House of words

September 2015

Wipe the last dewy syllable from the house of words.
Clip the sentenced roses that surround the door.

Remove all dross, every dead leaf
from beneath the oak so that

what remains outside are hobbled branches,
that deceptive nude grey as they feign sleep.

Mop up remains, the crumbs of your existence,
that slice of uneaten humble pie, scoop it up

then bin it. Go on, brush, scrub. Leave nothing
in the upstairs cupboards for them to misunderstand.

It is your mess, your doing, your unstoppered
bottle of potion. Your work, after all,

to soak, mop the faulty syllables off the skin
of the house of words you have constructed —

windowpanes, doors, the cobwebbed drainpipes —
for you must be precise, leave nothing for others

when finally it is time for reading and the house
of words is opened to your guests, who will
stream in, accomplices all, despite appearances.

Mary O’Donnell

the Hidden People…

June 14, 2016

lights

A final word of warning. Although they are often referred to by such names as the Good Folk or the Fair Folk, there are as many species or unique variations whose reputation is that of malice, cruelty, or evil, and even those reported to be kind or helpful are also referred to warily by locals familiar with them. If the Hidden People, did, indeed, keep themselves neutral in the war between Heaven and Hell, it may be surmised that they all are capable great good and great evil.

Emerson Blackwood
Blackwood’s Guide to Dangerous Fairies

The Blood Spattered Bride 2

Why you can’t trust women. Even young girls. Can’t know what the fuck they are thinking, can’t know what they are feeling, can’t know how they will surprise you except to know it won’t be a surprise you will like.

Joyce Carol Oates
Little Bird of Heaven

monstrous living sack…

June 14, 2016

monstrous living sack

“What’s that!” exclaimed Simon, and they swung round to face the new danger. The shadows were massing into deeper blackness in one corner of the room. Something was moving there.
A dim phosphorescent blob began to glow in the darkness; shimmering and spreading into a great hummock, its outline gradually became clearer. It was not a man form nor yet an animal, but heaved there on the floor like some monstrous living sack. It had no eyes or face but from it there radiated a terrible malefic intelligence.

Suddenly there ceased to be anything ghostlike about it. The Thing had a whitish pimply skin, leprous and unclean, like some huge silver slug. Waves of satanic power rippled through its spineless body, causing it to throb and work continually like a great mass of new-made dough. A horrible stench of decay and corruption filled the room; for as it writhed it exuded a slimy poisonous moisture which trickled in little rivulets across the polished floor. It was solid, terribly real, a living thing. They could even see long, single, golden hairs, separated from each other by ulcerous patches of skin, quivering and waving as they rose on end from its flabby body – and suddenly it began to laugh at them, a low, horrid, chuckling laugh.

Dennis Wheatley
The Devil Rides Out

threatening the gods…

June 14, 2016

Egyptian Magic

Egyptian spells may plead with and command a deity to carry out the magician’s desire. Other spells go as far as threatening the gods with sacrilegious acts and cosmic catastrophe. One such spell was owned by a priest named Hor, who lived in the second century BC, yet he was an exceptionally pious man who dedicated his life to the service of the god Thoth after receiving divine visions.

Geraldine Pinch
Magic in Ancient Egypt