With Strange Aeons

This poem is a tribute to the great sci-fi/horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. The world will never see his like again.

Chaos seizures are eaten by Great Old One
In twisted ponytail distractions
Of horror and green flase strums and frets
Touching jacket of chaos in swirling color menace.
Chaos claims fatigue, but it lies for
It is refreshed.
Cthulhu now rises from the depths of R'lyeh.

Humans flee toward plains, escaping burning Hellscapes of reawakened doom
Black and white nightmarescapes of upside-down city
And bleeding crust of gluttonous swallowing sin.
Future in limbo, the lovers clench desperately
While ghost is waiting, watching forgotten memory of time well wasted.
Rotting mold of entropy's victory
But yet there's hope in the wastelands of acid snow.

Yes, hope not hard to see
In magic kaleidoscope
Yellow waltzing away, halting cars with glam glamorous glamour.
Yellow can avoid death gaze of any subaquatic terror
There's yellow defeating dark in color, wearing color
Playing colorfully, yellow serves as antithesis.
And so in beauteous melody, yellow moves Cthulhu back to slumber.