Oh, Cthulhu!
This comedic musical score/poem is inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's cosmic entity from The Call of Cthulhu.
Oh, Cthulhu!
You intergalactic beast.
You give such wonderful feasts!
My heart longs for your Godly prowess.
I mean power.
No, I mean your—
Wait, do not go!
Please have no fear!
I am merely a Bard singing these melodies
To undoubtedly entertain the masses,
And to those I seek favour from
Such as knowing thy flavour.
Wait no, I am only playing!
But if thy art would take me seriously,
I know a place where we both could satisfy such necessities.
Cthulhu, wait!
I am only joking!
I am a measly Bard singing for money.
My harmonies are a gift.
I seduce like a siren in the seven seas.
I’m into beasts-
AGAIN, I’m kidding!
But won’t you come and play along with me?
Show me different dimensions!
I just want an ounce of your attention.
I thirst for affection.
Please don’t have any misconceptions
About my true intentions.
Oh, you, Godly Cthulhu,
Is my choice for mighty, beastly, and sweaty-
Oh, you’re not leaving.
You’re actually staying.
Well, well, well.
Pleasure to meet you.
I am nothing but a lowly Bard.
But would you like to start this lovely evening
Playing a sensual game of cards
What humans like to call naked poker?
***Fin***
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Hi, I'm CyCy!
Thank you for reading. I truly appreciate it!
This poem/musical score came to me when I am supposed to be sleeping. But you know how that goes! The muses will sing whenever they feel like it.
Anyway, maybe one day, I will have enough to compile into a book.
Shout out to one of my faves, Phoebus Apollo 🖤
Thanks for singing these poems, guiding me with composing music, and showing me different types of art.
A true bestie here. xo
Anyway, come check out my other surreal poem(s) as well:
And my most recent ones: Music To My Ears & Pomegranate Lips
Thank you for being a part of my journey and life. I truly appreciate you all!
---
More stuff from me:
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Anyway, other than me fangirling about anime, books, comics, and shows/movies that I watch, I usually create darker content, whether art, video shorts, or stories. If this is something that you also enjoy, let's be friends :)
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About the Creator
CyCy
The Chaotic Creator | Writer, Poet, & Blogger | Multi-Genre | Beta-Reader
Fiverr: @cyrls_corner
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Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
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