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Mio Seanachaidh Jan 2017
Tremble and hail at Cthulhu's call



Who is Cthulhu?

the Ancient One, A Dark God

first recorded by H.P Lovecraft

once long ago



Now, Cthulhu has several followers

few at first but rapidly on the rise

Cthulhu is very real and soon will be revealed



He's in deep slumber

Way below in R'lyeh

far under the sea



If ever he shall awaken

The whole world will be shaken

All humanity will be lost



Only a whisper of a spell

From the Necronomican

Can seal him back to his tomb



Beware for when the stars align, R'lyeh will suddenly appear

and Cthulhu will revive his subjects

To rule this Earth once more



Cthulhu, the powerful, ancient, and he who knows all

Come and heed his call

He speaks telepathy to those who will listen

Come, Cthulhu, your child awaits

To hear your voice and spread your message

To those who don't believe
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of the infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far." - H.P Lovecraft
Thomas Thurman May 2010
How sweet the name of Cthulhu sounds
In raving mystics' screams!
It drives them mad, enflames their brains,
And troubles all their dreams.

It brings insanity and dread
Into the world of men,
This world which once seemed safe and sane
Shall not make sense again.

We gaze upon thy face more dread
Than any watchful dragon;
And sing the eternal hymn to thee,
Ia ia Cthulhu fhtagn.

Cthulhu! my dead yet sleeping king,
Thy cults shall be restored,
Thy tomb shall rise to air again,
Just, r'lyeh, r'lyeh, Lord.

Weak is our twisted woodland dance
And cold our campfires cursed,
But when the stars shall rise aright,
We shall be eaten first.
zebra Apr 2017
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
perhaps
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye

i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation

have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness

do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****

i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
my
gray rubbery boneless head

i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
licking
salivating
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side

can pretty pretty do that?

come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
incandescent
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
m Oct 2010
Rhetorical ambiance –
Marker writes 2D in 2D
On white windows.

“Does he see the fish
in the murky river?”
I do.
“Of course not.”

I CAN’T ESCAPE
no one, teacher screams
shattered board
a hole through –
nefarious, nebulous faces
eat light

Anyways,
eraser goes down
Teacher writes 3D in 2D
I reel with lack of –
Sleep.

Birds flee the coop
Clock strikes the red one
Hickory-dickory dock
And I, in my creative
Hickory-dickory ship,
slowly leave
This is an odd one, because it does have a meaning, per se, but it doesn't have any important themes (or at least, any I observed while writing it).
John B Jun 2012
all aluminum alloy ammo  

bane bat brakes badly basters back bones

come call cthulhu Cristo cuz

dead ******* dominate de download  

even elven eternal endowments

fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence

grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity

how hella homeboys have how he has

If I ignore I implicate its implore

jack jacks jacks

kay killla kooks krack

LAPD locks la lackeys

maybe mom made mad monoxide

no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes

oh over overt opp only overlay orphic

please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity

quiet quivers quiet queens

remember rage reaps reciprocity

so sour sits supplanters sat

to tell them to tare trail *** tat?

universal unhappiness underlays under us

victory validates victors vanity

why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting

x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea

you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish

zero zag zealots zoos
.......if they got me they'll get you to
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
My god is love
Your god is God
I know it sounds odd
I wish to be cod
That swim through your veins
Until I go insane
Invading your mind
So I may know your kind

I have to tip my hat
When you say the world is flat
And I shift into a stiffer constitution
When you say you don't believe in evolution
My love is strictly fundamental
Our differences infinitesimal

I cannot deny
This temptation inside
This inflation of mine
I want to walk with you like Jesus
If in that moment you could freeze us
I'd believe forever
Through any endeavor
That two gods were merged
And true odds were purged
My life would be surged
Into perfection
By a reception

Love is a fabled fraud on the scene
Until I find a god in the machine
You heretically hide in between
Fields of green and wet dreams
Your smile takes me there
To realize we're no pair
So I become Cthulhu
In order to fool you
When you're the giant squid
And I'm just a kid
If I want to be caught in your tendrils
I'll have to work on my fundamentals

I dream of Athena
After you make Cupid look stupid
While holding a noose
With the power of Zeus
But I still want more
To hammer like Thor
Yet after all my plotting
I'm still frozen like Skadi

When I face a titanic task
I wear a panicked mask
Obtaining a reluctant martyr's luck
When my emotions run hot as ****
I face the wrath of god
Inside your cattle ****
So I wait like the Buddha
Wishing I never knew ya
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
Kj Kennedy Jun 2019
Children of the moon
Wait for Cthulhu's return
As they dine on human fear
In hopes he will appear

When The stars align
It will stand with straightened spin  
opening his tired eyes
Followed by the worlds demise

Sleeping in a hole
Far beneath the sea
He delivers horrid scenes
to a chosen fews dreams

Visions of the future
Drowned in smouldered ash
Screams of countless voices
Silenced in a flash

When you look upon his face
A horror to behold
There’s no chance to turn and run
Your soul has turned too cold
Sam Hain Oct 2014
To swim the slimy seas the ocean o’er
And gag upon the rank and rotten air
Filthy with sailor’s curse and foulest swear
In search of lost and dearly loved Lenore,
To open up the inner sanctum’s door
And call (in tongues unfit for holy prayer)
Clammy Cthulhu forth from out his lair,
Will be to me most pleasant evermore.
And like a count who shuns the light of day
And moves by candlelight in chilly gloom,
Or a black witch that wears a sacred bloom
Of belladonna on her breast alway,
I live where the scarecrow spies the blackbird’s lark:
I live within the cold and rainy dark.

O.O
Joseph S C Pope Mar 2013
I

Angry stupors succumb her sternum
                                          --battered cavities
                             and shoulder sockets.
   Mates with shotguns and pitchforks
           snapped femur bones holding to hope,
  cat nap toes struggling
                                            to climb the miserable

  The greatest beasts reverberate
                        --Fathom and Torrential/Alice & Skippy,
                                       & Orwell and Bukowski
   with pit mentality swarming
                            her literature
                            his neck.                   Never be the Republics.

     The wall is wood and bare. Ammonia wet seal--
              
            Alice, with her sweet, clawing voices sees
                          this escape is a prison.
        The dove sent to fetch Peace's growth
                  got stuck                                     in the chimney
                             that Skippy built with his stubbornness.

     Alice touches her tacked on remnants
                       --feeling the double home.
                                  Skippy stands still unless Alice calls
     for him
                  and he runs so fast with heart halves beating
                                                                ­       slow.

   *II


           Skippy looks down the abyss and sees Julius Caesar,
                    Cthulhu, and a black flag
     calling back for ceremony
                                 in honor of facilitating fear
                        holding tears
                                   and hugs with arms of falsehood.

    Providing bread for mothers and fathers,
            captors of our tables of silence.
       Fear--making dead witnesses into no soft music,

                                                         ­  no music.
                                                          ­       No,
                                                             ­  facilitators near the top.
                                              What the minds of men
                                                             ­                have done to him...

III

                            Wet paper skin,
                       flat screen canvases--cute satisfactions
                                  asked mean all the world
      but yet                                nothing              but petty questions
                                                       ­                              that break the camel's back.

   "Do I deserve to do this to you?" Skippy asks,
                  helping Alice remove her other lung.
   "Pages will tell babblers later
                           in history", Alice replies.                   Shrieking

    Skippy quarters Alice, the body, the organism's pillow
                    ink
                    oozes
        ­     and    
                             squirms.
Silence,
               as Skippy does the deed.
Wallowing
          back
into
           the
swamp
            of
obsessive
           perception,                        climatic disintergration
                                                 ­                   makes flint hit steel--making another heir
                                                            ­                                       in her litter. Her name is Pain.


IV

       Loving Alice
                           watches         as she falls,
                                                    crashe­s,
                                                and rises.
She smiles softly.


V


  softly with lips of jasmine, the butterfly conundrum is strapping
            fingers made of chalk and other media to
red bricks,
red bells,
it is but a ghost of a casket. She breathes in this casket--in the belly of a bell, she survives.

                                     It doesn't take her long
            to finish
                          what she has done
         --nails faded back to purple polish.

  Falling through her father's philosophy                         a ladder,
                                                         ­                                    a rope
                                         to strangle the blade of Lady Macbeth's sanity.
          Alice takes one last look
  under jasper eyelids--pulls the rope & becomes lactic.
                                                         ­              A motion film.
Bustling energy of trade, fueled by wind and sea
By the bay, this town lived and died
Hauling stock, beast and trade

Commerce of lives, both benign and mine
Thousands of souls, the lifeblood of a town
Building, crating and shipping

Southward rumors of ancient gods, living in ocean deep
Too fantastic for the mind, first trickled then rain
They said, Cthulhu had walked again

Scoffing, things of myths and madness
Forgotten legends, and salty sailors' threats
But rituals pestered, beneath night and cloak

Attentions turned, as they always must
From fantastic, back to life and living
Until adrift, floating death made fall

Rumors resurfaced, cinders to flame
Dockyards without workers, migrants leave
A strange disease, visited from slave to master

From managed flame to fire, the grotesque grew
Crying of unexplained pain, watching madness spread
Freezing port, travel and even the wind

The bay lay like glass, frozen in August's heat
Neither wind, nor wave bothered the docks
And folk looked now, to the religious for bread

Of those, Christians alike
Busied with new, task at hand
I thought, we might pull through

But newcomers mingled, stole members away
Slowly churches emptied, in a span of days
As even their pantries, emptied and barren

I speak now, last fateful night
More dark than pitch, as quiet as death
A silent fire blew, giving neither heat nor light

Beams cracked, charred to ash
Before my very eyes, unbelieving and true
Foul smoke, oily and slick crept

Tendrils spilled out from the hall, I shuttered back
Those that it touched, almost gently
Fell, shuttering and breaking with plague

Gathering my wits, wife and children
We fled town, witnessing gathering horrors
Mishappen feature is friends, family terrorized our way

They had been broken, white eyes seeing naught
Flesh drained of color, ashen and sometimes crushed
Clawing at faces, a great violence to all near

A couple puking sea water, conjoined at the hip
Another opened his own gut, searching and chanting
Still more hunted, having features more akin to the depths

In the morning, as the ocean birthed the sun
I could just see, what remains of the town
In its unearthly stillness, movement caught my eye

A procession of black, marching in step
Strangely orderly, a contrast to the night
Following a symbol, a banner held high

It was then that I knew, remembered from the past
Prophecy foretold, elements of evil from lore
Stories from grand mere, meant to frighten or more

Fallen gods, cast from the stars
Slumbering, undead and yet alive
Bedded beneath, immortal in the deep

Such creatures, nightmares of another race
Gathering ours, devouring sleep
Now, awake
sab ariana Nov 2020
in the void
the darkness
the sapphire shadows below
i have waken soon all of mankind will know
from the waters i rise
to bring you a cold wet demise
the tides they turn  the moon she burns
the great flood is here
the ground soaks in the oceans tears
oh my followers they wept
deep down in the depths
how long have i slept?
celestial dreams my planet of rings
judgment and their cries
"no one can escape her watchful eyes"
now that i am awake terra she shakes
man is five and yes i am eight
the tentacles from your nightmares
the dreams that you hate
the cleanse has begun
my song  is now sung
all hear my call
the great cthulhu brings you your fall
dun dun dunnnnn i was listening to the call of ktulu by metallica and idk i guess i got inspired
adi Sep 2019
To sailors mad and poets in pain,
In dreams of unimagined colors,
Appeared Cthulhu horror-bearer
Spreading phantoms to their brain
Praise Cthulhu Lord of Terror
Harbor of sleep to the insane.
Nigel Thornberry Jun 2015
From dankest monsters we desire increase,
That thereby Cthulhu's rose might never fly,
But as the ****** should by time travel,
His tender hare might bear(the bear would eat the hare though) his memory:
But thou, contracted ebola to thine own bright laser eyes,
Feed'st thy light's rave with self-substantial diesel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
    Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
    To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
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krm Jan 2021
It should be the most desired sight of all
the person whom you hope to live and die
so, this fire feels like love against our skin
we ramble on, in stasis,
caught ablaze and smoke
fills our lungs. There are sirens too loud
and too few to do any rescuing.

Kiss me you, fool.

Before the sky envelops us,
there's a mammoth of an alien
peaking through the sky's cracks,
tentacles grabbing.

No mercy.

There are no words,
for stars littering the sky
at daylight, and there's no use
in semantics for what unravels
in front of us.

But mathematics and optics,
equations letting sight pierce
through time. We are gorgeous as
we gasp for air, our life forces divided,
and allotted to some place distant.

What would our ancestors say?
Too proud to hike up death's skirt
and steal a look. Isn't this what we are?

Hungry.

Would they be proud
or would we be considered fools
to think we are untouchable?
Why not let our lips spark like
the bolts igniting the sky,
why not resort ourselves to ghosts
and haunt each other's great relatives

Shouldn't we give in
and behave as if
we're the last of our kind?
Rupert Murdock, the decrepit baboon skeleton,
airs his saggy old *****, just scraping the ****** post-riot pavement,
tethered by holy eternal varicose veins.
On the pulpit,
while his latest  18-year-old Sinclair media wife
is about to get another sponsorship from both
Chick-fil-A and Pornhub simultaneously.
She hoists up her 4 pounds of silicone and chastises the teleprompter.  
The non-stop, family-values-approved bride to bed conveyor belt of
plastic, airbrushed Barbie fantasies delivers again,
family prepped since  16 , timed to be next in line on her eighteenth birthday,
prenup in hand, already half-replaced before the vows finish, brain-dead sacrificial ******.
She delivers the one line of her lifetime :

“Pray for stricter FCC compliance!”

Rupert Murdoch, that brittle old heartless greedy leather hate balloon, waddling up to the baptismal like some ****-mummified televangelist.
His ******* looks like a pair of deflated Macy’s parade balloons, gray and dragging,
incalculable waddles
swinging under fluorescent stage lights,
while Fox News’ camera crews powder  them up
and then pretends not to stay  zoomed in.

Next to him, his Sinclair-branded trophy wife—18 years old,
teeth white enough to blind an orphan
leans in, hissing like a possessed Stepford wife:

“FCC compliance, Daddy, for our sponsors!”

Meanwhile the teleprompter glitches, spitting out a slurry of half-written QAnon hashtags and ****** ads. Every time the chyron updates, his granny-bedazzled MAGA ***** twitch
like a Sunday school metronome,
keeping that uneducated southern apprentice rerun rhythm
with Tucker Carlson’s embalmed pre-****** consta-sneer somehow still echoing
through the sound system.

The sexually repressed civil rights denier menopause crowd
goes wild,
waving hymnals made of Bible stock options
and AR-15 gun show manuals.
The choir belts “Fair & Balanced” like it’s the Nicene Creed.
Karen boomers in rhinestone MAGA hats throw ******* on stage till it rivals Mt. Rushmore.
Then another hate-filled racist streamer Infowars priest breaks in, live-commenting the *****’ tempo.

The traumatized, ritually molested and ignored choir kids are
all corporate mascots:
Ronald the death-of-cows McDonald,
the forgotten pizza-*******-addicted Noid,
the ******* Geico Gecko shame-and-fear puppet,
all singing the Fox News hymnal
while ****-chugging Bud Light in NFL jerseys.
The cross-shaped teleprompters melt into a deepfake of
Jesus hocking MyPillow and ***** pills
simultaneously.

The A.I. audience loses their scripted corpo-tested ****.
Hot G.O.P. elected ****-doll **** Karens fleece boomers in rhinestone MAGA hats,
steadily flinging Spanx and granny ******* toward the stage
like it’s a Pentecostal wet t-shirt contest.

Black priests react, screaming
“POGCHAMP BALL SWAY”
into their Amazon headset mics.

The choir is a corporate mascot freakshow.
The Fox camera pans to Grimace rising from the fryer grease
like Cthulhu saving the Hamburglar’s soul from the elitist liberals. Except now no one can tell Matt Gaetz from his exact twin Ronald McDonald
as they are both conducting with ketchup-stained Trump-approved Happy Meal scepters.
The Geico Gecko, in liturgical robes, chants in Cockney while doing snow angels on a pile of corporate lobbyist insurance regulation cash
(oh, and all tax free).
Judge Judy, in ecstasy, hammers a tambourine like a tweaked-out animated hemorrhoid
They belt out the Fox News hymnal, a distorted “Fair & Balanced”  sports score interrupted  drone.

Deepfake Jesus appears.
Holy hologram Christ, beaming and lifelike,
pitching mandatory prayer in school
AFTER  collection plate time.

“Blessed are the erectile, for they shall inherit the white Earth.”

" Rupert’s will is all-powerful. He hath made Trump into an infallible MAGA God, and soon the tiny-handed orange one of mushroom ***** glory shall be ascending like the Star of Bethlehem, guiding the gas-guzzling SUVs to Wal-Mart to stock up on bullets, for the numerous bunkers shall overflow with powdered supplements and the ****** of your neighbors.    ... Amen."

The crowd bows in Islamic unison.
Rupert, the angry ******* desiccated ******* scarecrow,
***** doing subliminal semaphore, adjusts ***** microphones, lipstick-covered ******* swaying like a doomsday pendulum,
as the choir’s chorus crescendos into a mashup of Fox jingles
Bringing in the sheep  and “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
God's Oracle Aug 2021
I am completely honest I am accepting the help from my Christian Brothers and Sisters to at last RENOUNCE to the spirits of Lust, Power, Pride, Sloth, Manipulation, High Places and Violence. I voice out my heart because I have gotten accostumed to allowing this entities to coexist outside of my temple yet have given them permission to utilize my temple whenever I needed their knowledge or expertize or even experience due to their massive years of antiquity. Some of this spirits are a Millennial Spirit with a vast amount of rich knowledge special way to aid it's host on making predictions on other people's livelihoods via astrological, numeral, symbolical allegory of unexplored secrets of the spirit realm. When being able to look at a person's spiritual blueprint and extract his exact 3 most radiant aura colors and if you can suggest a perfect number a number that has meaning in their Life...this can shake the foundations of their empirical and theological or philosophical beliefs...This things are a Spiritual Gift I have unlocked and possess the capacity and capability to allow someone else see their destiny and Life thru a newer more fresher perspective. I have learned that every person has a different spiritual walk either lost in the world roaming this planet with too much ignorance and intellectual theory's that defy God and his existence. What they don't see is that without God our Universe could NOT coexist nor be able to continuously expand and bloom in the vast expansions of the unexplored darkness that is ever so prevelent in the cosmic celestial hosts. Don't you people understand that we are all somewhat related via blood types and ancestral family trees and how we can trace the DNA that proves we all have a genetic molecular modification to our DNA via other unknown entities that somehow gave us knowledge of magik, weaponry, chemical alterations  that can be administered to the human body via energy exchange, ritual accession or even experienced thru drinking, smoking, inhaling, or injecting this Drugs to the human body. Furthermore, knowledge of hybrid breeds of people, astrology, mathematics, science, philosophy, arts & crafts, precious stones, alchemy, spacecraft, portals to travel thru time & space, herbalism, medicine and artificial machinery. What is important to note is that I am relinquishing my temple from utilization from this spirits and in the Powerful Name Of Jesus Christ I command ******, Malpheor, Asteroth, Gremvor, Cthulhu, Sezil and Belial I command thee to leave me be in the name of Jesus Christ and to not ever come back to work within me no longer. I am no longer interested in complying with your requests to use myself as a demonic conduit to allow you demonic spirits be able to work within me...am so glad that I have finally realized that you are evil entities that somehow gave me illusive power that I adored to utilize to feel as if am above others. Now I realize that was pride and ignorance on my behalf...I now will be able to move more smoothly more clear with more clarity and with a special calling to use  my gifts for the good of humanity...now just letting the Holy Spirit to open my spiritual eyes and envision the path layed before me.
I am cancelling all commitments and all demonic spirits must leave in Jesus Name...Amen!!! The Lord Shall Persevere, Endure Forevermore Till my Life ends I'll follow the Lord everywhere he leads me.
Jesus has the power to heal cast and heal desolate temples...he can turns hearts of stone into hearts of flesh...and he is the one that can save your Soul.
Step to me, o' child of sun.
Come along, o' mother moon.
Join us all, o' father time.
To a place where all laws stop.

Space, Time, Order, Chaos.
Endlessly shifting, altered eternal.
Dimensions shatter, reality falls.
Forces bubble, gravity smashed.
Crackling quarks, equal
Universal heart attack.

Past the end of forever, and
Through the border of nevermore.
To see the secret of the universe,
Follow me to the edge of infinity.

Life, Death, Love, Hate.
Man's quest, forever unanswered.
Truth and lies, dishonest alibis.
Questioning reason, senses falter.
Beyond understanding, lies true reality.
Cthulhu rules, Man madly dies.

Turn through time eternal.
Rush past the door of eternity.
To see the secret of the universe,
You must follow to the edge of infinity.

— The End —