Dreaming of walking with some pretty girl upon a sunlit shore,
While I lay there, unassuming, suddenly there came a fuming,
As of someone loudly booming, booming bass out their car doors.
"'Tis some jackass," I muttered, "booming out their car door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was May, no wait, December
I awoken stubbed my toe, stumble, crashing down to the floor.
Eagerly I wished some sorrow; vainly upon the bassist's morrow
Swearing loudly in my sorrow; sorrow for my lost sweet snore.
For the insomniac's perfect sleep rarely finds him dreaming sunlit shores.
Sweet sleep gone forevermore.
Dusty venetian blinds cracking and popping between fingers
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis just some Jackass blasting woofers out of his car doors,
Some young idiot just out driving blasting out of his car doors.
This is it and nothing more."
Presently I was more awaken; unhesitating and unshaken
"Dude," said I, "or lady" as I slammed my way out my front door
"But the fact is, I was napping, and so loudly you came blasting
With your subwoofer you came blasting, blasting and what's more
Robbed me of such sweet and tender dreaming upon sunlit shore."
They stared back, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, watching, waiting
Wondering, questioning if they'd heard what I had dared to say
But the silence was unbroken, and the idiots gave no token
And the only words there spoken were my words that seemed to bore
So I repeated, like an echo again the words that seemed to bore
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the my house returning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon enough I heard a rapping, and this was louder than before.
'Really,' said I, 'really is this the game they want to play?
Let me see then, what they will say, when I next come to my door
When the sirens start screaming and I'm standing at my door
'Tis the police and nothing more!'
Open here I pulled the blinds, and, suddenly realized missed signs,
Outside he was shouting loudly, while the man was pimping whores
Not the least obeisance made he; nor respect did he pay me
Advertising to lords his lady, who perching by my door
Perched upon the stoop by lamppost, right in front of my door
Perched there sitting, and nothing more
Then this ebony bird beguiling conned some schmuck who was smiling
With the tube top and the short jean pants that she wore
'Though your hair be short and stately, you,' I said, 'are sure no lady
Skanky yes and surely shady wandering streets near my door
Tell me what they call you on the streets in front of my door!'
Quoth the hooker, 'Elenore.'
Little I marveled this fowl to hear discourse so plainly
Since it's answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever wanted prostitutes hanging out in front of his door -
Lady of the night by lamppost in front of his door
With such a name as 'Elenore.'
But the lady, sitting lonely by the lamppost, spoke only,
That one word, as if her soul in that one word she did outpour.
Nothing further then she uttered - nor her feathered hair fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered 'I've seen others like you before -
By tomorrow you'd better leave here, like those told off before.'
Then the lady said, 'Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so quickly spoken,
'Doubtless' said I, 'what you utter is only your stock and store,
Picked up from some unhappy pimp whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the rap-metal of his hope, melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."
But the women still beguiling, the shmuck who came over smiling,
Was unconcerned with the rocks I threw at him from my front door;
Then, upon the front porch sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this stupid, crazy whore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and unattractive whore
Meant by saying 'Nevermore'
So I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the chick whose fingers beckoned to any who would score;
Sat there in fact thinking, while my head felt like sinking
Back into my pillows that were inside on the second floor
But whose soft feathery sweetness there up on the second floor
Should feel my head, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Sweet and smelling like some herb, familiar I had smelled before
'Wretch,' I cried, 'your pimp has given - that for which you make a living
Respite - respite and nepenthe while he sells you door to door!
Quaff, oh quaffing nepenthe, get away from my front door!'
Quoth the hooker, 'Nevermore.'
'Druggie!' said I, 'thing of evil! - druggie if lady or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest washed you near my door,
Desolate yet all undaunted on this porch sitting planted
By my home you have haunted - tell me truly I implore -
Is there - is there pot in your car? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
Quoth the hooker, 'Not any more.'
'Druggie!' said I, 'thing of evil! - druggie if lady or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God I adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn
When I sleep shall see the maiden, and get back to those sunlit shores
Grab a few quick winks I'm needing, and dream upon the sunlit shores
Quoth the hooker, 'Who knows for sure?'
'Be those words our sign of parting, lady or fiend!' I yelled upstarting -
'Get back to the pimp who stands there waiting, drive away to other shores
Leave no black plume tailpipe trailing nor crocodile tears you're crying!
Hark I hear the sound of sirens! - They're getting closer to my door!
Better get to leaving, lest the sirens come to take you from my door!'
Quoth the hooker, 'You called the police, you son of a b..."
And in my bed my blankets fitting, still I sitting, still I sitting
Heard the sirens singing softly just outside of my front door;
Laid back closed my eyes seeming, to taste the breeze I would be dreaming,
When what should I feel, but sunlight creeping to my bed along the floor;
And my eyes fluttered open knowing with sunlight crawling on the floor
Sleep be granted - nevermore!
Thank you, I enjoyed that very much and it made me chuckle a little, especially "Tis some jackass", very clever take on the original.
ReplyDeleteThe first time I heard this poem was watching The Simpson's halloween special, but you will forgive me as I was 14 at the time. I have since read the poem in it's correct format.
Regards
TGG
http://thegaminggentleman.blogspot.com/
Thanks a lot. I love that Simpsons episode. Classic
ReplyDeleteCrows chase me. I know their secret handshake and I am telling everyone who will listen to me...they must be not allowed to live nevermore or anymore...whatever.
ReplyDelete@Pat, thanks very much. I've been told that before. lol
ReplyDelete@Cal, I believe you. I have a friendship with the bees. They won't sting me, and will respect my space.
I am down with the Bees.
ReplyDeleteBeneficial info and excellent design you got here! I want to thank you for sharing your ideas and putting the time into the stuff you publish! Great work!
ReplyDeleteYou are a very clever young whipper snapper, aren't you?
ReplyDeleteTS, This needs to be reposted! The whole time I was reading it, I kept thinking, 'I need to share this with people, people need to read this!'... And then my mind drifted to proposing marriage.
ReplyDelete*ahem*
If anything should ever happen to Mama Cow, wanna get hitched?
Keetha, I try to be. haha
ReplyDeleteAnna, sh-yeah, like I would wanna try following someone who had his own tanning bed.
I don't really like to do reposting, but if I were to, this one would be it. Most of my posts I do in a few minutes. This one took a few good hours spread throughout a week.
HOLD IT ONE MINUTE...if something happens to Mama Cow you will just be giving it away Anna? I am hurt that you won't open up the bidding because maybe I would like to submit my resume. No, forget it. I am hurt. TS has woman dropping from the skies onto his lap and you just made it easy for him again. Hurt. Just hurt.
ReplyDeleteKal! I'm so glad you came back to this post! Your comment, "nevermore or anymore...whatever", tickled me! I've chuckled to myself a couple of times since reading it.
ReplyDeleteYeah, TS. It's AMAZING. It is art. College students should be reading this and having discussions. Eddie Poe deserves his own wikipedia page.
I'm a little hurt to get passed over so easily. That was my first ever marriage proposal. Could you tell that I had my feet propped up instead of being on bended knee? Was that it? I'll try harder next time.
Very relieved that Kal is here to pick up the pieces.
Kal, you think it's easy having women drop on you from out of the sky? Think of what the top speed is. I've had three broken appendages and a fractured knee.
ReplyDeleteWell it serves you right for not working out the math for terminal velocity. Rookie mistake. I just wonder if these girls suspect they are going to go splot if you miss catching them.
ReplyDelete