Poetry Arena

Cthulhu is good
Cthulhu is great
Cthulhu will eat
All you stupid ingrates

*Grumble grumble grumble*

Another night with a bottle of scotch
Another day clawing at the wall
Another night wondering why
Another day to feel your passion die
Another night to study your chains
Another day to wonder how they will break

*Whine whine whine*
beautiful, simply beautiful, Xev! :):)
especially the last line
you are my poetry god, Xev
I'll sacriface a virgin in your honour

*Xev faints and hits the floor with a sound "thump"*

Thanks Avatar.

And just to push it a little *Cringes* Please don't hurt me, if it's really bad you can just commit seppuku..

I shouted questions at the dead
Their skulls grinned back at me
And whispered the secret into my ears
Until the silence shouted back the reply
That up to now I never heard
So through fire and joy I make my own way
In solitude unopposed
No longer disciple and never slave


I shouted questions at the dead
Their skulls grinned back at me
And whispered the secret into my ears
Up to now I never heard
Until the silence shouted back an answer
So through fire and joy I make my own way
No longer disciple and never slave

I really prefer the latter, but the first works better on a stylistic level.


Avatar, I know this is pushing it but......Brittany Spears is a virgin.....

Just a hint. ;)
Avatar, I know this is pushing it but......Brittany Spears is a virgin.....
you want me to buy that :bugeye: OK :D

btw- I posted your poem about Cthulhu in one christian board in Latvia. They didn't appreciate it:( lol :p

never slave - agree
Avatar: It's a win-win situation:

1: You've sacrificed a virgin and there's no more Britany Spears.

2: You've sacrificed a non-virgin and there's NO MORE BRITTANY SPEARS!:D
In case you're not checking my thread.

The Garden

I'll meet you in the garden, by the apple tree.
I'll pick for you a fruit so sweet, it's taste will set you free.
And I'll drink in of you're beauty, as you drink in of me.
And I'll get down on my knees, and kiss your lips gently.
And I will feel inside of you, if you'll hold onto me.
And we'll be joined together, for all the stars to see.
In the garden of Eden, by the apple tree.
Good Poetry everyone!

Xev, I liked your poetry. It was very descriptive.

I'm not as good at describing things or telling stories, so I like this thread.

Who knows...maybe I'll figure it out!

BTW...Britney Spears a virgin? Yeah right!
More Cthulhu poetry:

Aeons deathlike sleeps in His prision palace
Aeons to dream meditating vengence
Aeons His magician's wisdom growing stronger
Aeons Lord Cthulhu sleeps no longer

Stars align perfect astrological permutation
Stars correct for our conjuration
Stars your home of ages old
Stars bless the efforts of your loyal cult

Awake Cthulhu, reward our tears
Awake Cthulhu, to confirm our fears
Awake Cthulhu set the world in flames
Awake Cthulhu unleash a revalation of lust and pain

R'yleh where Cthulhu reigns dreams His dreams
R'yleh His city of architecture strange and obscene
R'yleh submerged for aeons now restore
R'yleh arises from the ocean floor

(This is rather an ongoing effort.)
Avatar sacrifices a virgin

btw- I can't write poetry in months from late October to late March :(:(
it's the damn weather - can't write anything when it's cold :mad:
Looking through eyes I don’t feel
Perhaps the winter moves in freezing
I remember the Madeira sand slowly falling down from rocks as water gushes into holes
Warmth of it melts the ice as I start blinking, not touching my heart
Sun comes up and dances on the cloth, just as dusk covers the green trees.
All your base are belong to us.

The abundance of Cthulhu in this topic would accordingly seem to make it the suitable thread.
- - - - - - - - -

TYPE: lyric
STYLE: camouflaged free verse
ALLEGORY: cult of personality, celebrity worship, etc.

Till Animation Reappears

Your ending triggered a doomsday birth,
A grave spasm of the tortured Earth.
Rupturing open an arid plain,
Baring deep entrails where the fiends reign.

You're shot in the head,
But don't be misled.
Your body feels cold,
But the twelve aren't sold.
Hibernation is a refuge trait.

So while custom would rush to cremate...
It's better to watch, better to wait.
Bear the shrill silence for months or years
Till animation reappears.

Fortune is a water skipping stone.
We sink or bounce by how we are thrown.
Except you cheat like a flying fish,
Breathing below whenever you wish.

One cadet can spread
What the master said.
One crew can rebuild
What before was killed.
Seed is that next tree ramming the gate.

Though the victors rush to celebrate...
It's better to watch, better to wait.
Bear the shrill silence for months or years
Till animation reappears.

Your beginning was an extinction
That nurtured a fylfot distinction.
Your epicenter drew them like sleaze,
Thick as sickle and hammer disease.

Oh, could they succumb
To their marching drum?
Are cog suicides
For clockwork that hides?
Don't hold hope robots self-detonate.

Albeit upbeats may bite the bait...
It's better to watch, better to wait.
Bear the shrill silence for months or years
Till animation reappears.
Last edited:
STYLE: camouflaged free verse
ALLEGORY: manipulation, conspiracy ambience, paranoia, psychosis, etc

Stirring Tea

Down the hallway, a clique is waiting;
Their cautious whispers now abating.
What it bodes is wilted witchery;
You and I have purged the mystery.

The misdeeds exhumed by spelunking thought;
Drugs prescribed and experts bought.
So many weeks since truth was last sighted...
Are you being gaslighted?

We have become this stronghold's creature,
Haunting its rooms, a phantom feature.
Stranded in the panoptic tower:
Seeing all, but deplumed of power.

That coiled, paranoid rattling in your mind:
Was it an uplifting find?
Doubt is what this partnership invited:
Are you being gaslighted?

At sly slants and edges their jaws lurk,
Squeezing souls like tightening gearwork.
Calm your unease, the guests will arrive
To leech us pale until we're alive.

Was it impish wit that scored a titter,
Making them dicey, bitter?
A playhouse built by risks that collided:
Are you being gaslighted?

One exit path we cannot follow,
Where betrayed promises hang hollow
Like shivering slabs of butchered beef:
A wall where they brushed the new motif.

Bundles of cryptic papers are implied
To be softly ratified.
Ornamental lies have been decided...
Are you being gaslighted?

Seaside, there crept a wriggly design,
Fattened on sweet spite and salty shore.
It curved through garden and prickly vine
To set a springe for the herbivore.

"Still buying pity with your loud conceits?
Our goodwill veils no deceits."
Deep, deep in what the sewer has guided,
Are you being gaslighted?

Last edited:
STYLE: camouflaged free verse
ALLEGORY: simulation theories, idealism, oneirocosmism, BIV, etc

Sleeping Beauty Sublime

Over sanctum walls,
Down deep hallowed halls,
They creep like figures so cancerous.
Invaders surround
A body spellbound.
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

When a Maker beams,
Asleep in its dream,
As a maid fair, that's precarious!
Her guards ascetic
Are quite pathetic.
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

To the royal court,
Fleeing monks report:
We bring ill word, do not quarter us!
The Doom Sect has seized
What cannot be freed.
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

Their tidings dismay.
Advisors give way
To the monarch who will sanction thus:
Forces I shall send
To oust the madmen.
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

Up flowing spring rills,
Up wooded foothills,
Trudging loftily the rangers must.
By midday, they hear
Lurking zealots jeer:
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

The fanatics warn
Like stoic firstborn:
This prize we claim, do not anger us!
Or we shall decrease
The avatar's peace...
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

King's agents prevail,
Seek the nonpareil,
Find a bottled form which answers thus:
Sleep no longer binds
This high temple shrine.
The girl in the jar is dangerous.

Skies are imploding,
Landscapes are folding,
A mind in a jar is dangerous.
O the world is due
Its doomsday brew, BUT...
Is woken god a mere stranger "us"?

TYPE: lyric
STYLE: camouflaged free verse
ALLEGORY: personal loss, sentimental attachments, etc


Weeks of creaking timbers,
A voyage laden with rue.
Frayed logbook remembers
Why emptiness haunts the crew.

Breaking ribs cracked the night,
It lurked muted like a snake.
Damning haze come dawn's light,
I'm still wrecked upon this ache.

Treading through a thicket,
Collecting afternoon rain.
Strange fruit but I'll pick it,
The poison might dull the pain.

Clinging without reasons,
Ragged sails flutter and break.
Ebbing through the seasons,
I'm still wrecked upon this ache.

Stranded on a pale sea,
Farther than the Queen's domain.
Blurred ghosts can't rescue me,
In our ruins I'll remain.

Hollowed by grating winds,
Wobbling in Poseidon's quake.
A toll that never ends,
I'm still wrecked upon this ache.

A modern sonnet in roku haiku (hai=lung, ku=phrase)

The plea of Beibionn

You can have your magic beans Jack
your children are hungry and we need the cow back.

The lack of just terms and equitable or fair pacts
expose all crooked beanstalks to concerted attacks.

Unless obsessive cycles are stopped in their tracks
our towns will again be as flat as tacks.

You have been too trusting Jack
your children’s futures remain black
while current problems compound through lack.

Struggle earnestly against the pack
repudiate rights to depreciatingly retract
as giants fortress lie ripe for sack.

For only fair shares of the golden goose Jack
will save beanstalks and giants from the axe.
The Green Knights Claim

Noble sirs, exercise thy renowned might
honour thine agreement with the green knight
tis his by right.

Do not be unnerved
justice shall be served
while accolades are undeserved
and truthful valour is reserved.

Qualms about the justice of fate
carry no weight on this judgement date
pious fervour too late.

Come now and cement the agreed pact
that ye have enacted through use of his multifaceted axe

Once ye have availed of its plentiful resource
there is nay recourse
ye have chosen thine course.

Short version

For all that amounts
make good honest accounts
lest ye could lose more than just lucky underpants.
The Eternal Battle of the Wits

Quarter wits view things from one perspective alone
while half wits see things in two colour monochrome.

Three quarter wits see things in a third way
while few can see all four colours anyway.

Some entirely witless unfortunates
devoid of any original thoughtfulness
champion judgements made through three quarter wits cautiousness.

Witless advice from three quarter wits is unfit
when it recommends promoting quarter wits, to wit.

Soon all the half wits appear very blue
only one shade of colour when previously there were two.

Chaos is purely nature in action
first find that correct butterfly
and you can make anything happen.

Anti Chaos

Anti Chaos is also quite easy to do
first find that correct butterfly
and then say boo!


Time goes on both ways forever
despite all mortal human endeavour
infinity will be reached, never ever.

The Arc

The covenant lies broken, they worship the arc
behold in all glory, the lord of the dark.
TYPE: lyric
STYLE: camouflaged free verse
ALLEGORY: Blend of both cynicism and the age-old tactical strategy of exploiting humanitarianism / altruism and social utopian aspirations as a facade for power acquisition. Facilitating individual ascension, business/industry public image enhancement, and incrementally installing an ideological clique as reigning party or authority. (Or alternatively to the secular method/model, a bogus religious missionary equivalent serving as part of the toolkit for a power grab.)

The Do-gooder Song

I trash capitalism
Every chance that I get.
Adore the irrationalism
Of making money from its threat.

Took up Uncle Karl's profession,
Where saints fight against oppression.
When a slick racket's found,
Don't ever shut it down!

I'm a do-gooder,
Enhancing my career.
I'm a shrewd looter,
Opportunist signaling here!

Just raise the crimson fist,
If toil's at its darkest.
If fairness is dismissed,
Find that hero who's a Marxist.

Nah, you want a rich prog spender,
A resourceful left pretender.
Got plenty for a feast?
Invite my hungry priest!

I'm a do-gooder,
Refining my charade.
I'm a smooth looter,
Soapy crusader on parade!

Need a public spotlight?
Let's posture and inveigh.
Social justice can be brought right
To the Collectivist Café.

Despite my color privilege,
They can't tar this savior image.
We decide what's nice, bad,
Guilty as my white dad!

I'm a do-gooder,
Enhancing my career.
I'm a shrewd looter,
Opportunist signaling here!

Like philosopher kings
Tugging where your heart rings,
Give us what moral power brings,
So we can pull your puppet strings!

I'm the intellectual class,
That pretentious celebrity,
Or politician ass.
Better society!

[refrain change, closing]

Any land of cream and sugar
Attracts our pied recruiter.
If a crisis grows acuter
Better call the do-gooder!

Better call the do-gooder!
Last edited: