#cthulhu
Yo ** yo ** Poseidon calls
All pirates out to sea!
Ye lily-liver'd lily pads,
He's calling you and me!
So cross your heart, and hope to die,
And double cross your soul,
And sail the seven deadly seas
Where salt tsunamis roll!
The rattling bones of Davy Jones
Are sounding fathoms deep!
Full fathom five thy father lies
Where crustyaceans creep!
Yo ** yo ** the scratching cat,
Its tails are nine, you know,
And when they're writ upon your back
Your bloodstreams flow and flow!
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 2:40 AM UTC
There once was from West Wooloomooloo
A man who was called by Cthulhu
who asked for a loan
To buy a new phone
And renew his subscription to Hulu.
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 7:53 PM UTC
Regreso del mas alla,
con otra cara que no tiene,
el doctor.
El doctor se mueve en el espacio,
con manos mas que manos.
Tiene una cara que no se espera.
Yo quisiendo ser diferente,
tendre que esperar siglos,
y poemas, operas y mas.
A tender y regresar a otra piel
Se da cuenta que es Cthulhu
Es propio de sus astucias
Es audaz y magistral
Es poca su desolación
Es menester su cuerpo oscuro
Oscuro el master que maneja
Es mas que original es piel
Es Doctor StrangeLuv and
how to love to time travel
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 8:17 PM UTC
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
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 12:30 AM UTC
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
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC
It’s just a book. Nothing more.
A combination of translated words,
written upon tan paper
and bound in black leather.
It’s just a book, and yet somehow
it infects the minds of the readers,
twisting them until
there is nothing left inside their skulls,
nothing but its insidious whisperings.
“The Book of Dead Names”
is the title’s translation, as if to say
those whose times are recorded within
are among us no more.
Or perhaps the author,
so distraught by what he had learned,
sealed their existence away
in the shrine of forgetfulness
so that no others would suffer like him.
Just a book.
Just words.
Harmless, comforting letters, arranged
into patterns.
Yet, using only these written words,
the mad Arab has conveyed
our smallness in the immensity
of this our universe,
our insignificance alongside
the insatiable hunger of the stars.
He paid dearly for his prehension,
crumbling away like an ancient ruin
before the endless, shifting desert
that is the merciless chaos.
He is gone.
But his lexicon remains.
Just a book.
But such knowledge is not meant
for the fragile, breakable forms
of our species. To understand
our place in the universe,
and the immeasurable horrors
from which aegis of Ignorance
shields us, is to let go
of the handholds of sanity and drift
silently off into the void of enlightenment.
Yet still the book is read. Still humanity
turns its gaze to the stars,
and deep beneath the earth, searching
for confirmation of what we already know,
though our psyche may forbid
us to conceive of it.
Knowledge is not power. It is not freeing.
It is death. Death and ruin to all
who grasp the truth of this dark world.
It’s just a book.
A book penned by a man insane.
Rows of indecipherable words upon
innumerable pages, worn away by time.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 12:38 PM UTC
What if
we
said no
to demons
we
already
know
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
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
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC