Cthulhuoid Dreams
by Brian Kunde
There are slimy, squiddy gods
Ensconced in esoteric places,
Who might take over our bods
And then transmogrify our faces
To look like frogs or isopods
And other Theosophic races,
But now they’re caged, against all odds,
And can't get on our cases.

It’s dangerous to bring them
Out of isolation static,
The jerks who hope to spring them
Are decayed and quite erratic,
With mad lullabies to sing them,
And bad secrets in the attic.
Their obsessions always ding them,
Though—it’s almost automatic.

First they go through all the stages
Of Lovecraftian obsession
Which they scribble down in pages
Of neurotic true confession;
They seek tomes that bring on rages
Or demonical possession
That in general engages
Atavistical regression.

Far better not to muddle
Into matters so mind-bending,
Lest you melt into a puddle,
Or be dealt a death unending—
the fate of all who fuddle
In what's past our comprehending,
So be careful what you cuddle,
And beware of doom descending.
* * * * *

Cthulhuoid Dreams

from Adrift in the Wreckage : Poems, 1st ed., Dec. 2011.
An earlier version was posted to the Yahoo group
d for de Camp, Feb. 10, 2010.

1st web edition posted 7/22/2013.

Published by Fleabonnet Press.
© 2010-2013 by Brian Kunde.