Mad Arab

They call me mad, but you're insane
If you don't heed my words.
There are creatures on this plane,
So eldritch, their existence hurts!

I wandered through the desert black
And heard the demons howling.
A saw the rifts, felt every crack
And listened to strange aeons growling.

“Write a book”, they told me soft,
“A book of cosmic evil.
Tell them of the ones aloft,
The ones below and the primeval!”

Can't you hear the hissing sounds,
Of things too wrong to say?
Can't you see cyclopic towns,
In waving fog beyond the bay?

I'm a prophet since that walk,
Of horrors from the stars.
I saw them move, I heard them talk,
They told me of their ancient wars.

I wrote a book for you to read,
The book of corners black!
The book of humming desert heat
And of the times, when they come back!