Dread Poets Sobriety

I remarked an amusing coincidence immediately after deciding on this title. One of my previous favourites (titles) was, “The Pall of the Souse of Usher”, which are both now Mike Flannagan mini-series productions. He beat me to Hill House but I to Usher, so the balance remains in check though I imagine Mr. Poe and Shirley Jackson would now care to enter the chat. I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, boo-ooo, ghosts aren’t for real. Sorry about that, at least I showed restraint in not rewriting any other lyrics. Yet. As an aside, who has read Usher? I did a few years ago and completely missed the hype. I know it’s me and not the source material, simply not comprehending the subtlety and nuance, not dissimilar to my lack of appreciation for cricket or heterosexual intercourse, all three of which I find dull and overly taxing. I see the ad-lib portion of the post has as ever run away with itself so let’s just move on.

I had a different poem selected for today but after hurting myself this morning, an alternative, written only yesterday, feels more authentic. Plus we got to enjoy that horrifying opening paragraph. And I thought Usher wasn’t scary, such ignorance. We’re going to save any other discussion for the debrief so… please enter.

---

“The Damn’s Burst”, December 9, 2022.

A perplexing intrigue webbed 

Confidence and surety ebbed 

The found’s yet forever lost 

Eternal damnation’s cost 

Court of demonic beings 

Prognosticate false seeings 

Evermore and other calls 

Echo through these devilish halls 

Guilt was not in any doubt 

Mercy’s perennial drought 

Fetid ropes and scorching wire 

Torturers who never tire 

Fully trussed all movement gone 

Some nights never break to dawn 

Light now snuffed eternally 

Judgement cast infernally 

A cell forms the perverse truce 

Stunning in its sheer abuse 

The truth is eternal pain 

Preferred alternative bane

Truly there are crueller fates 

Laid outside suffering’s gates.

---

I lied, my personal infirmities are preventing me from maintaining this posture any further so instead I’ll leave you with one of the best paragraphs ever constructed. Thank you very much and much love to you all!

-Alex Blaikie

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met nearly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

-Shirley Jackson

Genius. Absolute fucking genius.

This site is a labour of love, absent of any ads or paywalls. If you enjoy my work, please consider making a one-time or ongoing donation via the secure link below. Thank you so much for your support.