Cthulhu's Grasp
#27 of Poetry
Some poetry I wrote as I was literally driving blindly through a thick haze. This was one of my most challenging and rewarding poems to write, as I wanted 144 syllables; the poem is actually a simple math equation.
I'll also state outright that while I imagined Cthulhu as the beast in the fog, I couldn't help but throw in my own commentary. The entire poem is a subtle stab at the cult of Marxist/leftist ideology that seems to be in vogue.
Cthulhu's Grasp
(07/30/2019)
Fleeing from a monstrous beast, I must escape, lest be deceased, Running through a field of fog, My progress slowed by thickened bog,
Panicking as darkness looms, A feeling of impending doom, I am trapped within a maze, Constructed from horrendous haze,
I have brought this on myself, Read from the book on ancient shelf, Now I'm lost in darkened mist, And with the vile I am amidst,
Blinding smoke does push and pull, With hostile thoughts and voices full, Now the beast is creeping near, Fall to my knees, succumb to fear,
Turn to look, I freeze in shock, Muscles stuck like a rusted lock, Fetid mist slowly unwinds, Tentacles creeping like a vine,
They slither within arm's length, And take ahold with immense strength, With their touch my mind is torn, I'm fused to what was never born,
Nothing known can dull this pain, It eats away, driven insane, Swiftly I have lost my mind, I've now become one of his kind,
Twisted form melts into mist, My spirit bursts like putrid cyst, Follow him into abyss, The old world I no longer miss,
Blindly serve the mind of hive, Great old one now keeps me alive, In his machine I'm but a cog, Ever constructing infernal fog.