General:Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball

''Welcome to the Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball. I am Hlireni Indavel. I am an incredibly famous witch because of our dance in Ald Daedroth with those of gold-hats, hee hee... Here I am honored to bring you the mad poems of our Lord, the Mad God Sheogorath. The Imperial librarians are nice enough to let me give an introductory speech for the works of our Lord. It is strange enough that our Lord is also known outside of Nirn as Ted Peterson or Tedders. He is widely known as one of the conspirators of the trouble in Iliac Bay. Well, that is far from us here in Ald Daedroth. I don't know much about this trouble, but I heard it was messy, hee hee... Ah anyway, enjoy the poems and the gibberish words here, hee hee...

-Hlireni Indavel
-----
Drow, drow, drow your canoe 
The stream provides flotation 
Hysterically, hysterically, hysterically, hysterically 
Existence is hallucination 
-----
2nd of Sun's Dawn'''

Aye, I can often be beckoned 
Popping from my golden sphere, 
During Sun's Dawn, day the second, 
My favorite day of all the year 
As time on Nirn is chiefly reckoned. 
Still, my daily schedule is always clear. 
-----
Sheogorath: A Case Study

I agree 
To think to study me 
Is the mark of a mind delirious 
Beyond the pale 
And quite doomed to fail 
Ye who tries to take me serious 
In your world, 
Sick minds have unfurled 
Psychiatrist’s careers do embark 
But in the real 
Empire of Tamriel 
Madness grows strong in the dark. 
-----
Queen Alessia

Alessia, O Alessiiiiaaaa 
O Slave Queen in the White Gold Spire 
My question will beeee aaaa 
Quick one as on your throne you expire. 
Was it, o, diarrheeeeaaaa 
You birthed instead of the First Empire? 
Alessia, O Alessiiiiiaaaaa? 
O Slave Queen in the White Gold Spire? 
-----
Would You Mate?

The darkling and the dabbling duck 
In salacious mind he’s stuck 
On the mortal questions 
Of hot coital sessions 
Wondering whether spirits ... mate ... 
-----
Tit for Tat with Hermaeus Mora

This poem was posted by Hermaeus Mora:

Sheogorath's a merry drink 
Both matured and refined 
A colour rich and deep as ink 
And flavour that blows your mind.

''Sheogorath's response:

And Hermaeus Mora is a filthy stew 
Rotten glyphs and moldering scrolls 
Burbling layers of green, red, and blue, 
One cup is enough to fill two bowls
-----
Ode to Azura

Oh, Azura, Azura, the dust and the dawn, 
My guts fill with worms, my body their pawn, 
Oh, death cometh to stop my immortal dance, 
Alas, alackaday, and, aye, what an annoyance 
But weep for me not, we soon will laugh and laugh hearty 
Don’t dawdle, in the stone wood to the Ear-Clipper’s party
-----
Sanguine's Realm

Mind aflame, loin afire, illicit pleasure to seek 
From under the bed, Lord Sanguine doth peek 
To inspire perversions in the wild and meek 
Tales of taboos of which virgins blush to speak 
The wild rose blooms, perfumes in the burbling creek 
The petals, the stem, and the thorns’ painful preek
-----
Having No Lips Must Suck'''

Lips can be equipt if you'll pardon my quips to be ships, can be flips, can be drips, can be cracked whips, can be teasy strips, can be firm hips ... oh, dear, better keep from getting naughty ... can be salty chips, can be cheese dips ... oh, now I'm hungry ...
-----
'''Let's Put a God on Trial

Ot tup eht eslaf dog no lairt 
Si nosaer, dna ton nosaert 
Tub rof slatrom ot egduj eht enivid 
Neve fi no reH ym noinipo sedivid 
Si eht yrev tsehgieh fo ssendam 
Hcihw I nac ekamnu sa ti si edam. 

Editor's Note The reversed text reads as follows

To put the false god on trial 
Is reason, and not treason 
But for mortals to judge the divine 
Even if no Her my opinion divides 
Is the very Highest of madness 
Which I can unmake as it is made. 
-----
It’s a funhouse, a madhouse, a palace of magical sin 
But beware you leave nothing behind 
For if you go back through the way you came in 
The Dam Dog will swallow your mind. 
-----
Oh, Oblivion is full of games to make you scream and chortle, 
Like, Guess the Disaster’s Path, or Pin The Madness on the Mortal. 
And there’s always poetry involved, for it is the Princes’ duty 
To take the ugly in your world and give it our own beauty 
The marble jaws of Oblivion forever opening and shutting 
Like poetry, you let Mundus run, and then do a lot of cutting. 
A plague here, pestilence there, it’s so difficult choosing, 
But when we’re not doing that, we trying to be amusing. 
-----
Mehrunes Dagon

There once was a Prince named Mehrunes 
Whose buttocks sounded sonorous tunes 
‘Twas an odiferous song 
People sang before long 
They had enough of his full crescent moons. 
-----
Hermaeus Mora

There once was a Prince named Hermaeus, 
Whose voice was a thundering bray, thus 
People harkened to his call 
Til they discovered that all 
He was, was just withershin chaos. 
-----
I evah enod esoht semyhr ni eht tsap 
Uoy loof, lla lluf fo everv dna echanap 
Tub sa a dlihc erofeb a denmad tsaredeap 
Ym dnim gnihguols htiw noitirted 
I t’nahs od erom rof ym niotatsetsed 
Snalp ylno ruoy s’dlrow niotcurtsed 

Editor's Note The reversed text reads as follows''

I have done those rhymes in the past 
You fool, all full of   and panache 
But as a child before a damned paederast 
My mind sloughing with detrition 
I shan't do more for my   
Plans only your world's   
-----
'''That's Not Prose

"A tib fo esorp" uoy reffo eht noitalupop 
Tub daetsni tahw ouy evig ot su si yrteop 
Gnivorp ecno niaga eht noinu ecrovid 
Neewteb ruo serehps, ton os ralimissid 
Eht elat uoy llet si gnisuma, tub on elims 
Si no ym spil ni ym tnerruc doom ot etims 
Ni ym nettor doom, D’i ekat eht dnim 
Fo sudnum dna htiw a efink D’i ecnim . . . 

Editor's Note The reversed text reads as follows''

"A bit of prose" you offer the population 
But instead what you give to us is poetry 
Proving once again the union divorce 
Between our spheres, not so dissimilar 
The late you tell is amusing, but no smile 
Is no my lips in my current mood to smite 
In my rotten mood, I'd take the mind 
Of mundus and with a knife I'd mince . . . 
-----
Sheogorath The Banker

it’s nice to think you’d easily recognize 
a raving lunatic with your myopic eyes 
his hair is all askew, possessions in bags, 
he’s draped in chains or festooned in rags 
peering in too clearly is a dangerous task 
you don’t know what is behind the mask 

the smiling man on the street moving in your direction 
might be wanting your teeth for his molar collection 
you trust your spare key to the sweet lady next door 
never suspecting a thing ‘til your blood’s on the floor 
the fine merchant, those cute kids, that pair of newlyweds, 
you’d be filled with pure horror if you looked in their heads 

so, some say i choose this form to put you at ease 
with middle class formalities, thank you and please, 
others say it’s symbolic, though my bank has no walls 
and there’s no penalty for early mental withdrawals 
-----
On Writing Poetry

the meter’s quite appalling 
like bad fruit from out of season 
the witless wit rather galling 
and i’ve got no rhyme or reason 

don’t think i’m being modest 
per the bad verbs and noun declension 
i’m proud as a pillow bout my oddest 
poems of extradimensional demention 

more insane than all those psijics 
read my words and feel the curse 
boil the brains of all my critics 
who say i’ve gone from bad to verse 
-----
Sewing With Hearsay

When sewing a garment using thread coarse 
To create a gown of some beautiful art 
You might find that without a primary source 
One tug on the thread, and it all falls apart. 
-----
Sithis

Thither thin Sithis did slither the plinth 
So she supped and she sipped on thick absinthe 
Thus sated she waited, her sick thoughts with pith 
Lisping sibilant hisses does this Sithis writhe 

"Amusing sport," insolent Sithis doth say, 
"This hundredth pastime in ether’s sweet sway. 
The assassin’s soul, his carcass is a myth that I miss 
Sailing insane into the teeth of the ceaseless abyss." 

Whither Sithis withered, this they seldom say, 
A rancid kiss of passing sin, sagging death doth sway, 
On a starry isthmus soaked by thick salinic slime, 
Whisper thelemic solipsisms on supple flesh sublime 
-----
On The Misspelling Of His Name

Part I

You left out an O, my jobbernowled brother 
The name's Sheogorath, Sheograth is another 
A herder who lives with his family and his flock 
In an adorable little cottage in north High Rock 
His wife is fair and portly, still girlish for her age, 
His older son lives elsewhere, an actor on the stage, 
They get loving letters from him every single week 
Which proud Sheograth reads though his literacy's weak. 
A middle daughter and infant son complete the brood. 
She is sweet and shy, with a talent for cooking food, 
And though the tot is too young to have much personality 
He's the cutest, mildest child in the High Rock principality. 
They're happy if not rich in their modest little hovel, 
'Til Sheograth, mad, bludgeons them all with a shovel. 

Part II

Don't worry, young gascleramp, I don't care about the spelling, 
'Twas an excuse to tell a bloody tale that's worth bloody telling 
Many hiss my name in incoherent gibberings and squeaks, 
Or wild-eyed tongueless faces who voicelessly speaks 
Plenty screech my name in terror or croak it like a frog 
I'll even come politely when people call for the daM doG. 
-----
And the greatest trick I ever pulled since light came to my brain 
Was holding Mundus in my jaw and slowly biting down
-----
It has absolutely nothing to do with feeling like it or not. It is not what I say but what you hear. The entirety of Mundus is staring at a handkerchief and calling it a hacksaw.

As the poet Ithijjithi wrote before the Marukh tied rocks to his feet so he sunk from the clouds into the waves: 
Yclept the world is only light 
nO darkness, no, in man's eyesight 
laUghter joyless echoes perforce 
ariA of terror that there is no source 
natuRal law is neither word 
aversE to flight is the airborne bird 
amnesiAtic dreams of a disunioned marriage 
hyperboLic words but they disparage 
phenomenA you call what seems rare 
membershiP revoked of fire and air 
lively deaD rotting in the dirt, grin 
claw skin tO rip, pull back the curtain 
idiot knowinG is no way to be certain 
OF REALITY.

''Editor's note: The capitalized text spells "YOU ARE A LAP DOG OF REALITY."''
-----
First thing in the morning, M. Bal likes to slay 
A random principality, that's how he starts his day. 
Then he does his stretches, and if he's feeling wrath, 
He'll make someone's guts explode, then he has his bath. 
For breakfast, he has tea and jam, listening for the news 
Of the temple that collapsed, people kneeling in the pews. 
After lightning strikes in Elsweyr and floods in Daggerfall, 
An inferno in Solitude, why, then, does Molag Bal 
Take a break before smashing more with a deafening crunch? 
No, he's a busy Daedroth, so he takes a working lunch. 
All afternoon and evening, it's kill and kill and kill 
And kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill, until 
He finds the day's last victim, it's always good to view 
The last one to annihilate today, and today that one is you.
-----
i Myself hAve Never visiTEd aetherius, nor have any of you, but Legend has it that it’s a LANd where logiC and Reason reign Under a Xiphoid sky.

''Editor's Note: The capitalized text spells MANTELLAN CRUX.''
-----
O'er the treetops, the worm takes flight, 
'Tis no dragon, it is Peryite. 
Like a shadow over country and city, 
Comes the harbinger, Peryite. 
Pestilence blooms with each wing beat. 
For whom doth seek Peryite?
-----
Azura: 
Who would bet with me not expecting a cheat? 
To play the game fairly is the worst kind of deceit. 
You wish to dance 'til the floor burns with white heat. 
Your last waltz with Vivec, he stepped on your feet. 
-----
Oh, yes, the path is very crowded, 
But it is smooth and the skies unclouded, 
Those who think it's steep and twisted 
Which you can't move on unassisted 
Don't know you walk it without any strain 
Much easier than the rocks of the sane. 
Oh, yes, your fellow walkers may be odd 
As you stroll on the lunatic promenade. 
They stare and dribble and screech shrill 
Some move faster yet while standing still 
So, join the march, move fast, no slowing, 
No promises where this boulevard's going 
Run free cross the bridge that span the gaps 
(And, oh, steer clear of all the tourist traps.) 
-----
Ah, the hot topic is soul possessing 
The subject I'm always sharp addressing 
What is it like, you're no doubt guessing 
A wound that festers, clot abscessing 
The force on your head now harder pressing 
A spice-laden breeze the wind caressing 
In your body, a darker soul oppressing, 
Til yourself, your own self acquiescing 
Then ceases to fight, it's not distressing. 
When I'm gone, this is what I'm stressing, 
You'll find yourself always obsessing 
How sweet is Sheogorath's blessing 
-----
Shiogorath is a word a lambling might bleat 
While choking on a particularly thorny thistle 
His blood raw throat, breath dry like a whistle. 
But a ruse by any name would smell as sweet. 
-----
Impossibility, probability, likelihood, and odds 
When one is considering the killing of gods 
As the recipe says, firstly, when making a pie 
Create a new world, the old one must die 
When fourteen have come, then comes the Insider 
To stoke the hearth's flame, and thou, deicider, 
Can slaughter us all, cut our throats like mere swine, 
And drink deep of the blood of that which was divine. 
-----
Retem dna emyhr eht fo esuaceb yrteop od tonnac dam eht 
Tub eht dam era dnuob yb selur llits, siht yeht reven llet 
Nylnial fo sgnisselb eht etarbelec yam yrnezitic lacipyt 
Dna eht yad nehw s'nerdlihc doolb saw cinoteb edit 
Htarogoehs dlo fo modsiw eht raeh ohw uoy fo esoht tub 
Wonk taht yltcaxe neewt' meht si nehw eht dlrow si tliub. 

''Editor's Note: The reversed text reads as follows''

Meter and rhyme the of because poetry do cannot mad the 
But the mad are bound by rules still, this they never tell 
Lainlyn of blessings the celebrate may citizenry typical 
And the day when children's blood was betonic tide 
Sheogorath old of wisdom the hear who you of those but 
Know that exactly 'tween them is when the world is built.
-----
You can sometimes tell I'm coming 
Swiftly and surely as black death 
Other times you are succumbing 
With no time to catch your breath

While I have you in my chill grip 
It's a spasmodic, frenzied event 
Sometimes I grab and let you slip 
And sometimes I like long torment

My brutality always overwhelms 
Though every guard has caught me, 
I move freely through the realms 
Dust to dust, I humble the haughty.
-----
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts 
With barest wrists and stoutest boasts 
He thrusts his fists against the posts 
And still insists he sees the ghosts.
-----
When sewing a garment using thread coarse 
To create a gown of some beautiful art 
You might find that without a primary source 
One tug on the thread, and it all falls apart.
-----
To nerdy authorship from Madness's Summit, 
I've fallen shivering, down and down I plummet, 
Dropping lower and lower each night and day, 
Merely look to the Hunt and nest of corvus corvidae 
And you'll hear the last of the Dam Dog's moans 
As the abyss becomes one of thorns and bones 
From God to scribe to naught but a fading breeze 
To the house of the scrolls someone else has the keyes.