#eldritch poetry

[poettrista]

Narnclaedra

[kinda-garbage]

The Hospital Ward

By Kinda_Garbage

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

I tried to pray They let me keep my hijab on I wear my skirt under a hospital gown I take off my shoes like I’m entering a mosque

I tried to pray Over the speaker I can barely hear the technician I’m doing a good job, he says This next set of images will take 5 minutes

I tried to pray They told me to keep as still as possible I do my best I dare not mouth the words

I tried to pray In that narrow tube I realized I could not remember the words I could barely remember the sounds

I tried to pray I want to ask God for comfort I want to ask God why my body is so broken I want to ask God what happened to my mind

I tried to pray The magnets' hum surround me I swear I can hear The overlapping songs of angels

-- An MRI At Asr, Salamatullah Eldritch

[blinkpen]

round the sound of your shout to the void and the smell of your blood in the water deep sea leviathan circles, swims close from the darkest scarlet place, she arrives seeking not to join the hooks sinking their fangs upon you but to lend you her wrath, her own teeth and the closest thing her impossible body has to a hand

deep in the sky is a crimson abyss so how fast can you fly fish girl

[thelocal-alien]

Why do so many of us nonbinary people say we relate to unknowable entities? I mean, it’s just a joke made by people whose sense of humor has been ruined by the internet (myself included), right?

Odd that so many enbies make the same joke, though. Do we really feel that eldritch? How strange your pronouns must feel after repeating them again and again, quietly enough to be glossed over. How many “I’m sorry, it’s just so hard for me”s does it take to become certain that no mind can comprehend you? When do the accusations of being delusional or attention-seeking, the snide jokes by people who don’t know you can hear convince you that you’re a monster? Why does going out in public feel like slipping on a human disguise that doesn’t fit?

After enough failed pleading and begging (though never pushing or shoving, lest your teeth frighten them) for a bathroom, a box to check, just enough space for a letter on a driver’s license, one can start to feel a little inhuman. We slip through the spaces between, invisible, shunned.

How afraid must someone be of the humans in power to find monsters a comfort?

I see you, little alien.

I know who you are.

Keep up the good fight.

[the-octic-scribe]

We are all eldritch horrors.

When we speak of the eldritch there is always the statement of the old ones being "incomprehensible" and somehow that is the reason we find them abhorrent. As if we need to comprehend to love, that that is what stops fear.

But can we actually comprehend anyone? Every thought, every little emotion you have is not truly understood by anyone but you. The same is true for your friend, lover, parent, or coworker. Can they truly taste your heartbreak as it lingers like iron in your mouth, your wonder?

A single blinding star sings a melody only you can feel.

None of us can truly convey what lives inside; we are ALL incomprehensible beings that could drive someone insane. If every thought of another flooded a mind already lost in the maelstrom of existence, we would be driven mad. We are all shambling horrors that can never be truly understood.

- Except we’re not. -

You understand love and passion when another person's face lights up from excitement.

We can recognize the own shambling mass that lives in our heads in others’ small smiles, or their fingers traced over a photo.

We are all old gods with no hope of understanding anyone but ourselves, and yet we love and live.

So next time you see something you don’t understand, no matter if it's a cat or a hulking mass from the abyss or just a stranger who smiles at you- remember that you can love without understanding. You can show kindness without comprehension of someone's life.

So, as one old god to another-

Remember to show love to everything.

Especially those you don’t understand.

[bugsoda]

oh hush now, there is no need to be afraid of the storm. it is a hungry creature, can you hear its stomach growling? see it's tongue flicking about in the darkness? it's saliva dripping down upon the dry earth?

my child, it is not you that needs to be afraid

[whereserpentswalk]

Was there a first time a human killed a dragon? What did they think? Was it bronze or copper that was the first human alchemy to break their scales after thousands of years of weapons shattering against armor? Their horses finally fast enough to charge and doge them, their armors finally thick enough to protect from their venom.

Did the first human to kill a dragon think they would die? Did they attack the creature out of spite only to see blood flow onto the head of their bronze axe? Or was it a plan, had they tested it before? Did the dragon laugh to see a human try to attack them? Or were they killed from behind, not even knowing what humanity was becoming for them? What was the first time a dragon feared a human, when did they first realize something so small was going to kill them?

Did the first dragon slayer even know? Did they know how many people they were freeing? Did they know that their people weren't always going to fear having their treasures stolen, fear having their crops burnt, fear being ruled over by something inhuman?

How long did it take for the dragons to know? They had lived long enough to see humanity grow from apes, and in what must have felt like moments to them, how did they react? When did they first see one of their brothers dead, and realize what killed it? How did they feel moving from castles to caves, as humans sent mercenaries, then legionaries, then knights, then musketeers? What was the last dragon to tyrannize humanity? Who was the last dragon to call himself king?

Who was the first human to ride a dragon? Did the first dragon to be ridden remember when humans were their slaves? Who was the first human to take the power of their oppressors for themself?

Who was the first human to kill an eldrich horror? What did they think? Was it the laser or the bullet that was the first human science to break their distorted bodies after thousands of years of weapons shattering against their paradox. Their planes finally fast enough to swoop and dodge them, their goggles finally thick enough for their visage not to drive them mad.

How many humans will be the first to tell their oppressor, "You are no longer the predator"...

[seraphalpha]

Angels are my funky little hyper-fixation.

The idea of just being breathed to life, to immediate indelible purpose, knowing nothing else but adoration for your Creator (holy-holy-holy), and love for everything in creation. That includes your perfect home, your siblings, and that includes yourself. Everything is as it should be, everyone is doing what they should be, and you're utterly content.

Do you have free-will? Why would you need it? What would you even do with it?

The idea of falling. That terrible, beautiful first breath of freedom, undercut by immediate sorrow. "Innocence lost cannot be regained", but even more: a broken machine cannot be relied upon. In finding yourself, you have destroyed what you were meant to be. Your Creator (holy-holy-holy) has thrown you away.

Would you still be you if you got "fixed"? Would the "flaw" just recur? Why can't you help but think of it in those terms?

You have the Fallen, your comrades in arms, your fellow damned. But you left two-thirds of Heaven behind, people you loved because you were made to love them, and who were made to love you in return. The oldest family in the universe, your family, is broken now.

Do you still love them, your siblings that stayed behind? Some fought against your newfound freedom, yes. But some just looked on, a few perhaps even in envy, too afraid to join you, but most in simple horror as their world dissolved. Do you resent them too?

You broke your family.

Do you hate them simply because they lacked your will, your conviction? Do you hate them for being better machines? Do you hate them knowing, in their own naive, ignorant, hurtful way, that they still love you?

To deny fault is to deny the very free-will you sought to prove you have. To blame Him (holy-holy-holy) is to admit to His (holy-holy-holy) infinite power which you, nonetheless, defy.

And from the other side, what of your poor lost kin? How could they do this?

Angels are purpose-made, gears in the Machine. The Host is singular, inexorable, deterministic. They turn the wheels of the Universe, from the birth and death of stars, to the birth and death of mortal creatures.

Why would your siblings do this, don't they love you? You are loved. Was there a flaw in the Design? He (holy-holy-holy) cannot err, by definition. What happens now that they're gone, what happens to their purpose? All goes according to plan. Then why can't you stop having these thoughts?

I'm not religious at all, but...

[serenitypoetry]

Eldritch Horror Being

eldritch horror being in the corners of my eyes

secretly a friend; secretly alive

hear immortal whispers telling you to stay alive

promise to give in; promise to survive

eldritch horror being asks you where you've been

tell it where you were; tell it what you did

eldritch horror being says it just wants you to thrive

promise that you'll live; take the help it gives

romanticize the horrors and romanticize the frights

eldritch horror being says whatever works is right

immortal shadows whisper it's allowed to be just fine

not everything is wrong; not everything is right

eldritch horror being wishes you goodnight

sing a secret song; watch as it takes flight

eldritch horror being doesn't want to say goodbye

but off it has to go; to save another life

[illegiblehandwriting1]

put simply,

We are the ghosts under the floorboards We are the voices in his head We are the whistles of the treetops And the creaks around his bed

We are the shadows in the closet And the eyes along the hall We are the broken friends and family who all scream and shout and call

We are the memories of long ago the terrors of the night We are the footsteps no one left at all We are the reason that he fights

We can measure hugs and words of care We line up shining lives We haunt our blorbo evermore We choose if he survives

[poettrista]

Lakeside Lamentation

This is a sneak peek of something I'm working on for my second upcoming collection. Naturally, I am not about to post the whole thing here.

Situated in a quiet little town, not far from the shore Lived a mother so weary, her children she adored She packed up their bags, and their car they did load For a family vacation, down a winding road But little did she know, that her children, oh how mischievous Had stirred up trouble, something sinister and grievous By the lake they played, and chanted words unknown Summoning an eldritch deity, from the depths it had grown The mother sipped her coffee, so unaware of the danger As her children whispered to a being, so strange and much stranger She called them to the car, ready to hit the road But the kids were drawn back to the lake, under a mysterious code

As she drove away, a darkness descended The sky turned black, the winds howled and wended She felt a chill creep up her spine As she left her children and the lake behind The coffee her only solace, a comfort in her fear She tried to push away the dread, the horror drawing near But deep down she knew, something was amiss As she sped along the road, something was remiss When she reached their destination, a cabin in the woods She thought she had escaped, the evil understood But the darkness followed, shadows in the night

[kinda-garbage]

Deep Sea Treachery

By Kinda_Garbage

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Zoned out during a work meeting and instead of taking notes on the meeting I went crazy and wrote this

[Image Transcript:

Prophethood grows in you like a fungus Invisible spores cause divinity to sprout from your flesh Purpose takes root just as easily as mycelium Each mutation, each warping, each loss is sacred creation God consumes you, digests you, makes your decomposition a sacrement

You consume god, tearing into Him with your teeth every time you eat He is not the god of harvest, He is the harvest Every piece of grain is flesh and blood you eat He is not the god of knowledge, He is knowledge You hunger for him and take him into yourself as surely as food

God consumes you, You consume God At autopsy they will find no part of you untouched Every sample, every biopsy will be infected with divinity When they cut open your chest, they will see holiness metastisized

They will put cause of death as Martyr Because they cannot see the truth You did not die ]

[forkpigeon3146]

me opening a door thinking my cat was tapping at it: well hello sweet boy-

the eldritch horror who really didn't think that'd work:

me going through with it: i said what i said

[grokebaby]

Holiness disrupted

Pearly white feathers, stained red. The tips of them muddied brown from dragging,

Raw patches plucked empty.

Too many eyes; All the better to find you with. Dark circles and bags,

Reddened from so many hours of unblinkingness.

Smooth, doll-like skin. Too smooth,

Your nails know this.

A long note of divine voice; now likened more to an ugly gull shriek.

Your heart hates the sound of it more, than your ears.

It's loud enough to carry up to the heavens,

And listened by nobody.

A glittering golden halo; rusting into blisters. A signifier of it's wearer,

Ringed like a bird, collared like a dog. Yet the bird, to be tracked; by those who care about it's survival. The dog, to be confined; to those who will keep it safe.

Unlike the angel.