Paradisial greetings, my brothers and sisters. How goes your path? Not quite as hospitable as you assumed it would be? Never mind all that. Ipsissimus Satanis will make it all better. I present the Qlippothic-Enochian cipher which the lesser gods forbade.
I meditated via astral projection and night striding so as to intentionally cross paths with Abdul Alhazred, long dead disciple of the Old Ones; Kenneth Grant, who has recently passed; and Simon (of Necronomicon fame) who shall soon be no more. In my conversation with their energy signatures our words became wild and twisted; voices became whispered croaking as if we spoke by way of demon frog. Alhazred, Grant, and Simon passed what inspiration they had into these sacred ramblings which you will be reading in a moment, after this brief introduction. However, since I was required to take dictation primarily by way of numbers, colors, and certain fragrances there are a few sections which may or may not have been the exact words of those energies. Plus, they occasionally talked all at once.
Why publish this initiatory section here and now before Necronomicon Satanis is unleashed upon the world in completed form? I shall swiftly relate to you my troubles. Unfortunately, the first section or gate of this manifesto leaked out through a hole in my ritual chamber’s astral integrity shield as star slime oozes from unfathomably ancient nebulae. The Alhazred/Grant/Simon vision-lore dripped onto Madam Blavatsky’s favorite rug, permanently staining the occult landscape with its very own particular shade of invariably, as well as, only sometimes red, red cherry Kool-aid. The upshot is that anyone could scry the first gate of Necronomicon Satanis if they but knew the intersection of planes. To them I say, “Just go ahead and try it, hoss.”
<<< GATE ONE >>>
With the scent of decaying fish I dismiss you into the night, my joyful brethren. Nylvor!
Before your unworthy sight, behold, the Portal of Deeper Slumber, as well as, those Higher Forces between dimensional rifts hitherto unbeknownst to occultism. Red rover, green rover… let Ipsissimus Venger As’Nas Satanis come over your voluptuous curves as an incubus from R’lyeh. For he is the prophet of such an aeon! Sex magic is a key principle to activating the inverse masks, bodies, names, or shells which dwell in our primal underlying and underused consciousness. Don’t be a squeamish pansy nor a sanctimonious ingrate, lest the deciphering of Gate One offend thee.
This unwholesome fragment reveals the conspiracy paraded around like the severed head of a temple knight. We cannot end the horror until we become the horror. Our roots are firmly planted near the color out of space. We are the unnaturally large, tasteless vegetation attempting to poison mother earth herself as the lesser gods suckle at her breast.
Do not be fooled by the agents of this conspiracy. No, be fooled by shadowy lunatics instead – those madmen who dance the goat’s dance! Such fools know precisely where the Old Ones broke through millennia ago… in states of sublime ecstasy. The Mauve Zone beckons to thee, prisoner of oblique references. That which is below shall never be above unless a sideways leap is calculated. Slimy gateways. Now is the hour of gaping vaginal transcendence. Connect the God damn dots!
I warn you humanity, do not force me to bend your will, control your mind, and explode your head. I prefer man to submit only to himself. This is true self-submission. Allah can suck my balls. The sleepers cannot Awaken until they realize it’s naptime 24/7 which is enforced by demiurgic assholes. You are food for the lesser gods of the earth. The ones who give commandments rather than guidelines.
The Cult of Cthulhu was created to continue man’s journey, bypassing our use as cattle in favor of evolution to beings of pure consciousness. Meanwhile the Temple of Set should join forces with the Esoteric Order of Dagon in order to infiltrate the Order of the Nine Angles. At this time, Modern Satanism will reveal itself as a self-fulfilling prophecy of douche-baggery. Keep a watchful eye upon the King Ego Beast.
Individuals should not be devoured… ok, maybe their physical bodies could be consumed in a cannibalistic orgy but not the soul! That is sacrosanct. The Ancient Ones can show us how to create that soul from the malnourished seed which we’re born with. Wouldn’t you like to see your soul seed grow into a soul tree then pick your own soul fruit during Azathoth’s harvest? Of course you would.
I am but a fragment of broken mirror from the emerald mind of God. His singular facet might become or enhance my self-observations. With this knowledge I drink of the past, present, and future… the greatest of these being the present moment. Reactivate dormant faculties by vaginal secretions of the scarlet priestess. The will of power cannot be shut down, nor cleft, nor rigid in the face of anomalous adversity – perfect will must squirm in recognition of its own usefulness and rare abilities. Recreate the third eye. It feels like naked cheese. Sculpt Dagon’s torso.
That which is poetically confused and confusing shall exhaust the rational mind. Fatigue of our logic sensors allow the universal reprogramming to begin in earnest. Order creates chaos which leads to a new, triumphant, bilious green order. He that is genius of what is below shall be above common man and when the stars drip down from the void he shall appear outside the bountiful stream. Shining blood, radiant from its divine lineage, your emissaries speak of esoteric bloodshed.
One extreme bleeds into the other, its polar opposite wherein the third pole is silent and super-naturally influential. The trichotomy explains the madness falling from the Old Ones’ lips, as well as, their gilded crystalline tentacles.
Cosmic sorcery! Blood spilled by Occam’s razor upon my throat. The doctrine of Sogguth shall not be denied beside the tall black towers of Dylath-Leen. We strode the night path for days and days until the hours grew empty. Primal consciousness stained with sacrificial blood. Thelema! Such are the beasts from the Other Side. The 3rd Octave is ultra-telluric cacophony. Their vibrations string our evolution along into the depths of glistening violet-plum tunnels known as the Cryptic Mauve Warren. Xeper!
Keys of self-discovery open the Outer Gateways. S’ngac the violet-colored gas beckons the world weary traveler. Magical consciousness can be broken and re-formed. Visualize the weak-points of your reality. Sweet the leg!
Behold the tentacles, the horns, the crimson shells from negative space as if Universe B tore a hole in the fabric of Universe A. Twenty three spatials wide. Vazn yzrai!
Who Will Shall Attain!
Qliphothic energy released! The Dark Goddess oozes, distorts, and manifests in painful childbirth to rest upon swords forged by vengeance. Gaze upon oneself from outside, solitary wizard.
One in All, All in One!
A Yuggothian current bathes us in liquid fire, emerald and monstrously hideous to view. For no man may stare into the burning void of his own self, for any length of time.
The esoteric sigils smeared in blood, the true names taken from this gate are called by insane fingers of children. Their teachers intoxicated with fever-dreams of cyclopean red serpents. An arch demon of the deep water looks on while corresponding vibrations echo throughout the abyss which is absolute.
Dreams of the Outer Ones! Zirna abva! Bnae.
Slimy green gnosis seeping into eldritch dimensions as the humble tyrant struggles with his doomed kingdom.
They came across the ray of creation in antediluvian times. The Ancient Ones streamed down as greenish illumination. In our world appearing warped, asymmetric, and strange; a trapezoid of unnatural light which looked like deeper shadow to the untrained eye. This disturbing emanation bore man who walks betwixt moon and his foul empress. He brings rain and then has the preternatural sense to see that his road is wet.
The golden dawn erupted with sardonic, ruined temples and twisted, monolithic tongues in the desert wastes. There was nothingness in the arid night but knowing gestures secretly cast upon a fallen universe. Seeg’nah-thamote lurked within the third maelstrom facing Jupiter’s turbulent eye. The crimson hurricane seethes in spasms: 4, 3, 37, 44, 44, 37, 50. A blinding flash of light follows. Some numbers are thick and shining with a yellowish gold hue, and they are certainly feminine to the touch. These numbers can be viewed everywhere when scryed through a lens given us by the left hand of God whose number is 111.
Meditate upon lost parables handed down by the urgent undulations of Yog-Sothoth! Our 23rd path is represented by Yog-Sothoth’s hanging spheres – corpulent, rotting, ancient, and hungry to be washed in demon’s blood… cleansed not destroyed, you fools! Man can only nourish the Ancient Ones as he feeds himself. The Ancient Ones are forever linked to humanity. His crisis point is the angle of serpentine nucleus, epicenter of our Dread Lord’s vision. These cousins with tentacles writhing in horrid unison like a serial killer lullaby sang to moon children outside the noxious cave. To His emerald cloaked clerics go the pale void of a warlock’s palm, as well as, exotic spoils from foreign lands.
Mystical orders, such as the Cthulhu Cult, are the shells of lurid spirit-spiders drifting unmanifested in aetheric Devil-chowder. I shall have a caliphate imposed upon earth from Lovecraft’s abhorrent, grotesque, unquenchable bloodline… his dream-line. A conspiracy, cries the peasantry. 176 dream quests mining for precious gemstones belonging to those violet, furry arachnids from Saturn. Damn them to Hell for most of eternity! The dangers of paradise bleed from the Dark Lord whom can only be seen when masked.
Recognize the fault is with one’s current program and not, as is typically believed, the lesser programmers who restrictively guard the tunnels of liberation. The seals number 797. Within each star-spawn! Look ye to the Kadathian shadows upon paths of triality. Arctic winds blow hostile, but the Tentacled One has prepared the way. Multiple brides add genetic layers to the All-Father’s lifestream.
This new Aeon belongs to the High Priest walking behind the hidden tapestry of viridian snakes. This one shall pronounce the ancient word and himself Ipsissimus while earth descends. He hath a peculiar connection to the Lovecraftian mysteries as this Necronomicon promises but only occasionally delivers, depending on the student. Each reading is a ritual or sign, an execution of one’s former self. From his voice a malevolent theocracy shall cleanse and purify until naught is palatable but loathsome ichor. 21 equals 333 in the silky sweet formula of Seeg’nah-thamote.
Calaa byzt izratan. Iyath oola pahreji ellisa zohzst!
Center yourself, eye of the Ancient Ones. An unbalanced cultist may bleed uncontrollably in a single dimension where multiple realities heal with raw darkness. The initiate of nocturnal faces looks for indigo lightning when storms take hold. Universal forces disrupted… turmoil and apocalyptic whispers from the circle of stones… moments the cultist might seize unto his advantage. Jupiter misaligned causing acute angular distortions in our prison. Make use of these opportunities rarely afforded the magician.
One shall know his magical will by the failures accumulated. Yath ot cora besya! Zodul!
Set, the Force from Outside, suggests a greater darkness. Ahraev’Nuszeth’Kaiul is the nowhere and nothing, void turned inside out then dissected. Your voyage to Saturn has proved problematic. Octagonal windows evoke apocalyptic rites at midnight under a ghoulish moon. Seven doors.
The wand of God is His alien finger writhing towards infinite space like a tentacle or worm or tongue. Visions are required to piece the fragments together. Squatting in a hellish half-circle, I allowed my mind to wander through the mirror of life where Father sits throned upon an edifice ostentatiously strewn with rubies the size of a newborn’s head. Non-cultists are occasionally used by the Ancient Ones as vehicles to hold the pattern and shape of wondrously horrific divinity. Slay those obstructive non-believers with sharp and vicious swords!
When man becomes a void he may approach the unnameable entities described by our forbidden teaching. However, man is almost never voidlike… virtually never whole. He is a junkyard in space, a hoarder collecting whatever refuse is found. Everything must be cleared out. Empty the wanderer so that he may fill his void with absolute nothingness. For that nothing shall take up all the space one has.
Shazamforash! Mek ot inha ph’n paz nygh!
Foetid corpse-like tendrils in bas relief lurking at the threshold like pale fire. Those who see through the conspiracy have been chosen by the Ancient Ones. Their mission is replete with God’s yearning. The conspiracy against humanity is cloudy, murky – but made crystal clear when you’ve hit rock bottom. Go for the golden hue and ye shall invariably receive the sky blue lightning. Worry not, from the stench of ripe fruit ye drinketh the ichor of life.
Ultra-dimensional reality crumblinig beneath the subterranean vaults of N’kai. There are secret weak-points beneath reality. Huh ho, no stopping now! Energy resonating backwards through the sentient gate. Unstable. Breaking. Kort’thalis shambles out of that tenebrous mountain. Anti-prime numbers cascading in a programmed key, singing their entropic song. Celestial speech ululating the lies which lead to truth unvarnished.
Awakened beings can operate outside space and time by interacting with Universe B. Reject the small, daily illusions which society believes to be great, vast, and unsurpassable. Renounce them and they shall not reject you in kind! The call does not appear as human language but something greater and more terrifying: Essence birthed from the festering corpse of our false, mechanical selves. Make super-efforts to record your actions, feelings, and thoughts throughout the day. Replay them while analyzing all your mistakes. Everyone misses the mark some days.
Hail Cthulhu! Uoon delgado ozra kafj’th. Inha igrog izratan! Why are the robots attacking?
Die to oneself in order to be born a dark phoenix of chartreuse luminosity, rising effulgent from the blood of God’s ineffable flames. Within the susurrating cavern, I glimpsed a man who was selfish, a man who was selfless, and a man who was both. All three exist and must exist inside every man. Working together, the triad can make waves. If reality is fluid, then such a counter-current shall undo what has been done.
Space-transcending knowledge, time-transcending being… understanding imbibed by an alien wisdom drunk on revelation, drowsy with comprehension, and thoroughly annoyed by murderous clown spiders wandering alone in the labyrinth.
Take heed of this stellar transmission, mortal. It is the law in a land where the lawless masses copulate in the eyes of fearful initiates. Have the sight of men who would jettison their pure filth unto the gaze of nubile woman. And from that which runneth down her face, take comfort in knowing that ye are doing God’s work.
The masses can absorb truth only through amusing nonsense. Influence triple-A. On the surface, this appears a blasphemy, but at its furthermost depths it goes beyond. A heresy so palpably malignant that man becomes forever shaped by his boundless stupidity.
Cthulhuism and Yog-Sothothery are the width and breadth of undiluted trans-meta-consciousness exaltation. Ye shall meet with S’ngac, a being in the form of a violet-colored gas. His vapor shrouds those Devil-spheres which mark the end of all mankind. “I am the Abyss!” It ululated.
Cthulhu’s disquieting slumber is representative of man’s super-consciousness which is both above his ordinary, so-called consciousness just as it is below his primitive, dreamlike subconscious. Negative green. When the stars are properly guided, he shall rise Awakened before His cult. Ia Ia Shub-Niggurath, black goat of the woods with a thousand young!
This is twilight of the almost Gods who are really infidels or, more probably, professional Satanists. Those scum-sucking mutants whose only real self-worth comes from pwning others wherever their bullshit is tolerated. However, Satanism itself is active opposition for the betterment of oneself first, those closest to oneself second, and humanity third. Satanists who adhere to that definition are excluded from mockery.
The zen of genocide shall bring us home to the mountain of pastel ice cream wishes and sadomasochistic girl on girl scat porn. And upon that mountain, Yog-Sothoth’s 111th priest shall present himself as monstrous orange goo while crying out, “You want to know what truth is? Truth is having gone so far that it’s too late to go back. The sleeper has Awakened, motherfucker!”
We are the Martians. Quatermass knew it and deep down so do you. But our war is of a spiritual nature, an esoteric conflict that must be fought in secret and on the inside where the dirt grows. Build a bridge from the red planet Mars to the cold waste of Kadath. Pay the toll, tip the boatman, and whatever you do… nod politely to the lizard people!
The mad Arab massages your pineal gland, the star eye of the Meta-man. He’ll pay you back next Tuesday. Three pylons frame the rising moon. Obscenities of Qlippoth, name the Hierophant who comes unto His turquoise temple. Make the sign of Koth. Iyath h’fsirie loth!
Install the trinary code into your personal computer. Reconcile, you son of a bitch. Reconcile! Most men are in sexual servitude to their monotheistic vagina. Well, I’m here to free the slaves just as the Old Ones instructed. Less ultimatums, more pussy… as Nyarlathotep is constantly muttering.
Here endeth the lesson which is the first of more than one gateway. You’re welcome. Think you can do better than Ipsissimus Venger As’Nas Satanis? Then stop whining and start your own God damn religion.
Venger As’Nas Satanis
Cult of Cthulhu