deepundergroundpoetry.com
More than a Man
`~,,~`
I had drinks with the man
Cognac, Port, whisky, Beer,
Though, seeing him in person
He seemed more than a man
Not of his day
But of days,
Where was his star, for it aligned with mine,
Perfectly
Where was his star,
For it is also now in the house of Mendivil and Lovecraft,
His words heavy, as if a tower of stone
Mine, a tower of flesh and bone
Weak, diseased of shadow and cursed of light,
The Raven, Death came for me, Black Cat, Necronomicon, Cask of Amontillado,
I had drinks with Edgar Allen Poe
His vision and foray into the future is uncannily accurate
Precision, a mind of precision in words and animation of thought;
Every year, for 70 years, upon his Birthday
I visit his grave
Glass of Cognac and 3 black roses
And a kiss, for words upon his grave
Make me holy again
Before ever I was born
We were,
Soul brothers
Writers of the Storm
Written down with fire
```~~~.~~~```
My minds shadow:
Continue in life, though you want to die
Edgar Allen came to me
Bravest thing is to carry on
And upon taking his blade
And cutting long length down mine arm
My quill now dipped in mine blood
Write, in remote viewing
And travel the planes, among stars and arid places you see
Write,
write what future and past, present viewings you see,
For that is my star,
TO WRITE AND RECORD;
`~Forever more~`
Lovecraft came to me
Not as a tower of Gothic stone,
Prophetic wisdom or master of dark arts,
as is Poe to me,
But as the shadow that grows from the other side
Reciting me,
Cthulhu’s chant,
Beyond the Sea
Where the ancient one lies,
The Dreaming dead,
To strip the earth, and all of mankind
And prepare the way for the Elder Ones,
In Aeons mind,
It waits,
And from there,
Lo’ do I see
In almost a vision,
The Mountains of Madness
Where I must make
Beyond the pass of the Ravens
And the house of Mendivil
Unto the tomb of The wolf
And the keeper of the 13 Gates
```~~~…~~~```
It rises, from the grave
I bear witness to all these things
Tines of lightening falling and break from a pitch perfect sky
Darken, red and grey,
Ashen is the face of the wolf
Lightening once again breaks and scars down its face
And the howling voice of its thunder cracks
As it lifts it arms to command
The sleeping dead,
``In wake``
Rise my brethren
And take
Take from the ruling class
What is rightfully ours
All these things have I recorded,
Inked, and dripped from my own blood
Into my sacred text,
My personal Tome
My minds shadow is not my own
```~~~... ... ...~~~```
I had drinks with the man
Cognac, Port, whisky, Beer,
Though, seeing him in person
He seemed more than a man
Not of his day
But of days,
Where was his star, for it aligned with mine,
Perfectly
Where was his star,
For it is also now in the house of Mendivil and Lovecraft,
His words heavy, as if a tower of stone
Mine, a tower of flesh and bone
Weak, diseased of shadow and cursed of light,
The Raven, Death came for me, Black Cat, Necronomicon, Cask of Amontillado,
I had drinks with Edgar Allen Poe
His vision and foray into the future is uncannily accurate
Precision, a mind of precision in words and animation of thought;
Every year, for 70 years, upon his Birthday
I visit his grave
Glass of Cognac and 3 black roses
And a kiss, for words upon his grave
Make me holy again
Before ever I was born
We were,
Soul brothers
Writers of the Storm
Written down with fire
```~~~.~~~```
My minds shadow:
Continue in life, though you want to die
Edgar Allen came to me
Bravest thing is to carry on
And upon taking his blade
And cutting long length down mine arm
My quill now dipped in mine blood
Write, in remote viewing
And travel the planes, among stars and arid places you see
Write,
write what future and past, present viewings you see,
For that is my star,
TO WRITE AND RECORD;
`~Forever more~`
Lovecraft came to me
Not as a tower of Gothic stone,
Prophetic wisdom or master of dark arts,
as is Poe to me,
But as the shadow that grows from the other side
Reciting me,
Cthulhu’s chant,
Beyond the Sea
Where the ancient one lies,
The Dreaming dead,
To strip the earth, and all of mankind
And prepare the way for the Elder Ones,
In Aeons mind,
It waits,
And from there,
Lo’ do I see
In almost a vision,
The Mountains of Madness
Where I must make
Beyond the pass of the Ravens
And the house of Mendivil
Unto the tomb of The wolf
And the keeper of the 13 Gates
```~~~…~~~```
It rises, from the grave
I bear witness to all these things
Tines of lightening falling and break from a pitch perfect sky
Darken, red and grey,
Ashen is the face of the wolf
Lightening once again breaks and scars down its face
And the howling voice of its thunder cracks
As it lifts it arms to command
The sleeping dead,
``In wake``
Rise my brethren
And take
Take from the ruling class
What is rightfully ours
All these things have I recorded,
Inked, and dripped from my own blood
Into my sacred text,
My personal Tome
My minds shadow is not my own
```~~~... ... ...~~~```
Published 25th Feb 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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27th Feb 2016 7:40am
Stunning...lengthy but worth the read, is a gorgeous melting pot of old world myth and legend, but blends into an understanding
Couple of places it could be tightened up but nothing distracted, found meself having to slow down reading this...I just wanted to devour it all
Really beautiful :)
Couple of places it could be tightened up but nothing distracted, found meself having to slow down reading this...I just wanted to devour it all
Really beautiful :)
