hallowed_be_thy_weed

what do ya people think of his poems and stories.he is the finest author ive ever read.anything cool from his stories or poems would be well appreciated

Then silence, and stillness, and night were the universe. -pit and the pendulum

Woods

<a href="http://www.geocities.com/neuromancer70/Raven.zip" target="_blank">http ://www.geocities.com/neuromancer70/Raven.zip</a>

The Raven as read by Christopher Walken, a creepy poem read by a real fuckin creepy guy

__________________
Kishar steals his aunt's morphine patches because he has the moral sense of George Bush

Prisons are built with stones of Law. Brothels with bricks of religion.

Dissident

sure he married his thirteen year old cousin, but he was a damn good writer...smoked alot of opium too


A Dream within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Dissident

The Conqueror Worm

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years.
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre to see
A play of hopes and fears
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly;
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their condor wings
Invisible Woe.

That motley drama--oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot;
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude:
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes--it writhes!--with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

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,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, ``Man,''
And the hero, the Conqueror Worm.
---
---
The Happiest Day

The happiest day--the happiest hour
My seared and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween
But they have vanished long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been--
But let them pass.

And pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev'n inherit
The venom thou hast poured on me--
Be still my spirit!

The happiest day--the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see--have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offered with the pain
Ev'n then I felt--that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wings was dark alloy
And as it fluttered--fell
An essence--powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
---
---
A Valentine

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet's, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

DankGirl

i read Poe in school but never reaslly got into his stuff.
Has anyone read "Kubla Khan" by Coleridge? its describes this amazing perfect place, with a pleasure dome (filled with all lifes pleasures) and you can only reach it by going miles and miles underground. its this unthinkable place where everything is just as you can imagine.
read it.
its a magical wonderland

peace
sd.g

__________________
"I await the usa army as the iraqis did in 1993. with open arms, as we the world know what freedom is we wait for AMERICA, and our tears are for your sons who will die in liberating us. we want to be AMERICANS forever." (thefreedombird)

meow

"what is complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound."

for some reason, i just fell in love with that.

cookie to anyone who knows what its from.

db420

i never got into poe either, but the telltale heart was the koolest thing we ever read in 8th grade

__________________
"Its not you, its the world thats fucked up"

My friends dad while we were all drinking 40's with him

Dissident

Meow -- "Murders of the Rue Morgue"

wheres my cookie? that is another euphemism for 'piece of ass' right?

meow

[quote]Originally posted by Spiral Suitcase:
<strong>Meow -- "Murders of the Rue Morgue"

wheres my cookie? that is another euphemism for 'piece of ass' right?</strong><hr></blockquote>

haha, come get it... ahem, i mean, your cookie.