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Victoria Fewster

A Parody of Poe: The Furnace                    For Paul

Once upon a psych ward lifeless, while I ravaged, wild and reckless,

Over many a pained and starved expression of a dirty war,

While I cowered, broken, shying, with a glare intensifying,

As of the sun’s early shining, shining through my dirty war.

“‘Tis hidden Hope,” I muttered, “shining through my dirty war.

Only this and nothing more.”


Ah, distinctly through my slumber, it was in an English summer

That each separate dripping leaf, brought my soul down to the floor.

Desperately I feared the morrow; Vainly I had sought to borrow

From all wars and tales of harrow – harrow of internal flaw,

Of the warped and devious nature, which no angels name Heart’s Flaw.

Present here forevermore.


And the beaming bright unwelcome blindness of each fulgent sunbeam

Gored me – floored me, with ferocious presence never felt before;

So that now to shade the losing of my wits, I lay snoozing:

“‘Tis hidden Hope securing safety from my dirty war –

Some sly hope securing safety from my dirty war.

This it is, and nothing more.”


Presently my mask grew stronger, I had tried to love no longer,

“Friends,” said I, “family, truly your forgiveness I implore,

But the fact is I’ve been lying, and so kindly you came flying

And so blindly you came trying, trying desperately to care for,

That I had no choice, I left you” – here I opened wide the door.

Darkness there and nothing more.


Down into the spiral whirring, wholeheartedly believing, stirring,

Starting, thinking thoughts my little mind had never thought before.

But the brightness kept on glowing, and the whiteness flamed bestowing,

And the only sight there showing was within me; my Heart’s Flaw.

This I ran from, but the vision wouldn’t let me be – Heart’s Flaw -

Merely this, and nothing more.


Back towards the darkness turning, too much whiteness I found burning,

And i thought I’d best stop trying or else lose my mind for sure.

“Some hope,” said I, “some hope that is, when it screams more than the madness;

If it cuts more than the sadness, I appear to be done for –

If the cure’s worse than the illness, I appear to be done for; -

Give me dark and nothing more.”



So when turned back to the shadows, helped by drugs, booze and tobacco,

Found I such a blazing Furnace, forged god only knows wherefore.

It raged with fiery intent, without thought or care for repent,

But with bold assurance president; over-shined my dirty war –

Over-shined like flowers of Elpis, reinforced my dirty war –

Shined and blazed, and nothing more.


Then this rubescent rage repealing my withdrawal from all feeling

Dared with belief and its desire, through the heat and light it bore,

“Though thy flames be hot and earnest, thou,” I said “art sound of purpose,

Art no incoherent Furnace blazing straight from hell’s own door –

So what exactly is thy message, if not straight from hell’s own door?”

Flamed the Furnace, “Nevermore.”


Much I pondered of the essence, the virtue of this fervescence,

Though was left with more confusion – more delusion taken for;

As one cannot help assuming when a psych patient found spuming

Tales of flames and fires consuming, to combat their dirty war,

That the flames and fires themselves are but part of the dirty war,

To blaze there forevermore.


But the Furnace flowering soundly from her arms, raged so profoundly,

So consistently, the urgence of its need be not ignored.

The flames altered then no longer, and with such persistent hunger

Asked my soul for it to feed on; “I can really do no more –

My need matches its, and will not live alone here anymore.”

Like the Furnace flamed before.


Startled at the fetters broken, at my feelings all awoken,

“Doubtless,” said I “the implosions from its torrid, molten core

Must be tamed and must be tempered, all its power must be rendered

From myself, who so self-centred, failed to see what it stood for;

Failed to read its warnings of Fear, and just what that Fear stood for.”

Namely, feeling more and more.


But the Furnace still repealing all my sad soul to believing,

Up I leapt with o’ so eager feet into a new hot war;

Then into those flames I trusted, inhibitions so combusted,

Making friends with guilty twisted thoughts, straight from the scorching core,

From the hot, chaotic, frightful, and all-seeing scorching core.

Blazing here forevermore.





Whilst I sat the heat enjoying, with no thought of hearts destroying,

Little knew the blinding light was misinterpreted before.

So I shied away from learning, all the depths within me churning,

And my mind forever turning from the red heat I never saw;

But forever fully turning from the red heat I never saw.

  • Damn you, internal flaw.


Then it seems my thoughts grew clearer, promoted from pain coming nearer,

Brought by anharmonic effort to discard what I abhor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “you have forsaken – you have abused and have mistaken

Promise – promise and emersion from thy own internal flaw!

Trust, oh trust this kind emersion and defeat internal flaw!”

Raged the Furnace, “Nevermore.”


“Counsel,” said I, “thing of evil! – counsel still, if fire or devil!

Whether good intent or whether thee have anguish more in store,

Tormented, yet still striving, I am through this madness driving –

Through this blind madness contriving, - show me quickly, I implore –

How to – HOW to – end this torture – cure me – cure me, I implore!”

Raged the Furnace, “Nevermore.”


“Counsel,” said I, “thing of evil! – counsel still, if fire or devil!

By that earth we feel beneath us, by that peace we both search for –

Show this fool so fraught with hating, maybe a world less devastating,

Maybe a pain less suffocating, whom no angels name Heart’s Flaw –

Lessen that pain so suffocating, whom no angels name Heart’s Flaw.”

Blazed the Furnace, “Nevermore.”


“My illusion is now broken, fiery fiend, I am awoken –

Please leave me be and quell your urgence as I’ve heard what you came for!

Take thy flames and all thy raging, take thy desires and thy rampaging

From my mind now disengaging – I will hear thy lies no more!

Take back the longing you dared inflame, I will hear thy lies no more.”

Still it raged, forevermore.


And the Furnace, never failing, still is blazing, still is blazing,

With over-shining flowers of Elpis to light up internal flaw.

And its flames have all the reason, all joy and sadness with cohesion,

As if tranquility of feeling could be reached through its hot war,

As if my soul not up to reaching through its own hot dirty war

Shall be burned forevermore.

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