Many moons ago, four thousand forty-five moons to be more specific, I wrote the following two poems.  During this time I was entrenched in H.P. Lovecraft’s work and I think it shows… too much.  I figured for my own #Throwback Thursday, I’d force myself to share these poems so everyone can see that I wasn’t always this bad, there was a time when I was worse.

*Interestingly enough, the first of the two turned out to be my first official published piece as it was picked up in a national horror magazine.

The Quest…

Like a old tome burned
for fear that its proven authenticity
would shake and shatter the very foundation
of the beliefs that man bases his entire
existence upon,

the spectacular visions and fantasies
I held so dear in my youth
have been scorched to ashes by  science’s
irrepressible need to fling light into every
dark corner of our universe.

As this reckless quest for explanation
continues, I am left awe struck with
the dim thought that soon their heedless
and clumsy search for substance
shall uncover

long forgotten doors which upon their opening
shall unleash a wave of unfathomable
terror that will wash away this tranquil
isle of ignorance into the black seas
of the unknown.

The Quest Continues…

This world is not your old trunk
in the attic, waiting for you to force open
its lid and plunder through
superannuated belongings
you almost forgot you had.

It is more like a room full of dark closets
in which you cannot flick on
a man-made switch to send light sprawling
because maybe the bulbs are blown, or
maybe there is no light meant to shine in them.

But this won’t stop you
because you are an oak and a hell of a lot wiser
than Socrates, who knew nothing.
So you’ll stumble into the closets,
feel your way around, and eventually,

After banging your knee hard on hidden obstacles,
your hand will befall a key to a door
that was never intended to be opened,
then your trivial crusade of curiosity will bring
curtains for the modern tragedy of the human race.