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Who says oceans are deep
It's your exquisite eyes

Who says sugar is sweet
It's your soft soothing voice

Who says nature is nurturing
It's your electrifying touch

Who says flowers are beautiful
It's your scarless smile

Who says rainbows are colorful
It's your exotic expressions

Who says nobody is perfect
For me It's flawless you

Who says dreams can't come true
'Cause mine is in front of me for sure
I wrote this for the girl I love.
Each word and sentence here is totally true and fully experienced by me when I proposed to her on the 7th of April 2021
"DRUNK IN LOVE."

Gradually I'm getting possessed, obsessed by thy love--craft, emotionally flew his heart reaching out to her's. He's intoxicated drunk in love.
Lost in the
lovesome thought of her's. His
heart is detained  underneath
the water of
her soul.
So we're
sensitively
soul mates.
We met as 2 rivers confluences.
Indescribe-able
what these mean.
#C9_fm
Fur of bat
toad-like grin
eyes of lazy gold
green in sin

Sitting on the edge of forever
croaking sweet lullabies
a tendril tongue spanning galaxies
devouring worlds like tiny flies

A slothful gluttony so boundless
a privilege to slip down his amphibian throat
let's spend eternity inside him
together churning, wailing, floating in the acid moat
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"
judgment she cries
welcome aboard my painful ride
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
Norman Crane Oct 2020
I found the two-headed baby deer dying
on a bed of soft pine needles under cover of an overturned oak,
not five kilometres from my cottage,
Its lungs still pumped,
Its crimson heart beat weakly through a thin,
translucent skin,
that decayed before my eyes,
until there was no skin,
and all the organs lay warm and still,
in a heap upon the earth,
like waste.

A god evaporated.

It is human nature to disbelieve
that one may be witness to epochal events,
so I did not believe that I,
of all people,
should be witness to the death of time.

Epochal: the concept itself is dead.

How lucky we were
to know time at its cleanest,
and most linear!

We know now that such constant linearity
was the consequence of a living entity,
It followed the creature like stench follows a skunk,
and we basked in it
as if it was the natural state of the world.

No more.

Time no longer heals,
Things do not pass,
Or pass only to return.

At first we believed this would be manageable,
Yes, we thought, we will relive our pain but also our love,
Everything shall be magnified!
Welcome to an age of great emotions,
a new Romanticism!

Yet we overestimated how much we help,
failed to accept how much we hurt.

And we did not realize the nature of evil,
which accumulates in a way love does not,
To re-experience our love is to know it,
again and again,
at the same intensity,
but to re-experience pain is to increase its volume until it overpowers us,
deafening us to everything else.

I will never forget the creature's eyes,
full of hatred or hubris,
yet seeking aid it knew I could not give.

How does one save a dying god?

It was not my fault!

I was but a child asked suddenly to solve a deathbed equation
expressed in an undiscovered mathematics,
I had to fail,
yet in failing I have brought it all upon us.

I relive it constantly,
Every time its eyes are louder.

But it is the hour for my afternoon walk,
so I will take a pause and enjoy what remains of living.

I will go to my favourite spot overlooking the city,
and sit on the iron bench,
from where the view is magnificent,
Above me,
the clouds will form,
a tangle of pain and human corpses,
and I will sit and ponder until the first blood drops fall,
Then the screaming will begin,
the final storm will rage,
Beating, crimson corpse-clouds under a thin skin
of dissipating reality,
raining blood until we are left
warm and still upon the earth.
Norman Crane Sep 2020
On snow, his padded footfalls echo low
Heart beats: haste, fear
As none but its reverberations know
The ancient horror lurking near
A flash! Before the darkness rushes in
Not night but something deeper
Tentacles binding from within
Swift minions of a speaker
Whose very voice is sin
Whispering, listen, listen, in the language of the wind
Across what remains of summer's leaves
A murmured knowledge of the fate of thieves
And as the stolen idol drops
And the ancient one appears
His eyes begin to bleed
Discongealing the accumulation of his fears
Lovecraft-inspired narrative horror about a thief who mistakenly believed he was stealing from a human.
Zhavaed Haemaed May 2020
I am damaged goods
A corruption of heart
Up from abyssal depths,
Down to desolate clouds.
The fragment lying between
I am not the incessant air,
A rage of non awakening.
Culmination of all fears.
No words do then, describe
me; I do not conform to rules.
Exception I am; ambiguous
A regular consonantal fool ?
Decreed to consume it all
I carry a ravenous thirst.
Unchecked; I grow fervor
A demon, I am accursed.
Where, then, do I find home
Where does my soul belong ?
Whom shall I call my tribe
Then; what do I, thus long ?
I am damaged goods, get ye'
I do not conform to codes.
I belong to the nether realm
Let me lie, in my .. abode.
Do not then, exhume me,
I have chosen to slither in. And,
Lie dormant in the underground.
Where exist I may, in quiet
Lie hidden away, from the
carnal realm, I want none of it.
A monster of my own making,
A necromancer of the Undead.
An ode to both Dostoevsky and Lovecraft. I tried describing the existential pain of being in a world where you understand too much and thus are left, disappointed in everything, people.
Kvothe Apr 2020
An eldritch aura permeates
a palace, long forgotten.
I fell. Which may illuminate
my place amongst the rotten.

How long these ruins slept, I fear's
a desert measured aeon,
for sand has creep'd and crept in here,
a structure so protean.

This place it whispers death and dust,
a sister to the barrow.
I must escape this depth. I must!
These halls are much too narrow.

The stench of age, it fills the air,
with hints of green and purple.
Appendages, they slither there,
My thoughts they now encircle.

A mutter on the wind calls me,
it sends my digits lame.
Fluttered eyes. Where two should be,
five globules cry my name.

That fickle murmor, foe at first,
but now I know my error.
He tickles thoughts and quenches thirst.
Come, how could it sow terror?

All is well, I've found a friend,
His hug is warm and tight.
His many arms they do not end,
but wriggle, kiss, and bite.
Lovecraft inspired. I'm not sure how clear the story is. Guy gets lost in ruins. Meets some ancient creature. Creature takes over his mind, setting him at ease, only to eat him.
From murk-filled
depth, the unmaker—
little death from
which all sloth
does come—
rises
to squelch, slime-
smeared from left or
right ventricle up
capillaries to seat
of man, now
dethroned
immured to a
ribbed cage,
irons round
fatted calves, while
time-gorged with
leaps not taken,
the usurper burrows
fetid tentacles into
grey velvet folds, a
sort of un-
gyrification, each
parasite hook
best removed early
lest it become
entrenched.
This was written for a contest on another site. There were a few prompts to choose from, each one a quote from H.P. Lovecraft. I chose two:

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear."

“ Do not call up that which you cannot put down."
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