PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The sand ascended,

A whirlwind closeby.

In the tomb,

Where the dead were lain to rest.

From this storm raised,

The aspect of Anubis.

The god that attends the dead,

To the hereafter...

With robust voice raised,

He let me know:

"Dead you go!"

My destiny written down.

A day hereafter,

In normal life;

I almost drowned in the lake,

Death had grabbed me tight.

Nyarlathotep knocked on the door,

An Anubis-guard opened it evermore.

Motioned us to get inside,

To Nyarlathotep it was no surprise.

He motioned me to sit at the table,

With the crystal tabletops.

And he went to the book shelves,

To get me a huge volume.

He smashed it on the table;

It was blue and covered in thorns.

I opened the cover;

And saw organs inside.

The text I could not read;

And I did not understand.

But in the back of the book

I found a crystal key

And it fitted in the slot

Of the tabletop.

Now I could watch the book

As if a movie on screen.

Again I saw organs

And horses

And the galaxy...

When I closed the book

Nyarlathotep put it away

In a strange place

Under his cloak.

As if it was an organ.

And for the last time on screen

I viewed a heart in darkness

Was the book his heart?

Was this a Necronomicon?

I was at home,

relaxed and alone.

I lay sleeping,

the darkness was reaping.

Then I heard the sound;

crushed windows all around.

Everything was destroyed,

of glass everything devoid.

Then I heard Warhead at my door,

personification of Balthazor.

The glass broke into shivers,

splinters were in my flesh delivered.

In spite of my fear,

at Warhead I did appear.

And tried to calm him down,

and he stopped throwing things around.

Everything seemed to be well,

Warhead had changes of mood, I can tell.

And Lays-chips was lying there,

I wouldn’t touch it, I declared;

cause it belonged to Warhead.

Hours later, Warhead came down;

in his anger still drowned.

He wanted his stuff,

but I knew he would bluff.

Always talking about guns,

but the true deed he shuns.

Though I was confused,

his stuff was unused.

Is what Ramses did tell,

and so ended this hell...

Warrior Hero of Turan,

Semi-mythical ruler.

Also an ancient kingdom,

Bordered by the Oxus River.

Making war against the Persians, he lost;

But he is remembered by most!

Charms and Spells,

Misfortune tells.

Make something disappear,

No regret, no tear...

Magical inverted triangle,

Inscription do bear.

One letter dropped,

Forming a triangle.

Abracadabra it is!

Warding off the plague,

Corruption of a phrase.

Quintus Serenus Sammonicus;

Inventing the erase.

"Abhadda kedhabhra",

Disappear at once!

"Abreq ad habra",

Hurl your thunderbolt

Even unto death.

Abraxas: The Gnostic God;

Evil Eye! O, Charm of mine!

Corruption of a Demon,

Of long-forgotten history.

Hobgoblin word,

Puritan Minister Increase Mather.

Crowley believed else,

Possessing great power 

In Abrahadabra itself!

Abra suddenly appeared;

He knocked on my door.

But I was startled,

So I slammed the door.

Later I went into the hallway,

And there he called me bitch.

I thought he would beat me up,

But he turned his back and went away.

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born,

But I was repelled.

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.

They left each other fast,

'Cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'Cause I ran away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...

What happened was unforeseen,

'Cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...

I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.

Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

I couldn't take it anymore.

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I buyed a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

Have to be a little child from my father,

Have to obey Cthulhu evermore.

And all bad things turned into dust,

By my evil and good Father.

Voice and silence are words
But effects the wheels of feelings
Silence may kill the patience
Voice may hurt the heart's balance