Hey! This is an in-progress version of a page which will collect my (rattles) SCP-related poetry. For a challenge, see if you can guess what SCP or other thing each one refers to.
Poems Regarding Specific Articles
SCPs
Series I
The slavers say among themselves they are too great to die. "We look on these blind fools below, and sigh."
Uriel stands before the gate, awaiting for his Lord. As he has lived, so shall he die, aching for the sword.
Best keep your treasures underground, hidden safe away. Lest the King shall cast his curse, ere the break of day.
Series II
The brides' jewels rest and watch, sparking in the skies. But when the jailers look too close, hate festers in their eyes.
Series III
The children wail and cry to see their grisly bears, but not one of the grownups ever truly cares.
The greatest torment the King has made lies not in night but light. Gaze upon it and you shall meet the unending gods' twilight.
Series IV
The jailers seek to rob the paupers still of what they feel. For this the gods have cursed them with their own abominable eel.
A race of beings in dream the artists did give birth. Fear the hour the second artist lands upon the earth.
Series V
The Yuletide demon labors away, sharing all his toys. Every winter solstice yet has brought him twisted joys.
Series VI
A time may come that the jailers say is the day that man must die. They'll leave one question still on all our minds: why?
The foulest clockworks lie within the slavers' hidden hall. Where they choose to strike, there shall surely silence fall.
GoI Formats
Tales
The foolish think that hope is something found in orange goo. Right under their unseeing eyes is the only weapon true.
Poems Not Regarding Specific Articles
They say the doctor's immortal now, that he can't ever die. Come 1087 years and his heart becomes the sky.
The steel ones march to slaughter, bathing in the gore. The doctors have no monsters more accursed than these four.
The jurors watch and weigh, and say they know what's right, but when the King shows them their labors they shall all turn white with fright.
In the land of lakes a one-eyed woman wait alone. No others shall she ever stand but the demons all her own.
Some think that the very gears and cogs can still be woken. That which they forgot of the flesh again shall leave them Broken. Others curse the gods, and place their faith with Ion. Those of us who've seen the truth all know him for a moron.
The brothers lived and worked in peace as YHWH said they must, til the King enjoined their hearts with a Woman and dark lusts. The Woman the King bestowed arights was of no common type. Her voice turned growths to blights, her song, the fruits unripe. The brother elder saw her and decreed she be his wife. The Woman proved too sly for him, and with a rock she spilt his life. The brother younger found the elder lying in the earth. He lacked the ire for vengeance, and soon the woman willed them wed. Many children in many years, did the Woman then give birth. Once her mate grew old, she bid her sons to take his head.
The Woman's brood did prosper, and spread across the land. Her sons and daughters all alike did form her hunting bands. For all the world's treasures they sought, and many wars they fought. But the Woman knew that soon or all queendoms surely fail, so seven babes she thus ordained the Children of the Veil. The Children's feats are handed down in many ancient tales, but of the memory of this poor aged surgeon none may now avail.
The black moon howls for no one man alone. Its signalling cry belongs to the slavers all alone.