A Poem for Olkoth

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Rolling drumlins, endless

Spiked on small mountains

Bleak, in a shroud of purple twilight

As if centuries had passed since they last saw day

I saw them drawn in an artist’s hand

Scribbled and scratched in black ink

Every peak capped with an observatory, or tower

Valleys filled with tumbling ruins

Open mouths of caverns crawling with demons

Hives of activity in places light never reached

Corpses closed into airless vaults

Restless, assailing each exit

That seemed like it might smell of life

Bloody wristed things they were

Some headless, all eyeless

Grabbing for my hands

Nurses and patients locked in together, forever

From what demonic plane they came

What ultimate grotesqueness

Slithered from the Virgin’s eye

To reanimate the dead

The lines of the artist’s hand were never so deft

As it drew the sliver of moon

Attempting to hold in its breath over the mountains

Never to look upon, nor touch

The hideous ranges below

A land in exile, bleak and forgotten

An endlessly sprawling spread

Towers and ruins and demons like white ants

A wayward promenade

Ode in the dreams of the night.


Because one simply does not dream of a demonic city without writing it down. I am actually pretty stoked (not with my half-assed attempt at poetry, that’s awful) at dreaming about such a thing. It is the winning lottery ticket dream of creative minds. I have to see the accountant this morning, so maybe that will inspire an ending for a short story about this same city. We’ll see.

How about you? Ever dreamt of a demonic city or any other part of the Cthulhu mythos? Do tell.

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About Anneque D. Machelle

Anneque "Dangerpus" Machelle (rhymes with ranger wuss) is a rebel and a rogue from way out west. Strictly banned from interactions with other human beings, she spends her days amongst molluscs, dogs and lizards, whom she counts as her closest friends.

Posted on September 16, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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