Great Cthulhu

Actually, this was done more in the name of whimsy than any other reason. This was a contest entry on AllPoetry.com and the contest prompt was a question: "Is that a warthog up in that tree?" I wanted to know why the warthog was up in the tree in the first place, this poem is what developed! After I wrote it, I realized that this would make a fun little children's book. (Perhaps another direction for my literature... hmmm.) Do you know anyone that would be interested in doing illustrations?

"Mr. Tree's Famous Tea Parties" On the edge of a glen shadowed by oak and birch, lives Grandest Fellow Tree. A most excellent squirrel (of bushy tail and welcome smile) whose spring time tea parties are attended from far and wide. Acorn scones and cattail tea, spiced with a bit of wild mint; dried huckleberries from last fall tossed with handfuls of pine nuts; wild onions crushed in mushrooms minced and for dessert, his famous honeyed barley! His delicate hand in the pantry is well known from mountains to prairie lake and draws all the woodland folk. Up on the branches of Mr. Tree's oak will be seen the most amazing things. Mr. Crane conversing ** a doodle doo with ** Crow, Junior. Diamond Back Rattler hissing approval for Miss Badger's newest springtime coat, her furry cheeks burning with the joy of being noticed by her favorite guy (she still can't get up the courage to ask for a kiss). Miss Elephant, toenails painted brightest red (for hiding in cherry trees, of course!) relaying the latest gossip with her enormous circle of admirers. Compliments on the food and drink sweet and heavy in the air, everyone gives their gratitude, to their squirrelly host, ever so anxious to please, for to be extended an invitation to next spring's fling, well hey, it's the social do of the year! © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved

I'm very glad you enjoyed it! Thank you!

"Zen Master" Looking through the convoluted machinations of man made megaliths to faith, I see ephemeral shadows of history edited away in the name of religious power. Follow mine eye to forgotten visions... In an ancient cavern dedicated to personal enlightenment sits many figures, contemplating the impossible, attempting to wrap their minds around sharpened corners hidden in the depths of the psyche unplumbed. One such figure is dark of skin, hair and eyes; flashing with piercing intelligence and wondrous kindness. He stands, stretches away countless hours spent with knees knotted together in full lotus, blossoming understanding. A wizened, wrinkled old figure in robes threadbare, notices the change in his greatest student. "Jesu, my child, will you leave us now? Has not my guidance on your path helped you? Has the Za-Zen reached the roots of your soul?" In rich tones of well spoken love, a momentous reply is offered, "Master, it is time to travel home. Your gifts will be shared with all in my crusade against the corruption of heaven's light. I thank you for your time." "Time will not be your friend, child." The newest master bows his head in the acceptance he has always known, worn with the grace of kings. "Yes, time befriends no one. I will make love my constant companion." His heels kick up sacred dust on the way back to Galilee. © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved A contest entry on AllPoetry.com; very loosely based on interpretations from the Gospels of Thomas...

"It's Pronounced: k thoo' loo" Asleep I'm dreaming listening I hear you all, echoing away tingling, tainting my eternal night under oceanic fathoms of darkness crushing downward, relentless pressure forging a nightmare smothering. I won't tell you where, 'cause you really can't come by. Sorry, no visitors. I feel your shadows, glistening by in tantalizing hints of flavor forgotten in the rush to taste. Ah, humanity, I will be a lover for you all. So many souls to sever, savor sweet to crush in tentacled fervor. Please, continue to call out my name on bended knee to wedge my sleep asunder. I just cannot wait to meet you. __ oO /||\ © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved This was written for an assignment- a poem about your online namesake.

How I hear it or my recorded voice? Well, I'm a baritone, I have done some choral singing in the past, but mostly sing along with the radio or cd's. I've done open mic and theater in the past but have difficulties in finding time to do it. I do have a challenge from my mother to record me reading my poetry book (she's losing her sight). I haven't really researched much into it, but I do know that she can play CDs or MP3. So I have a couple of options, I just need to figure out how to record with the mic on my computer.

Now we step into the shadowed realms....mwahahahahaha!!!! "I Hunger" The briefest glimpse winked and washed away by tears of astonishment, beyond the fragile envelope I once called reality, has awoken in the deepest chasm of my desires a hunger. To know what is beyond pale, human sight To know what lies between the shadows of midnight I seek amongst these tomes of ancient hieroglyphics and scrolls of forbidden words scribed in pain and firelight awful names loathsome crawling across my tongue Azathoth, Hastur, Cthulhu I call to any and all and pledge to those who answer- I will give to you sustenance, worship, souls... I will offer up the innocent flesh in a Bacchanalian orgy of sacrilege If only I may have a boon from you. I wish to dip the merest ladle into the ocean of your understanding grant me the knowledge of lenses and prisms to behold sights beyond to veil Show me the pathways to traverse to stars Teach me the sigils seals and mantras to ensure my success Loosen my mind and eyes to understand alien speech and calligraphies Gift me these things and more I will be your vigilant servant for I hunger I need the knowledge I do not have For this, I will ensure your victory O Great Ones, Hear my plea... I've made a deal with a coal black man his accursed eternal crocodile smile charred into the vision of fevered half forgotten dreams. Stroking the spine of a horrid -book- Fearing the building anticipation of opening the cover stained with unknown compounds splattered frenzied rite shaking flames voices raised in triumph tempered with gut loosening fear impossible voices answering echoing from madness twisted ether I open the -book- ancient tanned flesh creaking protest against rest disturbed my eyes creep over the first scribbled runes understanding absorbed page after page days eaten in the rush to know... Now I understand... I hunger. © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved

Enjoyment of poetry is its greatest reward. Thank you! (You got an extra cup of joe for me?)

I'm very glad you enjoyed them!

"C'mon, Trust me" Gaze upon the vast knowledge I've gathered here in easy to digest pamphlets glossy, appealing, pretty pictures of blood pain suffering; all the ultimate sacrifice to save your Soul! (it's bound for straight for hellfire right now, buddy) REPENT! Ignore my rotund figure and greasy hair, see past my reptilian smile and witness the glory of simple faith for simple folks. A complete redemption for you, my friend, all you have to do, is abandon all logic and believe. © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved

Paths to Decide My back ramrod straight head held high in the knowledge my echoing footsteps lead towards the truest path. Chaos, doubt and entropy left sulking on the roadside thumbs outstretched in the hope of another traveler limping along their confusing, twisting byways leading to nothing. I have stepped around such petty distractions littering my path, of no consequence are they. My Will, Intelligence and Reason assist my fingers and toes digging into life's treacherous cliff sides searching for subtle, hidden grips, upward, the journey, onward my journey. My choice correct, once again, setbacks are few and losing strength to hinder my forward sight on horizons (oh, so near!) A vast foundation, built brick by stone, (hard decisions forged in the dark of alone) holding up my soul allows a helping hand, warm with love and respect for my fellow traveler giving just a little of my strength to bolster another's path. "Come, walk with me. Together, we shall bask in logic's light beaming for decisions made well." © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved http://allpoetry.com/poem/show/4032471

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Eleven I catch her eyes daring staring me down over the crystal rim of my glass (nice, rich glass of syrah) I know the look, I know all her looks as she knows mine. She wishes to speak; words important and dear, simmered in the warm cauldron of her heart. -We've been seeing each other for eleven years now. -Hmmm. I know. -Was it worth it? -If I could go back, I'd make you mine a thousand times over and over again. -Hmmm. Yeah, me too. A smile settles in for the long stay on my lips pulling up on the left (to make itself more comfortable) I wink the wink she knows so well and lift my glass on high. -Here's to eleven! © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved

"Tomorrow Waits" Marvel at these midnight delights glimpsed from the corner of your mind's eye. Wake? Not now. Deny morning for dreams. © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved

My apologies, I thought my personality would have been sufficient torture...

You're not supposed to make the crusty welder guy blush!

Now you've made me laugh! Thanks!

Thank you for your compliments! This is in the style of Vogon poetry, an alien race from Douglas Adams' "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" (well known about the galaxy as being the second worse poetry ever created...)

"Opus Magnificent of my Inner and Outer Workings" Oh devious crowel phrum of my siphoning spleen splashing strange chemicals keeping my insides clean Loads of little movements gurgling shabtoo sounds bizarre echolocation of my lunch making rounds Creeping shingles itching requiring a scratch an hour reminding lacktorn quobime to avoid cheese so sour mysteriously found odors wafting from below caressing nostril hairs tangled in waushel ploe © LeRoy James McKitrick, All rights reserved My Ode To Douglas Adams.....a special prize goes to the one who identifies this wonderful style of poetry!

Wow. What a question... Who hasn't influenced my work? Clarke, Heinlein, Herbert, Tad Williams, Scott Hamilton, Barker, Lovecraft, King. I've only recently started working with horror inspired poetry. Most of my writes are social/spiritual commentary, love poems(really?), nature observations and works in abstract imagery.