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Authors: Skawt Chonzz

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R'lyeh Sutra

BOOK: R'lyeh Sutra
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Martian Migraine Press

electronic edition 2012


© 2012 Scott Raymond Jones

All Copyrights held by Scott Raymond Jones

All poems and artwork contained in this electronic edition originally appeared in a limited run chapbook by Scott Raymond Jones (writing as “skawt chonzz”): R’lyeh Sutra (2011)

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author or Martian Migraine Press, except brief passages for purposes of review.

skawt chonzz / 1972 -

R’lyeh Sutra / skawt chonzz




47° 9’ S 126° 43’ W 4EVA






Y’HA-NTHLEI-KUS (haiku from Below)

plate / DAGON (Gargouille de la Mer)







The drowned hyper-opolis of R’lyeh, vast and terrible, beyond rational understanding, boiling with fractal connectivity and vibrating on every level of so-called Reality (
, if we’re to be painfully honest, and we are, always), its non-Euclidean architecture an assault on lower-order mammalian perception, its migraine towers and impossible arches and obsidian middens awash in the febrile submarine light that characterizes the depths of the Unconscious.

R’lyeh! The first city, the dreaming city, the mad city of unspoken terrors and fevered ecstasies. R’lyeh! The infinite suburbs of existential mirror-muck, sprawling slums constructed of discarded, croaking anti-languages, laced over with living circuitry telepathically transmitting a constant insect-chitter stream of flash-cut reverse-universe pornography. R’lyeh! Suppurating districts of unspeakable shopping malls that give ferocious new meaning to consumption and thumping hyperdimensional everlasting-night clubs, every bouncer a shoggoth, every dancer a coruscating chaos of perversion and alien sensuality. R’lyeh! Mausoleum and corpse-throne capital city of Great Cthulhu, Lord of Dreams, High Priest of All That Is Not, of the Forgotten Ones and Those Who Whisper Behind the Light. Cthulhu, who is dead but dreaming.

R’lyeh. My home.

Upon my death, drop my cold flesh at these coordinates -- 47° 9’ S 126° 43’ W -- and let me sink through green leagues to that place where thought is obliterated, where form is plastic, where dreams are solid and unyielding as stone. There will I wait, in that lair of the untranslatable, for the return of the Great Old Ones and the remaking of the world in fire and in ice. I will rise with R’lyeh when the stars come right.

The shamans who work their primal magics in the Bon-po tradition of Tibetan Buddhism undergo what they call the
ritual, in which the body is brutally dismembered by wrathful demons. In this way they learn to not identify with the physical, to transcend the limitations of the material. From this, and from our own wracked imagination-factories, we can infer that there is enlightenment in horror, and in the extremes of fear may be found a moment of pure, one-pointed awareness. That awe-full clarity.

This is the Black Gnosis: when all is madness, there is no madness.

This is the R’lyeh Sutra.

skawt chonzz

Hour of the Spastic Mandala

Threshold 616 – Western Lands Border Checkpoint

Victoria, British Columbia

March 2011


fever dreams of impossible couplings

and the frictioned frisson

that arises with fear

of dissolution in desire

the body soul spirit or whatever this is

we can say fuck it

fuck it eternally

and with preternatural gusto

render our organs into paste

our zones radioactive

we discard this imagined duality

and screw to the sound

of recombinant DNA


that buzzsaw serenade

herald of molecular consciousness singing

do you want me?

do you want me baby?

the ancestral pools from which

we crawled a million kalpas past

quake in their hot granite beds

our climax fractal on every coiled level

a migraine pleasure mutating the constellations

before our black pulsing Hiroshima eyes

we fuck til the stars come right

fuck til the stars come
the stars right
are fucked


(so come)

welcome them

the Old Ones all

they and the little stars

of scar tissue like a thousand

eager mouths upon your skin singing

do you want me? do you want me baby?

these scorched phallic dimensions?

these smoke-filled bowers?

these ember eyes?

this mad whispered arson?

everything burns

in the fires of Time

we are no exception

and the things Man was not meant to know

are written in our mingled fluid code

our boiling kalas in the red crucible

we the rough beast howling lust

at our mutual clawed consummation

lapping at the bright blood

of murdered suns

between our



Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate, whereby the spheres meet(1) ... his Globes be (seven) in number, have diverse names ... forms ... they are the powers of the parasite-horde ... his servitors and do his bidding in the world ... and then he will come to you and bring his Globes and he will give true answer to all you desire to know(2).

1H P Lovecraft, The Dunwich Horror

2Wilson / Hay The Book of Dead Names

>> globe.01 / GOMORY / golden crowned camel
/ knowledge of magical talismans

>> in her hands she brought me onyx jade silver

colours of a north pacific winter

socked in with cedar and damp

we waited like stones

a knotted black cord round her left wrist

promise of laboured breathing in dark humid corners

>> globe.02 / ZAGAN / great bull &/or terrible King
/ mysteries of the sea

>> croaking allegiances with the landotter people

servile phantom intelligences languishing

in ghost-houses under the waves

half-tales round the fire

built of dream fragments and shell casings

recall that incest has always been the privilege of royalty

>> globe.03 / SYTRY / demon Prince (60 legions)
/ knowledge of times to come

>> radios squawking unkind things in the twilight

tungsten revelations suspended in glass

all our molecules agitated

by high-energy attack`

dancing the twitch the spastic the tremens

velocity of sparrows and the tragic hive collapse

>> globe.04 / ELIGOR / red man with iron crown
/ victory in war

>> we launch glowing feral ordinance into the singularity

gamma ray protests against our own weakness

BOOK: R'lyeh Sutra
9.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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