Or "Goinin' Poeeee-stal"


As I slumbered in my office,
Well hung over, and quite nauseous,
Caused by a raucous party the night before.
Did I hear a noise resounding???
Or was it my poor head a-pounding??
( With all that pain and suffering, I wasn’t sure..)
…..Only that and nothing more.

Then suddenly my door was opening,
While I lay there, barely coping.
What entered was the cutest thing you could adore.
T’was a bunny, pink and furry,
Beheld my eyes, all red and blurry;
Treading…. quickly treading ‘cross my office floor.
……..A pink bunny, nothing more.

When suddenly, my brain, it’s numbing,
For there’s a drum the rabbit’s drumming,
Causing pain and pressure, by the score.
And rapidly I am despising
The drum beats of this Energizing
Bunny…deeply, very deeply into my core.
…..Make him stop forevermore!!

Now the noise, it’s overcoming,
My mind’s eroding, fast succumbing,
With chaos that my tender brain cannot endure.
While I lay there, still half plastered,
I want to kill that furry bastard.
That’s when I grasp a nearby two-by-four
…….Energize me nevermore

Without another word then spoken
I swung it till his head is broken;
Abundant pink and furry stuff galore.
The blasted drum, for now, at least is
Broken in a million pieces.
Broken…forever broken, on my office floor,
……Now peace and quiet, nothing more.

Then I grabbed that retched rabbit,
With scissors then I jabbed it, stabbed it.
Till nothings left of it I should abhor.
When finally my drab surrounding’s
Engulfed in peacefulness astounding
Now unto my couch to sleep, perhaps to snore.
….. (This poem goes on forevermore)

Unlike Edgar Allen Poe
I’ll shorten now this tale of woe;
For again there comes a knocking on my office door.
(Even though it doesn’t show it
I’m writing like a two-bit poet)
My mind is slowly running out of metaphor.
….A few more verses, nothing more!!

And while I lay there still unshaven,
What walks in …a loud mouth raven?
Quote the boisterous raven, “Get up, it’s almost four”
I rise, then I began a-mumbling,
I know my soddened mind is crumbling;
Reach in my desk; bring out my Smith and Wesson '.44 '
...Why had not I thought of this before?

Then with careful aim that day,
I blew his feathered ass away.
His dripping jellied innards splashed on my décor.
Now back to sleeping, dribbling slobber.
Enjoined in dreams, weird and macabre.
Squawked the raven nevermore…
....for never will that raven squawk....evermore…….

03/17/2005

Author's Note: I do love Poe's works; but I love to recreate a bit of tongue in cheek humor to the rhythem of the classics.

Posted on 03/17/2005
Copyright © 2024 Fredrich Mohre