“Despair” by H.P. Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft’s Birthday:
Herald now the autumnal season of death, darkness, and Halloween.
-The Voice before the Void


H.P. Lovecraft

O’er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro’ the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair; Continue reading

“The Wehr-wolf” by George W.M. Reynolds

A monster’s frenzied night run of true awfulness and horror. Have a Happy Halloween Night!
-The Voice before the Void

“The Wehr-wolf”

from Wagner the Wehr-wolf

George W.M. Reynolds

‘Twas the hour of sunset.

The eastern horizon, with its gloomy and somber twilight, offered a strange contrast to the glorious glowing hues of vermilion, and purple, and gold, that blended in long streaks athwart the western sky.

For even the winter sunset of Italy is accompanied with resplendent tints—as if an emperor, decked with a refulgent diadem, were repairing to his imperial couch.

The declining rays of the orb of light bathed in molten gold the pinnacles, steeples, and lofty palaces of proud Florence, and toyed with the limpid waves of the Arno, on whose banks innumerable villas and casinos already sent forth delicious strains of music, broken only by the mirth of joyous revelers.

And by degrees as the sun went down, Continue reading

“The Music of Erich Zann” by H.P. Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft’s Birthday:
Upon Brennan’s recommendation.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Lovecraft. And with that, let begin the season of Halloween.”
-The Voice before the Void

“The Music of Erich Zann”

H.P. Lovecraft

I have examined maps of the city with the greatest care, yet have never again found the Rue d’Auseil. These maps have not been modern maps alone, for I know that names change. I have, on the contrary, delved deeply into all the antiquities of the place, and have personally explored every region, of whatever name, which could possibly answer to the street I knew as the Rue d’Auseil. But despite all I have done, it remains an humiliating fact that I cannot find the house, the street, or even the locality, where, during the last months of my impoverished life as a student of metaphysics at the university, I heard the music of Erich Zann.

That my memory is broken, I do not wonder; for my health, physical and mental, was gravely disturbed throughout the period of my residence in the Rue d’Auseil, and I recall that I took none of my few acquaintances there. But that I cannot find the place again is both singular and perplexing; for it was within a half-hour’s walk of the university and was distinguished by peculiarities which could hardly be forgotten by any one who had been there. I have never met a person who has seen the Rue d’Auseil. Continue reading

“The Canal” by Everil Worrell

Vampire romance – vintage, and done properly… that is: with horror.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“The Canal”

Everil Worrell

Past the sleeping city the river sweeps; along its left bank the old canal creeps.

I did not intend that to be poetry, although the scene is poetic—somberly, gruesomely poetic, like the poems of Poe. I know it too well—I have walked too often over the grass-grown path beside the reflections of black trees and tumble-down shacks and distant factory chimneys in the sluggish waters that moved so slowly, and ceased to move at all.

I have always had a taste for nocturnal prowling. Continue reading

“Dark romanticism” from Wikipedia

Edgar Allan Poe’s Birthday Special:
All great and dark.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“Dark romanticism”


Dark romanticism (often conflated with Gothicism or called American romanticism) is a literary subgenre centered on the writers Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Herman Melville.

As opposed to the perfectionist beliefs of Transcendentalism, the Dark Romantics emphasized human fallibility and proneness to sin and self-destruction, as well as the difficulties inherent in attempts at social reform.

1. Characteristics

G.R. Thompson stressed that in opposition to the optimism of figures like Ralph Waldo Emerson, “the Dark Romantics adapted images of anthropomorphized evil in the form of Satan, devils, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and ghouls,” as more telling guides to man’s inherent nature. Continue reading

“The Conqueror Worm” by Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe’s Birthday Special:
The apotheosis of the human condition.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“The Conqueror Worm”

Edgar Allan Poe

The Conqueror Worm by Edgar Allan illustration by W Heath Robinson 1900Lo! ’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. Continue reading

“The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

An old poem about a crow. / The coolest poem ever/yet written in the English language.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“The Raven”

Edgar Allan Poe

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.” Continue reading

“The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe

Halloween Special:
Poe’s parable of the persisting pandemic known as death.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“The Masque of the Red Death”

Edgar Allan Poe

The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

1894-1895 The Masque of the Red Death by Aubrey Beardsley mask art masquerade illustration Edgar Allan PoeBut the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. Continue reading

“The Nightmare Lake” by H.P. Lovecraft

Halloween Special:
Cool weird horror poetry.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“The Nightmare Lake”

H.P. Lovecraft

There is a lake in distant Zan,
Beyond the wonted haunts of man,
Where broods alone in a hideous state
A spirit dead and desolate;
A spirit ancient and unholy,
Heavy with fearsome melancholy,
Which from the waters dull and dense
Draws vapors cursed with pestilence. Continue reading

“Nemesis” by H.P. Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft’s Birthday Special:
A great, dark poem.
⁓The Voice before the Void


H.P. Lovecraft

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o’er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright. Continue reading

“Deserted” by Madison Cawein

Walpurgis Night Special:
Have a Happy Walpurgisnacht
⁓The Voice before the Void


Madison Cawein

The old house leans upon a tree
Like some old man upon a staff:
The night wind in its ancient porch
Sounds like a hollow laugh.

The heaven is wrapped in flying clouds
As grandeur cloaks itself in gray:
The starlight flitting in and out,
Glints like a lanthorn ray.

The dark is full of whispers. Now
A fox-hound howls: and through the night,
Like some old ghost from out its grave,
The moon comes misty white.

“Ash Wednesday” by Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni

Ash Wednesday Special:
Lovers of darkness can find much to appreciate in the art and imagery of a billion-strong death cult that fetishizes an executed criminal agitator; few can celebrate morbidity as avidly.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“Ash Wednesday”

Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni

Of votive lights there were only seven,
And each burned a prayer to the God in heaven.
Five candles were blue, one green, and one red,
Six burned for the living, and one for the dead.
The belfry was old and the church was bare.
Only the voice of the wind and the rain was there.
“I can snuff the candles,” said the voice of the rain
As downward it drifted through a cracked window pane,
“I can snuff the candles!” said the wind in the eaves,
“Who cares for a hope, or a heart that grieves?”
And the blue lights flickered, and the green one died
Before the bowed head of the meek Crucified.
But the last to flicker was the one bright red–
The candle that burned for the lonely dead.

“Within the scope of shadowscape” by The Voice before the Void

The cool, calm, serene omnipotence of darkness: an original fragment.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“Within the scope of shadowscape”

The Voice before the Void

Within the scope of shadowscape —
Within the edge between light and lightlessness —
Shadows cover with calm.
Serenity, cool, abides beyond light, glaring.
All is dark; light but passes through occasionally striking some object, bouncing back, bouncing around, but it continues to careen endlessly and eventually~inevitably passes on, and all is dark.
When I coalesced into me from the elements of the universe, it was in darkness;
When I dissipate back into the universe, it will be in darkness.
When the shadow falls across my face: I am; I am not.
Light passes on and outward;
Dark remains, in defeat of time.

“Ten O’Clock at Night at Rivington Hall” by anonymous

Summer Vacation Special:
What do we seek at ten o’clock at night in Rivington Hall?
⁓The Voice before the Void

“Ten O’Clock at Night at Rivington Hall”


It was with great pleasure that I heard, about a year ago, from my old friend Henry Danvers that he had succeeded to the Rivington Hall estate and an income of some thousands a year, on the death of a distant relation. Harry and I were school and college friends; and though of late years our paths in life had widely diverged, the old affection never slumbered. We met rarely, but we kept up a more constant correspondence than is usual even among brothers.

Our last meeting was on the occasion of his marriage to a charming girl, to whom he had long been attached; soon after which event he left the _____ Hussars, and went to live in Wales, near his wife’s family, till the death of his far-away cousin, old Luke Danvers, of Rivington Hall, put him in possession of a fine estate and ample income. Old Danvers died abroad, in some German town, where he had led a life of absolute seclusion for several years—nearly forty, I think. Harry came to London on business connected with the succession, and spent most of his time at my chambers in the Temple. His parting words to me were a cordial invitation to visit him at the old Hall as soon as he had made it habitable. It had been shut up since the late owner, a man of eccentric habits, retired somewhat suddenly abroad, Continue reading

“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

In all your terrible solitude and torment, you have found a kindred soul in Poe.
⁓The Voice before the Void


Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—

“Annihilation Speaks to His Concubine: An Urban Fantasy Dark Romance” by The Voice before the Void

The seductiveness of Death: an original vignette.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“Annihilation Speaks to His Concubine: An Urban Fantasy Dark Romance”

The Voice before the Void

I have come to you now in your sleep. Now, you hear me as a voice in your dream; in a moment, you shall sense my presence near you, and fear shall paralyze you. This shall pass, for I am familiar to you; you have felt me near you many times.

I have come to you now to take you completely.

And now you are excited, for you know that you cannot deny me. I have never been denied, and I never shall be denied. My power over all of your brethren is total; my power over you is total.

I shall take all of you, including all of your memories, and all of your tomorrows. My ravishment of you now terrifies and exhilarates you beyond all else you have ever felt, for you know that this experience is unique and ultimate.

After, I shall leave you forever in perfect peace.

“As to some lovely temple, tenantless” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sensual, macabre: a love poem as you’d expect from Millay.
⁓The Voice before the Void

“As to some lovely temple, tenantless”

Edna St. Vincent Millay

As to some lovely temple, tenantless
Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass,
Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass
Grown up between the stones, yet from excess
Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness,
The worshiper returns, and those who pass
Marvel him crying on a name that was, —
So is it now with me in my distress.
Your body was a temple to Delight;
Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled,
Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move;
Here might I hope to find you day or night,
And here I come to look for you, my love,
Even now, foolishly, knowing you are dead.