Collected writings of CL Fuqua

The Darling

The darling girl who was so sweet to me

Look how quickly she has fallen into misery

Like Babylon’s best harlot for turning tricks

Burning down what we were beyond a fix

My darling girl who has bewitched you to be so petty?

Throwing pity parties all alone with cheap confetti

I would have saved us but you locked me out so tightly

Not even the hand of God can soften you even slightly

Who was she you may ask as I wax on poetically

She’s not much more now than a mere memory, pathetically

Could she haunt me in the afterlife I do inquire

Perhaps more morbid writing she could inspire

My darling girl is dead as history

Her resting place just a mystery

Goodbye to my darling girl the muse of my heartache

Remember in the end it is I that you did forsake

-CL Fuqua

For those who may be unaware I host a podcast called “Christ and Cthulhu” which focuses on the literature of HP Lovecraft, specifically his Cthulhu mythos. I take a unique approach to it as an Orthodox Christian and while it is not a “theological” show by any means as I’m not qualified, I try to show points of intersection or more often diametric opposition in Lovecraft’s fiction and Orthodox Christian teaching. I haven’t uploaded a new episode in the last few weeks as I’ve been someone sapped of motivation due to this extended quarantine. But I will probably be working on uploading the next episode within a week or so. If this sounds like something you may be interested in please tune in! It’s available pretty much wherever you listen to podcasts. Just search “Christ and Cthulhu” and if you enjoy please consider liking and sharing to increase the audience. I will continue writing for this blog as well because as long as there’s music there’s more to spill out of my soul and onto the page.

The Land

I approach your dwelling oh so cautiously while still holding back

You beckoned with promises of living forever and ever without lack

So beautiful is the land you inhabit, warm and full of life

Can I really count myself here among those with no strife?

If you don’t mind may I bleed on your fields of flowers just a bit?

I haven’t healed quite yet and with time I hope to be re-knit

This pristine land with its mountains is so pure and perfect I feel I don’t belong

Yet you tell me come closer still while it is what my soul has wanted for so long

If you let me be imperfect for now I promise I will try to be like you in time

I am stumbling in this daylit harmony after a lifetime in darkness without rhyme

I want you to see me in all my ugly glory, the king upon a throne of shame

I want to be known for my true self yet rise from the waters with a new name

There are hauntings still from the ghosts of my gloomy past

If you hadn’t come the day you did it may have been my last

Yet here I am on my knees surrounded by wild flowers and wind flowing gently on face

May I please weep for I feel the symphony of existence erasing my sins leaving no trace

Do I belong do I belong?

Am I wrong am I wrong?

Let me just lay here among the creatures of the field

I’ll awake to find my bloody wounds have been healed

-CL Fuqua

Misanthrope

“They really are the dregs aren’t they?”

“I mean just look at them. Waddling along like overweight bags of meat and bone without a substantive thought between their misshapen ears. If they moved any more inefficiently they’d be literal zombies. They really start to resemble the undead when they scamper and drool before their almighty television. To watch grown men throw and kick a ball around, to see self-righteous actors doing what they do best; pretend to matter. The cosmos could do us a favor and swallow the whole lot. Let the void come and erase this human mistake from existence.”

You know something? I’ve been listening to you a long time but I can’t remember when I ever achieved anything because of it.

“What’s that?”

It’s just I mean, you judge and mock, criticize and lambaste all the people that come into sight. I’m not saying you’re always wrong either. Sadly and quite disturbingly, you’re often right.

“Then what are you..”

What I’m trying to say is you don’t seem to offer any solutions. No upward movement. “Excelsior”, you know? I’ve done the frightening work of peering down the path you have prodded me on to see where it might lead. It’s a violent sight.

“Welllll, that’s speculation. A lot of it. You’re beginning to sound like these fanciful liberal types, the ones we’ve been seeing destroy everything good around them for years! You said yourself I’m right. Because we’ve established long ago that truth is of ultimate priority.”

Yes I know truth can never be compromised. But I’m not sure you’re revealing or viewing it correctly. It’s truth without mercy isn’t it?

“Mercy? For the reprobate? The degenerate? The irreverent?”

I mean, are we any better?

“Yes!”

I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.

“You’ll see.”

-CL Fuqua

Apotheosis

I knew from the moment I darkened the doorway I found my purpose for being.

For God or the devil who can say? But my vision went red and I was all-seeing.

The churches will shatter at the foundations and the temples will fall.

I will be there to watch the masses flee in terror, reveling in it all.

They will devour each other from within severing communion with a tiny nudge.

Bickering and fighting over the most absurd until they’re neck deep in sludge.

When they realize it will be too late and they will wriggle like worms to death.

All while Hell comes up to swallow them with its putrid burning breath.

The “chosen” will look up to me as they drown in lies questioning why.

Who am I? And why did I come all this way just to watch them all die?

Because I no longer need your sacraments and rituals of life.

My apotheosis is come gleaming in night at the edge of a knife.

-CL Fuqua

Lethargica

Here I sit with my mouth wide open and drooling like an idiot for all to see.

I can’t really remember when the sleeping sickness claimed its victory.

I was energetic, driven, hopeful and full of passion to put the world aright

When I slowly yet surely witness with indifference, my endeavors set alight.

I was aware to be sure, indeed I could comprehend the steady death of my world.

But there was nothing in the universe to motivate me to end this downward swirl.

So I watched to the bewilderment of those around as my castles crumbled down.

I wasn’t even so bold as Nero to play while the kingdom fell, not so much as a frown.

I was going to be somebody, I was going to make my mark.

Instead I’m just wasting away inside my body alone in the dark.

Oh sure, friends and relatives still come to gawk and stare at me with sad expressions.

They fancy me a freak of nature, not even alive enough to hear their worst confessions.

But I am still alive within this rotting shell of a body.

Incapable to lift a finger or know the joy of feeling haughty.

I doubt I’ll ever be resurrected from my waking dreamlike condition.

No specters of mind or spirits from beyond here for me to ask permission.

Just me with my thoughts and the sad ramblings of whoever happens to be near.

Though the thought that I may indeed outlive them all, yes this is what I most fear.

-CL Fuqua

To far greener lands I go

It is to far greener lands that I go

Away from all that I think I know

To the lands only hinted of in my purest of dreams

Where death is forgotten and all is just as it seems

I will travel light not bringing anything of my past

I only need a view of new horizons infinitely vast

The deadened brown of decay slowly gives way to lively fresh green

Around every curve in the road is a new adventure previously unseen

The sky is crystal clear and blue

Birds enchantingly sing on cue

They croon of new possibilities for me just up ahead

Of sins and regrets discarded for new life instead

It is to these far greener lands that I go

I renounce all that I have come to know

My industrious wisdom and its cynicism are naught

By the light of life and nature shall I be taught

If life will have me as a humble pilgrim in its land

I will serve it faithfully until the end as best I can

I see clouds so smoothly curved and white

Painted perfectly by God with no end in sight

Light shimmers in crystalline patterns through the tears in my eyes

Visions so beautiful it seems unreal and yet here there dwell no lies

I am walking onward to these lands of emerald joy

I will leave behind the man I am and become a boy

In the innocence of my youth I held these lands in my heart

But corruption and pride slowly tore me and the lands apart

I go now and I go for good

I go just as all boys should

It is to far greener lands that I go

Away from all that I think I know

-CL Fuqua

Lazarus

Lying dead awake in the cold seclusion of the tomb

The perverse inverse of the innocence in the womb

How long has it been, Lord?

How much more time can I afford?

Didn’t I deny you when I was living my life in times past?

When the faith of my fathers was considered only last

Is there hope to be found in the grave where all life withers?

Surely life must stay dead when death has come hither

Dancing around my field of vision are the wisps of memory

I am losing myself like an internal wound slowly hemorrhaging

My sanity is a fond remembrance slowly fading as I keep sinking

This process of death has no real resolution, just infinite unthinking

Who can rescue a soul in the state mine is in?

And not only the soul but the body its housed within?

It has rotted and the flesh is falling off the brittle bone

More dust now than man I’m becoming more and more alone

But there is hope yet even in the icy embrace of death

A voice shouting out words fiery and alive with breath

Please stitch the fragments of my spirit back together

Uncreated Light cauterizing my wounds shut forever

A new creation gasps for air being pulled True North

As the voice of the God-Man shouts “Lazarus, come forth!”

-CL Fuqua

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes

Well I like fire as much as the next soul, my love.

But to set a whole city ablaze seems a step above.

We never intended harm to them did we, my dear?

Love was on our mind yet we inspired so much fear.

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes.

You saw through all my self righteous prudish lies.

When you said I would be yours I knew I wouldn’t fight

For being the weaker sex I can never win try as I might

Weren’t you supposed to be loving another?

Is he not enough for your passion to smother?

I remember the night we lit the fire

It was the same moment I became a liar

Doing what I said I never would with a women who was not mine

Being a devil in the city of angels all the while feeling just fine

We stepped back hand in hand admiring the growing glowing flames

They stretched higher and higher as if to heaven exposing our shame

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes

After the city burnt down we severed the ties

But I can still feel you in the dark of midnight

I still smell your skin when I am alone in moonlight

You will haunt me until I am dead

Playful words better left unsaid

-CL Fuqua

Hrafn

I’ve been caged all my life.

Waiting and growing incubating in strife.

With the slightest flutters of my glossy black wings

I wait until the day they can stretch out and sing.

I listen intently for the unmistakable sound.

Blaring horns and the baying of the hound.

The time has come and I will not be kept hidden any longer.

The Great Raven black, winged and full of death is stronger.

The prayers for the humble meek light in me have withered away.

Now the black force of nature has burst forth ready to play.

HRAFN