There are worlds without suns, demon haunted worlds
plunged in perpetual night. — Isha Upanishad, v.3
Weird worlds pushing the envelope
Beyond conception, without hope.
Here’s a landscape, moon enchanted,
Swoon inducing, demon haunted,
Where life’s the milk and death the cream
Churning the shadow vats of dream.
You see in Rorschach clouded skies
Some long lost lover’s darklashed eyes:
And when the veils of evening fall
You see her long legs creepycrawl
Like amorous spiders up the wall.
And passing down a haunted street
You hear the metronomic beat
Of her panther padded feet.
Then by the river you contrive
With magic mushrooms to revive
This dead love from some former life.
And down the stream a jetblack swan
Now brings your sweetheart all aswoon
To you, on the ghostly river’s rim.
And here two slugs of leman swim,
Fat imps of Satan lost to sun
Where the wailing waters run.
And suddenly your hand’s a cup—
You bend and scoop one slimeball up
And like an idiot blink your eyes
At the beastie in surprise,
Trying your best to understand
Why this hellseed’s in your hand—
This horrorblob with bubblefroth
Around its screaming monster mouth.
“Your love,” it shrieks, “is dead and gone
Because of what you have just done!
You’ve lost the moon, you’ve lost the sun!
You’ve lost the plot, you’ve lost the lot—
And the devil and I have won!”