Boyd E. Pearson

Swim with the fishes
Those concrete boots.
Though ocean be my heritage
Scales a birth rite.
Mother a whore to the seas
Father blind humanity.
The waves wait silently
For the ocean's master -- Dagon.

II

Bullet to the back of the head
Brain coated floor.
Flesh a puppet I wear
A tool of my occupation.
Another dead messenger
Not so the message.
The mail always gets through
So does Nyarlathotep.

III

Take me out
Dinner it was not.
Tommy gun for flowers
Back alley restaurant.
Warmed by lead
Bubbles burst.
Nothing lasts forever
Except Yog-Sothoth.