I woke up early one morning The earth lay cold and still When suddenly a tiny bird Perched on my windowsill He sang a song so lovely So carfree and so gay That all my troubles Began to slip away He sang of far off places Of laughter and of fun It seemed that his very trilling Brought up the morning sun I stirred beneath the covers Crept slowly out of bed Then gently shut the window and crushed its fucking head I am not a morning person
The Night Before Christmas Twas the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed. He cussed out the elves and threw down his list. Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks I have a good mind to scrap the whole works. I've busted my ass for damn near a year, Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear? The old lady bitches cause I work late at night The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight. Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS And just when I thought that things would get better Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money? And the kids these days - they all are the pits They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM! Flying through the air...dodging the trees Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!
This one is good. It's not funny, but it's a classic... "The Raven" by 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." Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly yours forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping - tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door: - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" - This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore! - Merely this and nothing more. Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above this chamber door - Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before," Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore Of 'Never-nevermore.'" But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this Home by Horror haunted - tell me truly I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? tell me - tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore. Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting - "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting - still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a Demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!
see Kozmo , i totally did not get that ..... maybe i'm not thinkin rite... When i'm not in my right mind , my left mind gets pretty crowded .
Now Etalis, you just got done explaining the consequences of double posting on another thread and then you go and do it here. Tisk, tisk. :smile: BTW, it is nice to make your acquaintance.
thank you kozmo for bringing some much needed class and style to this forgoten wasteland of hell's denizens. that is one of my all time favorite pieces of literature, that and the cat in the hat :grin: it's good to see the classics are'nt forgotten
I suck when it comes to poems and songs and the hidden messages and all that sort of stuff. I mean, I am extremely stupid when it comes to that stuff. I miss the point almost every time. As for my favourite poem, well, I don't really have one (and I know I should). I do remember 'Death Be Not Proud' by John Deere or something like that, and that was pretty cool. Depressing, but cool.
