Poe’s "The Ravin’" (Darth Cheney)

(If Poe were alive today, perhaps he’d have written THIS)

THE RAVIN’

 

Once upon the TV,dearie, while I pondered Foley (queerie?)

I thought "It’s quaint and curious, but what a frightful bore!"

While disgusted and not clapping,suddenly there came a tapping,(not from TV overlapping),but instead a gentle rapping,bugging me right to the core!

"’Tis the radio", I muttered,"just rap music, please no more!"

Only this, it makes me sore!

 

Oh,how stinky,I remember,please not another rigged November!,when each stolen vote was shifted to Bush from Gore!

Eagerly, amidst my sorrow, I thought "They’ll steal or borrow all the ballots on the ’morrow,yes,there will be MORE sorrow, all our chances out the door!"

Yes,our chances to prevail shall most certainly decline (just as I said before).

 

Nameless shame for evermore!

 

Yes, the sad uncertain feeling which has our people hurtin’,scares me....

fills me with fantastic terrors scarcely felt before;

So that now, thinking of the Bush,Blackheart, I just deplore.

 

There’s a visitor, a knock at my front door, some late visitor to see me (Hell, what for?)

That is it...and nothing more.

 

Presently then,my mind grew stronger,hesitating,yes, no longer

"Sir",said I,"Whoever you may be,do enter I implore. I was scarcely sure I heard you..here..open wide the door"

 

The Darth Cheney there, and nothing more.

 

Deep into that black clad visage, peering, long I stood there, wondering,...fearing...

Trembling,knowing nightmares no mortal dared to dream before.

The silence was disturbed by a presence most absurd, and the only word then spoken was the whisper:

 

"I am the Darth"

 

This he whispered, and I knew Dick Cheney, he was the Darth,

Merely this...and nothing more.

 

Back in my chambers, churning, he spake and my soul was burning, "Let me see,then,what threat this is,yes, this misery I deplore"

 

Let my heart relax a moment and this misery explore "A small nuisance,nothing more"

 

Open! I did fling the shutter,then, with the stench of gutter, in there stepped my cause of "ravin’",yest the Dark Lord "Dick", not the least obeissance made,not a moment stopped, delayed, he...

But with shadow born of evil,uttered breath which made me sick!

Entered portal near my portrait of Al Gore, sighed and sat...and nothing more.

 

Then this ebony fiend, snarling, my sad fancy did effect by the grave and stern decorum..

of foul countenance he wore.

"Though my nerves are shorn and craven,thou" I said, "hast got me ravin’"

Yea, with anger I am ravin’!, get thee hence thou filthy whore!

We know what thy "Lordly Name" is

on your master’s Stygian shore.

 

Now I’m ravin’....nevermore.