by Edgar Allan
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.
Here
once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my
Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my
heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll-
As the lavas
that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the
ultimate climes of the pole-
That groan as they roll down Mount
Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been
serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-
Our
memories were treacherous and sere-
For we knew not the month was
October,
And we marked not the night of the year-
(Ah, night of all
nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber-
(Though
once we had journeyed down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of
Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
And now, as the
night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn-
As the
star-dials hinted of morn-
At the end of our path a liquescent
And
nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose
with a duplicate horn-
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with
its duplicate horn.
And I said–"She is warmer than Dian:
She
rolls through an ether of sighs-
She revels in a region of
sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks,
where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the
Lion,
To point us the path to the skies-
To the Lethean peace of the
skies-
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her
bright eyes-
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her
luminous eyes."
But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said–"Sadly
this star I mistrust-
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:-
Oh,
hasten!–oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly!–let us fly!–for we must."
In
terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the
dust-
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in
the dust-
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.
I
replied–"This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous
light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor
is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night:-
See!–it flickers up
the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its
gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright-
We safely may trust to
a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to
Heaven through the night."
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed
her,
And tempted her out of her gloom-
And conquered her scruples
and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped
by the door of a tomb-
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I
said–"What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended
tomb?"
She replied–"Ulalume–Ulalume-
'Tis the vault of thy lost
Ulalume!"
Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves
that were crisped and sere-
As the leaves that were withering and
sere-
And I cried–"It was surely October
On this very night of last
year
That I journeyed–I journeyed down here-
That I brought a dread
burden down here-
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what
demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of
Auber-
This misty mid region of Weir-
Well I know, now, this dank
tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."
Said we
then, the two then,
"Ah, can it have been
That the woodlandish
ghouls,
The pitiful, the merciful ghouls,
To bar up our way and to
ban it
From the secret that lies in these wolds,
From the thing that
lies hidden in these wolds,
Have drawn up the spectre of a
planet
From the limbo of lunary souls,
This sinfully scintillant
planet
From the Hell of the planetary souls..."
back before i was a ghost.. when my son was 8 years old, i lost a year in crippling clinical depression induced by a horrible adverse reaction to one of my many stomach meds.. psychiatrists piggy-backed tranquilizers and antidepressants which only made matters worse.. it was a black hole in my life.. finally it was discovered and i made the decision to rid myself of all the meds entirely.. it was like coming back from the dead.. i had my rainbow back.. and to celebrate i made a film with the help of my son.. to showcase my art and for toxic to have her say.. it's called 'a secret film'.. it's ten years old.. but it is so nostalgic for me to look back on now.. it was our whole universe encapsulated with the music that meant the most to us then.. it is now viewable thanks to google down in 'ghost films' ..plus look to the left for the new 'haunted home movies' section..
this much madness is too much sorrow
Posted by: | July 27, 2007 at 03:46 PM
^^^
indeed..
today we drove through a snow of cottonwood seeds up to astoria.. it was a gorgeous sunny summer day..
in one old abandoned pioneer cemetery i found an open crypt from the 1800's.. ivy had pried the metal door open..? at least that's what it looked like to me..
(but i'm a solitary ghost.. don't want to meet any new friends.. i left it alone.)
we drove through a cool old covered bridge in wahkiakum county.. and watched multiple bald eagles soaring over another cemetery there.. it was such a quiet spot we could hear them calling to each other..
i've switched back to the meloncholia mix today.. no matter how beautiful my surroundings are.. i am still just too sad and lonely.. true happiness only lies farther and farther out of my reach. i feel like such a tragic waste.
the long years spent in seclusion have carved out the most gaping and glaring emptiness on the inside that i wonder each day why it hasn't simply caved in on me.. my heart can't take where i've ended up after all these years of what i thought were sound choices..
i swear i wish it would just fucking crush me already and kill the ache.
ghost
Posted by: ghost | July 28, 2007 at 08:37 PM
fame is but a fruit tree
so very unsound
it can never flourish
till its stalk is in the ground
so men of fame
can never find a way
till time has flown
far from their dying day
forgotten while you're here
remembered for a while
a much updated ruin
from a much outdated style
life is but a memory
happened long ago
theatre full of sadness
for a long forgotten show
seems so easy
just to let it go on by
till you stop and wonder
why you never wondered why
safe in the womb
of an everlasting night
you find the darkness can
give the brightest light
safe in your place deep in the earth
that's when they'll know what you were really worth
forgotten while you're here
remembered for a while
a much updated ruin
from a much outdated style
fame is but a fruit tree
so very unsound
it can never flourish
till its stalk is in the ground
so men of fame
can never find a way
till time has flown
far from their dying day
fruit tree, fruit tree
no one knows you but the rain and the air
don't you worry
they'll stand and stare when you're gone
fruit tree, fruit tree
open you eyes to another year
they'll all know
that you were here when you're gone
Posted by: ghost | July 30, 2007 at 10:09 AM
i'm completely swallowed up by a hellatious low/depression..
just anyone talking to me seems to cause me such over the top anger.. ever notice about 99.9% of what people say is totally unnecessary?
it's such an effort to have to answer another inane question.. ..so i don't.
even surrounded by kitty gar-girls upon waking i'm having those bad kind of thoughts again..
like just how strong is that orange utility power cord out in the garage..?
just when i think i'm coming out of the riptide for a minute.. it's pulling me way back out.
i so hate my self and life and this world that i can't stand it moment to moment. but migraine and fatigue win and i just sit and stare.
and yesterday i told off god..
so he's probably not liking me too much today.
Posted by: ghost | July 31, 2007 at 09:56 AM
I would have liked to have been there when you told off god. I bet it was good :) I never think to do that because I assume he wouldn't have the faintest clue who the hell I am. Please don't touch the cord. Em
Posted by: Emma | July 31, 2007 at 12:09 PM
the wayward emma?
i'm sure he wishes he didn't know who i am..
i'm quite a pest with all my ocd praying..
(begging & pleading.. etc.)
maybe i can at least get myself squashed for it..
the little part that use to fight has gone quiet.. i cried today realizing my demons have gotten their foothold.. but then- we struck a deal..
if they'd be willing to kill me,
i'd be willing to let them.
Posted by: ghost | July 31, 2007 at 06:04 PM
I think that your demons will not be so accomodating. Now they know your preference...
Keep hanging on ghost. What you are going through now with the job situation is as difficult as it gets. You can make it. I am always reminded of something you once pointed out to me - this is all cruelly survivable. I think about that a lot.
Posted by: Emma | August 01, 2007 at 06:11 AM