north

Yidhra

Folder: 
Cthulhu Mythos

The most Ancient Gods,

Prototypes of all the Gods,

Worshiped before humanity;

And all came from one source.

The source is called Mlandoth,

All Gods are manifestations of Him.

 

Ngyr-Khorath, the mad and monstrous thing

Whom haunts this region of space

Before the solar system was formed,

Is a local eddy of Mlandoth's Race.

 

Yidhra, who was born with the life of Earth

Intertwining with all Earthly life-forms,

Teaches reverence for Mlandoth.

Before death was born, She was born;

For untold ages there was life without death,

Life without birth, life unchanging.

 

But at last death came; birth came;

Life became mortal and mutable,

And thereafter fathers died,

Sons were born, and never the same.

 

The slime became the worm

And the worm the serpent,

The serpent the yeti of the mountains

And the yeti became man.

 

Only She escaped death,

Escaped birth.

But She could not escape change,

For all things will change;

The trees of the North must shed their leaves.

 

She learned to devour the mortal creatures;

From their seed to change Herself,

And to be as all mortal things,

Living forever without birth, without death.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Cthulhu Mythos Deity Yidhra.

"The Crack Baby Blues"

I sing "The Crack Baby Blues" with an invisible choir,
sharing "notes" of reckless desire.
We formed an alliance in 84',
but when 85' hit,
you abruptly became the streets biggest "Hit".
No longer a secret,
you depleted families,
that were once considered complete.
Once considered unique.

Visiting us from a foreign land,
your arrival was not by chance,
or an accident.
A Government experiment gone wrong,
this song has a deadly "Remix".
A "Fix" that weakened an entire generation.
This Nation,
prompted another Civil War.
Ghetto Poems,
scream echoes of pain,
that flow through the veins of addicts.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues".
Yellow brick roads of tragic addictions.
Lives that once mimicked art,
now a beautiful picture departed.

Ten minutes of Euphoria,
transform bright souls,
into "Night Of The Living Baseheads".
The poor hide from life's mirrors,
leaving their souls faceless.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues".
Harmonizing in pain,
psychosis becomes a reality.
Hallucinations,
are shared with the audience.
They clap in unison.
Numerous "Fatalities"

People yearn for an "Encore".
The "Fiends" shake for more.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues" with a tear.
Each year,
we're told to forget about this era.
Rich Americans,
exit the auditorium together,
"humming" enough time has passed,
this is no excuse for poverty and crime.
Tell that to Ronald Reagan and Oliver North,
while young men and woman continue dying,
or being sent up North.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The 1980's

View tonyhanespoetry's Full Portfolio

My Compass

Folder: 
2011

You are my one true north
No matter where you are
That is my north
You are my north star

I suppose that it has
Always been this way
I'm sure I always
Want this to stay

I can always find you
Just follow my heart
And there you are
No matter where I start

Even if you are south of me
I follow my heart, not my brain
And I always end up at your side
Its something I cannot explain

But I know I don’t want
It to ever change
Don’t you know that my
Feelings have been rearranged?

Yes, they have and put
You at north, this I know
And I think everyone can see
Because I always let it show

~Chrystal
Written on
December 22, 2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This one is for Tom Neville. I had this thought as I was walking to see him the one day, it was a thought that stayed in my head, even a few days later. So I wrote it out, and it came to be what you see. I love him with everything that makes me, me.