Out - out are the lights - out all
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, Man,
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Ahhh.

Instead of simply bumping the thread, as has been my past modus operandi, I'm going to plug a verse or line from Poe...just to set the mood ever more.



If interested, you can Google for the title and read the rest. I'll pick from my favourites, though, and stay away from the longer works (unless I'm asked to).

Of the dead, who is my bride-
All perfumed there,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon her hair.

Hope you dont mind me bumping this as well Masqua with the first verse of Ulalume by Poe.

The skies they were ashen and sober ;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere ;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year ;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber
In the ghoul haunted woodland of Weir.

Thanks for that bit of Ulalume, my favourite bit in it is this-

And I Said: "what is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied: Ulalume - Ulalume -
'T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

I can't think of a better way to bump this thread, Mojo4sale, than to pepper it with Poe or any other writer of horror. Here's my contribution today:


The breeze - the breath of God - is still,
And mists upon the hill
Shadowy - shadowy yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token, -
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

the final verse from 'Spirits of the Dead' by the illustrious Mr E.A.Poe

Originally posted by masqua

That's right...I want to be frightened out of my gourd. Make me lose sleep, please.

The breeze - the breath of God - is still,
And mists upon the hill
Shadowy - shadowy yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token, -
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

Originally posted by masqua

That's right...I want to be frightened out of my gourd. Make me lose sleep, please.

do not be afraid. i don't want to scare you, but here is proof of the masks people already hide their true selves behind, please look in my mirror. i am ophiuchus:

edun [mirror] nude
adam [mirror] mad a {or} made a (the "e" is silent)
man [mirror] nam {or} name


be not afraid. i am just a silly odd man in the nude, holding up my truth to see if it is compatible with your truth. be not afraid. no more "boo".

if i were a car, i would feel guilty for all the bad air i make. i would say:

"see i fart" but i know a lot so i would make "see" into "c" to save room.

so if i were a car i would say: "c i fart".

then i would hold my words up to the mirror:

c i fart [mirror] trafic.

be not afraid. i hope you loose your sleep.

i love you and accept you for who you are.

me?

i am a silly odd man named "som". i am in the nude holding up your truth to compare it to mine, are our truths compatible, or will you still wear the masks of humanity's lies?

[edit on 23-9-2006 by Esoteric Teacher]

13 in the round
the ancients had found
parsing the heavens above,
bending an elbow for love.
preceding. I sound.

Taking the masque to task?
Am I really the one to ask?
Does Beardsley do frilly?
Do you hold scrimshaw silly?
C'mon, just break open that cask!

Christopher Marlowe was a really excellent horror writer. In his most famous play, Doctor Faustus, is a bit which is, IMO, perfect for Halloween. In this scene, three adversaries (Martino, Benvolio and Frederick) cut the head from the body of Faustus and yet, amazingly, the mystic still lives.

Here is the conversation when the three murderers realise their mistake;

Benvolio. Zounds, the devil's alive again!

Frederick. Give him his head, for God's sake!

Faustus. Nay, keep it. Faustus will have heads and hands,
Ay, all your hearts, to recompense this deed.
Knew you not, traitors, I was limited
For four and twenty years to breathe upon earth?
And had you cut my body with your swords
Or hewed this flesh and bones as small as sand,
Yet in a minute had my spirit returned
And I breathed a man made free from harm.
But wherefore do I dally my revenge?
Asteroth, Behemoth, Mephostophilis!

Enter Mephostophilis and other Devils

Go horse these traitors on your fiery backs
And mount aloft with them as high as heaven,
Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell.
Yet stay, the world shall see their misery,
And hell shall plague their treachery.
Go Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence (caitiff=wretch)
And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt.
Take thou this other, drag him through the woods
Among the pricking thorns and sharpest briars:
Whilst with my gentle Mephostophilis
This traitor flies unto some steepy rock
That rolling down may break the villain's bones
As he intended to dismember me.
Fly hence, dispatch my charge immediately!

Chapter 4, scene 3 Of Doctor Faustus, a play by Chrisopher Marlowe

As headless horsemen go, Faustus had it wa-a-ay better than the poor schmuck in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Originally posted by masqua

Here is the conversation when the three murderers realise their mistake;

i am ophiuchus. i know the conversations, all conversations.

lose your sleep, and awaken . . .. awake kin . .. .. . awoke kin.

the three murderers of humpty dumpty were:

1) humpty's ignorance of "FEAR" of being alone.

2) humpty's ignorance of "FEAR" of being sad humpty was alone.

3) humpty's ignorance of when humpty created love that humpty would now be able to comprehend the "FEARS" of being alone and sad, and saw what humpty's ignorance had done. "Fear of being alone" and "fear of sadness for being alone" had multiplied exponentially creating more fears, and many masks ..... . .

humpty's omega reached back to the alpha and asked the question:

"what is the opposite of love?"

all of humpty's daughters, and all of humpty's sisters, and all of humpty's mothers, and all their pony boys have put humpty dumpty back together again.

i am ophiuchus.

i am of eye you choose.

i am time phi'd you choose.

loose your sleep. be not afraid.

666? i know you!

1) your first love was FEAR, a byproduct of "self pre-serve" aka "me before serve"
2) your second love was FOOD, needed for cellular replication.
3) your third love was FAMILY, as they nurished and protected you.
4) your fourth love was FRIENDS, as they accepted you for who they told you you were.
5) your fifth love was FORNICATION, as you were curious about love, and it was the physical manifestation of love.
6) your sixth love was FINANCES as it provided for you more of your last four loves and hid from you your first lie of fear

six loves placed six times that all begin with the sixth letter of the "all fib i bet"

six six six

six times placed before my "g" the seventh letter

but wait

i am sixth from the end of the lies and sixth from the end of the "all fib i bet"

see me?

i am that which has added it all together

i am ophiuchus the + the t the T

AND ALL THREE +tT

From the Giaour by lord Byron some vampiric verse for Halloween inspiration.


But thou, false Infidel! shall writhe
Beneath avenging Monkir's scythe;
And from its torments 'scape alone
To wander round lost Eblis' throne;
And fire unquench'd, unquenchable,
Around, within, thy heart shall dwell;
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
But first on earth, as Vampyre sent,
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent;
Then ghastly haunt the native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corse,
Thy victims, ere they yet expire,
Shall know the demon for their sire;
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, best beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father's name—
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet thou must end thy task and mark
Her cheek's last tinge—her eye's last spark,
And the last glassy glance must view
Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue;
Then with unhallowed hand shall tear
The tresses of her yellow hair,
Of which, in life a lock when shorn
Affection's fondest pledge was worn—
But now is borne away by thee
Memorial of thine agony!
Yet with thine own best blood shall drip;
Thy gnashing tooth, and haggard lip;
Then stalking to thy sullen grave,
Go—and with Gouls and Afrits rave,
Till these in horror shrink away
From spectre more accursed than they.

Yet with thine own best blood shall drip;
Thy gnashing tooth, and haggard lip;
Then stalking to thy sullen grave,
Go—and with Gouls and Afrits rave,
Till these in horror shrink away
From spectre more accursed than they.

Ooo000WOOO00ooooh!!!

Very very scary, eh, kids?
The Count thinks this is really scary!

O000ooooWoooo00000!!!

Now remember, if we're quoting from these scary people, that it's OK to quote from those that are just bones in a casket.

*snicker*

If we're going to quote someone still alive and copyrighted, we should be doing that 'giving proper credit' thingy. We don't want to get the Count into legal troubles!!!

OoooNoooo!!

Lord Byron is good, and so is Poe...but watch out for that greedy Stephen King guy!!!

OOOoooWOO000!!!

He's not even scary anymore. He used to be, with Carrie and the car that wouldn't die, but he's so busy counting money now that he forgot how to be scary.

BoooHooo!!!

Originally posted by masqua
I thought your time was from November 30 to December 17, but I guess I was wrong.

i'm composing the story as we all are, however the immaculate conception day is december 8th, and 1971 added up to 18 which was a good year to be born.

Time to bump the (SMSHC) thread one more time.

It is such a cold damp wind which rustles the dying leaves with drear susserations tonight, that I am desirous to quote Mr Poe again. But, this time I shall commence with his most cherished work, the one which has echoed through time.

Here are the first two verses of;

The Raven


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for my lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.


[edit on 26-9-2006 by masqua]

The next two verses of The Raven by E A Poe;

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Poor form to interrupt the Raven, but here i must, for from my dusty vaults creeps Prometheus Unbound by Percy Bysshe Shelley, long removed from this mortal coil.

an excerpt:

But thou, who art the God and Lord:
O thou Who fillest with thy soul this world of woe,
To whom all things of Earth and Heaven do bow
In fear and worship--all-prevailing foe!
I curse thee! let a sufferer's curse Clasp thee,
his torturer, like remorse;
Till thine Infinity shall be
A robe of envenomed agony;
And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain,
To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain!

Have many entries in the contest yet? I know there is still a bit more than a month, but I haven't seen too many......Perhaps everyone knows there is just no measuring up to the memory, the memory of the lost Lenore......

I intend on writing a couple more entries if I live through this latest research project, just haven't had time to yet. So, there's at least a couple more headed your way.

Originally posted by thelibra
I intend on writing a couple more entries if I live through this latest research project, just haven't had time to yet. So, there's at least a couple more headed your way.

Here's hoping you live through the research
Is it at all like the Shelley poem which Mojo4sale posted above? In particular, the bit that goes;


Till thine Infinity shall be
A robe of envenomed agony;
And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain,
To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain!

Envenomed....oooo! *shudder*
thy dissolving brain... aaah! *shiver*

There's this bit in The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco's brilliant murder mystery where victims are placed suspended in huge urns holding the finest olive oil. Their flesh slowly softens over the weeks until it begins to melt from their bones.

Dissolving the body, but keeping the brain intact to know it is happening.

Scary, very very scary....

Good luck, thelibra, and may your brain stay firm.