The gruesome death of Cuan Knaggs

On occasion, I get the urge to write a poem where somebody is treated most miserably, often killed or torn apart. Cuan Knaggs (on Google+) volunteered, so this is the poem I wrote for him. These tend to be quick and rough, rather than polished. If you'd like to volunteer and don't mind dying a violent poetic death, let me know.

The gruesome death of Cuan Knaggs

Rising up from underneath the cold hard ground
The beast lifts his head and stares the people down
He's hungry from his sentence served beneath cement
He tosses down two cats, it doesn't make a dent.

Ahead he sees a figure rising in the street,
much larger than a cat, maybe good to eat.
"Your name, man?" he demands with wrath upon his lips
in a raspy voice like thunder rolling off a cliff.

"My name is Knaggs," the man replied. "Cuan Knaggs to be exact
and wherever you have come from, I'd like you to go back."
The monster stared and laughed a monstrous evil laugh
"I'll come and go where ere I want," then tore the man in half.

He started with the bottom half, crunched the legs and feet,
licked his lips and slurped the butt as if it were a treat
then shredded Cuan into a messy human snack
which he ate from waist to head then right on down the back.

Cuan's friends and family were awed he'd stood up to the beast,
but greatly sad he'd ended as the giant monster's feast.
They one and all decided that they'd run back up the stairs
and hide beneath their beds till the monster went elsewhere.