"tentacled" poems
Lone leatherback cruises up from the deep, pausing on the fragile reef
to feast ancient eyes upon the show, a bright parade laid out below
butterfly couples paired for life, graceful angels in black and white stripe
brilliant clowns and their toxic lovers, a plodding gang of giant groupers
puffers bob like comic balloons, humble gobies on every menu
beaked parrotfish grinding the coral down, in the ears a constant sound
cowfish blowing puckered kisses, sea stars catching fishy wishes
white-tipped, hammerhead, tiger sharks, triggerfish mean bite worse than their bark
untamed unicorns too wild to ride, dogfish snapping, biting alongside
coral trout color-shifting fools, attracting ladies in dull-hued schools
**** headed wrasse rumbling through, thick lips mumbling go get a room
sea horses nod in labyrinth caves, razor-toothed eels lying in wait
if tentacled embrace should be your fate, nudibranchs will light the way
to a place of bliss, none of this can exist, without the builders
coral and algae bewildered, the ways of man egotistical
rising ocean temperatures, carbon emissions, and el Niño
victim of abundant greed, say goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef
so massive is this magical place, one can see it from outer space
astronauts witness its demise, ninety-percent barren, bleached bone white.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Sentenced to the sea until it is no longer salty
A ship and a box are all I have to aid me in my journey
Inside the ship, is a boy
Stained by the brine that pours from his mind
Forever dripping from his colourless eyes
And leaving his skin in the same condition
Inside the box, is a hundred pulsating shards
They once formed something beautiful and harmonic
Now a tentacled mass controls the rhythm of my blood
No longer do I yearn for the safety of home
Even if my boat shatters like the muscle in my box
I shall have no fear
Because I will learn to surf
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
I'm in a jellyfish daze,
floating effortlessly
with stinging thoughts in mind,
still tentacled to reality,
so luminescent,
gelatinous
for you.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
Floating freely by
Luminous glow surrounding
A tentacled moon
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 3:11 PM UTC
On an isle far way. Lost throughout the seas. A temple lies behind the mist, beyond the realms of you and me. The corridors lined with the likeness of men in stone. Pirates, sailors and knights who braved the seas and the tentacled beast. All to win the maiden treasure the temple keeps. Now the maiden hides alone. Alone in the tower with her lover encased in stone. Black tears from her eyes stain the silk of her gown. Mourning the memory of her lover drowned. She had not meant to take his life, but she could not resist the temptation of loving eyes. Loving eyes she'd never seen. Her strength giving way to selfish need. Her slithering hair speaks "He was not right for thee." Jealous whispers , lies straight from the serpent's tongue. But now she could take no more. A concealed dagger to silence the beast for sure, but the beast saw the dagger's shine. They deflected her in the serpent's way. Clammy bodies wrapped around her throat. Gasping breathes echoed from the drowning host. Once she fell onto the ground, they disappeared into the sea without a sound. Now she lays cold beside her lovers stone. Now joined together in the world below.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt, who died April 4, 1998.
Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight’s revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.
The moon lurks in the clouds,
waiting, as if to plunder
the dusk of its lilac iridescence,
and in the bright-tentacled sunset
we imagine a presence
full of the fury of lost innocence.
What we find within strange whorls of drifting flame,
brief patterns mauling winds deform and maim,
we recognize at once, but cannot name.
Keywords/Tags: sunset, aging, death, grandfather, grandson, grandchild, family, grave, funeral, loss, twilight, night, transcendence, heaven
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
Remembering My first taste of coffee--
just another commodity
standing outside Lowell Tech, a local factory,
a city corner in Haverhill snows— a worker's town
Passing out leaflets for a vapid Revolution
Another action/demonstration
to “Seize the Day!”
No computers; no social media
to fill the ranks of rallies at that time
So we froze our ***** off
trying to explain with sound bites, frosted breath
and fogs of rhetoric
A truth-- so tyranic, remote, arcane
too preposterous to even process
let alone explain
Standing there behind
its barbed wire reality
smoking from its stacks
the poisons of its process
Standing there
Stamping blood into my feet
Trying to convince my freezing self
my breaking heart
that all this truth?
was truly worth it!?
as I threw my education and my life away--
Trying to convince
...that inside that building
IT-- was being made
****** and
that Agent of Death and Defoliation
of an orange persuasion
so our war could have its way
with rice paddies and jungles
and people of a browner, poorer smaller bent
While on the home-front
we filled the mill with unwilling bodies
that died somewhere else
off site...
“Outta sight”
...or maybe some years later
from toxins dumped in river
left to leach to cancers somewhere else
into the ground they sink
Through tentacled subsidiaries
restructured divestments
Legal dismissals
of responsibility
the players run like roaches
for the exits
One fast move after another
they dissolve disperse
morph into
renamed ****** entities
Clean up their storefronts
clean out our pockets
while “providing jobs”
“investing in community”
along the way
Putting on a Goodwill Tour
Then
taking it away
“What? We never said....”
We'll take you down
leaving only the stench behind
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 3:01 PM UTC
silent tears burn
angry nightclubs with unconscious menageries of orange childhoods
drink the attention
artificial gleaming bodies licking knives sang burgundy 'glow' covers
winter answers ragdolls with drowning voices and double standards
aged sunrises shatter china wisped from personal dedication doodles
reminiscent of rain
seas mercilessly embellished with stinging souls from superficial smiles
suffered pink
writers cry ink and scream distant songs of artists life past
long understood things
premature custom murders and the crackling of caught conflagrations
professional bullets to multiheaded actresses pulsating lies
sacrificial circuses with retro dancers
bold riding on evident songbirds
choice movements ignored the colored flame
nonexistent pronouns
alien campaign
slithering sunlight control
impermanent celebration sending snuffed cries to insult children who struggle with melody and shed vines of saved unsure crime and unknown attraction
lost passengers with incorrect guestimates and impossible dreamlike stabs
honest as snakeskin
court born with salt and glitter
king calming tentacled shakespeare
seasoned atmosphere
looker smile
hiding sweet prominence
grasp shadows
finger paint the walls,
dead brother mine
white flame realize light pain
coldhanded, rosy eyes
death slowing reality
stop
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
Peering into my briefly loosened imagination, water at the mouth came and was swallowed.
Tide was taken out, and lost life preserver sauntered off to setting sun.
Culling something to discriminate between:
Poseidon erupting,
tentacled eyelashes drawing me,
or
a washing away of
any maybe.
Just then his trident pierced.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
Oblivious to the rest of the world,
My mind devious as he brushed back a curl.
Black tips exploring,
Soft lips imploding,
As we let humid thoughts unfurl.
Fingers land just off the grass on sweet thorns,
To counterpart my luminous corns.
Like rain on sand,
Like a fish on land,
Feels unreal like stars in the early morns.
Tentacled creepers wind around the vulnerable tree,
After sweeping black cascades over valleys free
Spicy honeysuckles fall still,
As they shadow the hill,
And they move on to darken knolls as they agree.
Yawning caverns filled with awoken bats
Cause chaos and whispers through the cracks.
Like the first breaths of life,
When impatience is no vice,
Reticence falls away outside steel vats.
As the wind runs over the dunes,
As he plays and strums and croons
Fingers running through the grass,
Smoke melting on the glass,
While we lay underneath the half moon.
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
Remark, pageant, how well this worn Cartesian speaks silence instead of wit.
Crucify maybe and often; singsong prattle succumbs him you.
Torturified lamb’s breath, teensy sighs and sweep of tentacled agog garners attention and wildfire – hop and home to not attend, to see.
Brandish magma wake and crystal cleanse re-barb, vicious cycle in heat patterned pro-guiro neural network, neat, loud for senses laden.
Up them and through them.
Scent the seeks you stones in barb, a fence in white a guttered prose, slitherentine.
Stately made his gatekeep - defend you. Harbor outwards with willpower nonchalant.
Pardon his with provocations, decadent don’t they know. (You know you, don’t they?)
And then.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
*Estranged paths
like the strangling, wrangling
arms of an octopus
that lead us away
from abiding bliss
Far from my Soul
I wandered
lost
bewildered
staring down blood eyed
from a hellish, jagged cliff
thoughts of suicide and self loathing
circling
the abyss beckoning
Drugs, liquor, promiscuity
prodigal acts against the soul
injected faithfully
brought little relief
a harrowing emptiness
unhappiness
gnawed within
utter darkness,
fear, miasma…*
Reflecting on my sofa, cuddling up with David
and little Rama. A sunny sense of abiding peace,
contentment and serenity suffuses the
room spreading beyond the walls of our home.
Sitting on the misty edge of my musings
I saw so many souls just like
us, struggling, lost, confused.
Tentacled shadows of the past
swim upstream, clasping me in their cold
clammy reptile embrace.
Painfully, I recall
my own desolate, unconscious
blind, search for stability, self assurance
and well being.
There was a definite, undeniable
correlation between the acts
I committed
against my Soul
and the Soul awareness
that I was now cultivating
Clear as a crystal ball
parting the curtains of tomorrow
I know
that as we make an effort to turn away
from all that is impure, unkind, deceitful
selfish and vicious
in thought, word and deed,
as we shut the door on hyper-sensuous pursuits
that lead us further into unspeakable darkness
Something amazing happens. A glimmer of light,
a spark of self awareness is struck.
Like blackened coals that we blow our
breath of life upon with all our might.
Our Soul blazes forth in all
its transcendent, eternal glory
And welcomes us home with open arms of
the cross, to a place of steadfast, everlasting
Being, Awareness and Bliss
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Her voice was poetic, such a bard may be
From my half drunk haze, I wandered
Looking up, she wasn't much a girl
She was tugging at sleeves, begging a scrap
A tale she spoke, of tears and madness
Bending any ear, that a bit might try
Throughout the night I puzzled, pieces
Of stricken towns, all easterly
Her father sickened, a cousin liken
The story beg curious, draining my enibe
Time wandered, much as patrons do
The little girl was found, by my side
Tossing her gold, she began
But to my sober eyes, she cringed
For her story, more than passing;
(She began)
Of her life, when cornered
I wanted it in whole, not beggary
Heir to dirt, spoken in small words
It was true, witnessed event
Beyond her small mind, driven slightly mad
The story twisted, tangents borne by emotions
It crept through the village, she lived
Affecting old and young, alike
A plague of the mind, before the body
Those slim recovered, as she was one
Say nightmarish creature, devoured the sea
Looming and tentacled, shelled crowned but flesh
Pillaged her mind, linking to others
Voice minds so loud, drowning her screams
Others clawing, burning their ears; carving flesh
Murderous intentions, toward husbands and wives
Children flailing, glimpsing lives to come
Wailing, the chaotic violence of the flesh
Slowly at first, the story was drawn
In her little voice, lost its pan
Confession came, through her tears
Sins not yet committed, a life hers to be
Memories of pain, unbroken fate
Suffrage of life, before ones age
I sipped rough mead, ordered food for her tale
Half listening to story, feeling the looming
A creature seeing us, omniscient from her eyes
She went on for hours, spent
Others draped, across table and chair
Unconscious from sleep, or dark in drink
On and on, the story unfolded
This shadowy entity, closer for sure
It's name unspoken, but knowing me here
The key (she said), it needed a door
It said, spokeless to her mind
And the tale, must be told
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
Life energy
Forever a flow
Do you see that?
Right there,
A glow
Have no fear,
We are here.
Together as one
Three armed beast.
Embraced by shadows
Tentacled appendages
Fractaling in
forever outwards.
Subconscious in the air
While Devils and Divas
Dance out of my head
Petrified by the dark and unknown
Tall cloaked figures
Round fat men
Nixon grins
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
Your profile doesn’t have a picture but you have been good conversation
Working retail has reinforced the mindset that people are snowflakes in all shapes and sizes
This doesn’t help me, I literally have no idea what you could look like
Or if you are even a person
What if I’m chatting with a scientifically enhanced hamster
If some Lovecraftian being is mingling with me through the cosmos
I asked for a pic 5 minutes ago and the outlandish ideas above have humored me until you replied
Do I read it and force the universe to give me an answer
Do I delete this whole app and live my life never knowing for certain
What if you say no
Then it must be some tentacled being wishing to unravel my very being
If only they knew that if left to my own devices I’ll do that on my own
I got the pic and now as predicted I unravel myself
Why would you like me
Why would you think I’m cute
How in the world would you find me worthwhile
You have a college hoodie on and it only serves to remind me that I am still in my rut no matter how good things have been going recently
You are the breath of spring and the other shoe at the same time
I guess I’ll keep typing, I’m glad at least the void has a face now
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:12 PM UTC
Waiting for the sun,
Blazon badge across a foreign world
A morning stand to, bringing a drop of sweat
Perfectly still, its my only movement
Traveling down, contours of eyes
Impatiently watching an alien landscape
They came from somewhere else
An known place, far in space
Attacked from out of the sun
Decimating cities, structures, life
Pumping chemical nightmares from their ships
Driving the elderly and children insane
Their ships were drones, robotic
Faces unseen, voices unheard
But only at first, and only in dreams
Populating our oceans, broke eco
Processing, harvesting, drinking all life
Like Leviathan devouring life
Massive ships, they sunk deep
More, their ships came,
Some we shot, falling from the sky
Crashing to Earth in massive comets
Of oranges, yellows, and blues
Scarring cities, farmland and lives
Others, tentacled, weaponed and fantastic
Crawled up our beaches, taking cities, crushing homes
Some tiny, unseen, breathed in
Feasting on flesh, multiplying
Liquifing, microscopically treacherous
Life by the millions, blinking out like strobe
Slowly we fought; humanity: nature of war
Learning to protect, learning to defend
Small thousands remained, I think they forgot
Maybe this planet, had grown too cold
We made weapons, developed this war
Brought ourselves back
We reached for the stars,
Reaching for new suns
We found them again,
Decided to wipe them from space
One planet at a time,
Each system in a row
But for the soldier's life
This dirt, this planet, this place
Its boredom and waiting
Burning suns
Freezing wastes
Always just another taste
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
Number 1
The SPACEBOY who was sent to the moon for no reason
His powers are super strength and ape-like physiology
That is who number one is Luther Hargreeves
Number 2
The KRAKEN who was never a child but always a weapon
His powers are perfect aim and trajectory manipulation
That is who number 2 is Diego Hargreeves
Number 3
The RUMOR whos powers gave her everything that she wanted
Her powers is mind control by lying
That is who number 3 is Allison Hargreeves
Number 4
The SÉANCE who's plagued with voices of the dead
His powers are mediumship and evocation
That is who number 4 is Klaus Hargreeves
Number 5
The KID who lost everything he ever had
His powers is teleportation through space and time
That is who number 5 is Five Hargreeves
Number 6
The HORROR who sadly died at such a young age
His powers are that he can summon tentacled monsters
That is who number 6 is Ben Hargreeves
Number 7
The WHITE VIOLIN who was a brother but never considered family
His powers are converting sound into energy
That is who number 7 is Victor Hargreeves
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 1:41 PM UTC
Did you know?
Your the monster
In my closet
Under my bed
That I see in the corner of my eye
That makes me jump at shadows
You think I'm nervous
That I still like you
Your kidding yourself
Your a monster
You devour souls
You crush spirits
You hurt me in every way
Yet you won't go away
Why?
Is it fun?
To destroy people
To see them suffer
To watch the tears
As they spill out
And know its because of you
Is it fun?
You think your amazing
But to me
Your the ten tentacled sharp toothed monster
That haunted my dreams when I was little
Except your real
And I don't wake up from this nightmare
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
One by one, individual then group
Faces look up, shine to the sky
Elation rippled, and the town shuttered
A horrible creature, stood once more
Stepping from the sea, building beneath foot
Timber to toothpick, stone ground to sand
It stretched, edge of horizon to edge
Wing tips ripped the sky, lightning crashed
It's eyes, madness dripped from dark orbs
Claws tips fingers, hung on heavy arms
Muscles grew and gathered, ignoring effort
As it dragged tails, seaweeds barnacled and old
It had come to Bon Homme, as legends foretold
Villagers succupiants now, of purest joy; driven mad
Tearing at their hair and flesh, screams announcing its rebirth
It cast its eyes west, as if it's gaze focused on a desire
And it's head turned, toward sea once more
Almost reluctant to leave its womb, cold embrace
It's mouth bellowed, no earthy sound
Tentacled fingers around its mouth, stretching; writhing
That sound, not heard but shattering minds
Eyes began to bleed, then run down
Ichor down faces, ruined with black
Ears drained, sick yellow
One by one, individual then group
As this God strode, once more
Dropped, lifeless bodies shone
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
I think things like~
what if every raindrop was
encapsulated in a wax casing?
and what of all that rain
and all those wax casings?
would the wax coagulate
in some weird way
while coolness of clouds cover?
or when heat of sunshine
broke through, would they what?
turn into sloshy slicks of slippery drippings?
would the water molecules
find their way to each other
to form rivers?
and would the wax bank itself
in coagulated forces of gravity
and magnetism yet to be understood?
what if all the wax was spectrum sensitive?
and its rainbow reflective
properties sponged twisting
of tentacled wonder from
every imaginable surface
what then?
would all dullness slip away?
or would we all be burdened
by a way of life unknown
at this juncture of elemental uncertainty?
I stare into the filmy rainbow swirls
of gasoline floating on puddles
and wonder
when will crude discovery of
what a waxy mess we've made
of petrol dependence finally
plop upon us?
when and why?
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
Ringed of stone
Dark rocks from another time
Broken, shattered, replaced
By not by gnarled hands
Hands, uncalloused,
Delicate fingers, dragging
Unholy stones, upturned
Graves of creatures
Not meant to
Draw breath
Concentric rings, reinforced rituals
Blood, dried and fresh, decorate
Form intricate scrolls,
Forgotten languages
Of Masters, dead and still walking
Hailing dark forces, uncontrolled
Like forcing the seas from the beach
Standing at lowest tide
And bringing creatures
From it's depths
Caught now
In pools
Far from the oceans
Inland and unknown to those
Others, they bend and crawl
Broken of sanity and mind
Tentacled things, fanged
With inhuman strength
A disjointed symphony
From throats, forgotten
Words, gurgling
Choking on no language
For the era of man
Chained by the geometrical
Patterns they don't understand
They cringe and prostrate
In lies to which should
They but lunge, lashing out
Powers which slash through
Minds, bringing insanities
Destroying any that they touch
But rituals, forgotten even by them
Elders, Masters worship, Star Gods
Brought, mindless, from the Beyond
Shipwrecked in our oceans of Earth
Slumbering, shambling Others
Slaved to their wills, games
Bringing to bended knee
Captured to barest glimpse
Minds broken, eternal youth
Women as vessels to hybrid life
Birthed children, monstrosities each
Chained, insane, locked to those
Dark rocks, their shards show
Surrounding prisons ages, old
Centuries untold, legends, mythical
Undulating naked bodies, show
Dancing, sexually unbound
Oiled, aflame though unburnt
Soaking, basking in their power
As their scream break, carry the night
Quaking the Earth, shattering clouds
They seek return, the stars, the seas
To feast, again, on salted flesh
To worship their kraken
Father of them all
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
A great bubble rose
Rose, but didn't break
From the depths of the salty sea
I watched it from my sprire
As it had, every day
Rose, but never broke
Like giant fish, or beast
Pushing up from the deep
The water displaced, rose
As spectators stood
Then, daily spread norm, wain
Novelty lost, still it rose
Until all but I, left their ways
Secluded, solitary towered life
Stranded here, I watch it rose
The boats of this town
Sail around the great dome, rose
Set to fish, bring them home
But today, I saw, surprised
A horror, take ship, rose
Splintering rails, plank and souls
A creature from beyond
Nightmarish, tentacled, darkness
The sea, arose
I called for my son,
Bring warning, rose
The town, the town!
But my son, ignored
Too bothered by elderly blood, rose
I shuttered my window,
Lighning broke, blossomed
A cracked sky, rose
As the creature, turned to Bon Homme
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
I locked my heart fathoms beneath the waves
assuming that it would be lost to time and pressure
Bewildered, I could not fathom how you carried it to shore
but was elated
at the thought that someone found worth
in what I had mournfully discarded
For some time since then we sailed on a ramshackle ship
my heart was still shackled and guarded
but on occasion I agreed to let it out
as it bled abundantly, thinking this sacrifice
could keep our sails on course
Of course this was only a cathartic ritual.
I often wonder how long the leviathan followed you
How long you keep it under your control as it stalked below?
When did it start to rebel?
When did you realize you were not its master?
When did it realize?
The attacks came slowly, as if it was testing our reaction
Gradually ramping up in intensity and intimidation
The first time it threw me overboard
I swore I'd never set sail again
and now I struggle to count how many times
I've plunged into the depths
We washed ashore
We rebuilt
but it became painfully apparent this beast would not relent.
At times I was not convinced this prowling menace is after you at all,
other times I think its end goal is to devour us both
The only conclusion I could be sure of
is that I could no longer risk the open seas.
In an act of desperation I've stolen back my heart and fled to the desert.
I contemplated not telling you
but just as this tentacled monstrosity does not seem able to leave you, so it is with me
Should you find your way to this desolate and desperate refuge I've chosen, I will welcome you with open arms
and pray that the creature could not follow where the waters do not flow.
May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 4:49 PM UTC