The icky sticky squid-man
Squeezed from the water spout
Leapt up my nose and
Sucked my brains right out.
Dug deep inside me
with all his slimy legs
Inside my skull hole
He laid a thousand eggs.
H.astily I traipse “amidst these tombs,” “untainted eye…”
P.reparing the way for the “hidden world of yore.”
Luring lovers in, “lost Nevermore…”
“O’er the midnight moorlands crying,”
Verily to “wreck the solace of the poet’s mood!”
Even now, “drunk of the fog-foetid fountains.”
Cerebrally “reject[ing] the language of the glowing heart.”
Revered and “done are my trials,” “my heart is reposing.”
“All the years of fruitless quest” culminate in this...
For all the “prosy thoughts,” past “ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,” a
“Tale confide[d]” in “the shade of Poe” and I will be forevermore alive.
Quotes from:
“Where Once Poe Walked”/ “Despair”/ “The Bride of the Sea”/ “Fact and Fancy”/ “Nemesis”
Acrostic Homagerie
I had not the mind to tarry long here,
Like the Deep Ones it is an endless existence.
Where within the bowels of debauchery and broken dreams.
It swells like Arkham’s crowded streets - a foul and smelling thing.
I tell of terrors so horrendous that I would be likened to the Mad Arab!
Before me shapes of unimaginable size and complexities
The grinding gears of shiny movable objects so absurd as to twist the very
Cool of mind to do some drug, alas yes perhaps you think me doing so.
No mushrooms or DMT, but visions in a loathsome cry inside of me.
So real in waking life in isolation, quite possibly a manifestation
So somber is my spirit here their faces, many eyes I fear.
The horror is inside my skin like Yiths I feel those thoughts begin.
I felt as if they spoke of me, the voice of my anxiety.
No mortal yet has described it so perfected as I, my tormented mind.
The Dankness that surrounds my soul is ever present
Accursed for all recorded time, is mine, this Antediluvian rhyme.
I long for sweet release from this; abomination that is this:
My Xenophobic tendency~
So back in Boston’s where I’ll be.
Come upon tomorrow,
you'll think back to this horror,
incomprehensible, feel sanity leaving you,
You'll see in a minute,
you can't kill it,
you're insignificant,
under the gaze of the universe you'll crumble,
not even sorrow, a single glance is insanity,
so numb you can't use profanity,
hear them coming for you,
a single thought and you'll perish,
a candle snuffed out in a vacuum,
its light so small, not even noticed when it vanished.
They're coming for you, if they knew you were there,
but you're too small;
they won't make you fall,
you'll do it for them,
such unconscious insanity lingering below the surface,
ready to be exploited by an alien mind.
Restoring far-off times,
With stilted, Georgian rhymes,
He tried repealing Fate
Two centuries too late.
And when he saw the worth
Of poems dead at birth,
He turned his pen to write
Strange fantasies at night.
Then when the morning came,
He signed his unknown name.
To one more priceless page
Forgotten by his Age.
Forgotten, all except
For friends who paid their debt
By publishing him till
His fame no Fate can kill.
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