that I may rise again!"