Nevermore | An episode of a shadow dream

[A/N: If anyone is confused, the character in this tale is drunk and yes, he had hallucinated the bird talking. The bird isn't real, it was a product of his hallucinated mind induced by alcholic drinking. Just a tribute to Edgar Allan Poe's poem, "Nevermore". This poem is interesting because I had been there with the hallucinations before and needed to be medicated to set the brain chemicals right.]



I.
Once upon a midnight dreary
the storm rages outside in it's lightening fury
I came upon a drunken stupor
in reverie and dreaming of my dear Lenore

"Lenore..." I murmurred. How drunk was I?
Damned drunk, because I began to stir her in my vision
and in my loins, hungry and thirsty for her,
but Lenore, oh Lenore was buried six feet under

I spied within my eye
the blasphemous bird
who dare sat upon the bust of Pallas
with it's unblinking demon eye
watching me, scrutinizing
then it's beak open to speak the unspeakable answer to my inquiry,
"Nevermore."

"Nevemore? Bird? Raven? What does it mean? What matter you speak off?"

The bird spoke yet again, "Lenore, nevermore."

"Blasphemous!" I cried.

The bird laugh and said, "Hahaha you're going to hell motherfucker."

"Devil! Dark plumes to match the wings of Satan itself! You are the servant of evil!"

Raving mad, drunk mad, I took the glass bottle, broke it
and with it a suitable weapon

I'm going to put this el diablo out of it's misery for tormenting me,
humiliating me,
"Lenore! Lenore!!!"
I wave the weapon at the demon like a madman
and it flew around to escape my fury

So much hollabaloo
a crash vase here
a tripped table there

and then I stabbed the thing
once I cornered it
and stab it over and over again
while cursing and swearing
this evil monster down to it's grave!

I won't rest or stop
until the deed is done!
It must be done!
To-night, it is a fight to the finish!

II.
I woke the next day,
with a massive hang over.
How long had I been out?
Methinks I drank too much absinthe
to the point I do not care
if even I wreck my own liver.

My mouth taste like ashes,
eyes and vision blurry,
muscle weak,
stomach don't feel.

Oh. OH! I remember now. The night before.
The bird, the hellish bird!
The Raven who dare quote Nevermore!

I looked at the corner expecting a corpse with black feathers...

To my horror,
nothing is there but broken beer glass.

Awaken from my stupor now,
I slowly realized that in my grief and madness,

I have imagined the poor, pitiful creature
as a mere shadow and hallucination
of my wakeful nightmare.

Nevermind

[A/N: Parody of the poem, "Nevermore" and yes, the character is Poe himself.]


Upon a daybreak day,
where morning isn't my friend
and the sun is too damned bright
I struggle with writer's block in a park

Morning is cold
Ate my breakfast
Want some tea
grumpy to everyone else
didn't care what they do
didn't talk to nobody

It's a normal day at the park.

I need a drink again
but alas broke and poor
and I just gotten over my hangover
the night before

And befell, a raven flew and landed
before my sight and it's a real raven

The Raven peered at me,
me the writer with pen and paper
and struggling with my own inner demons
its unblinking black eyes asking me,
"What are you writing, good sir?" [1]

I stared, not sure and uncertain to answer
not even my lovers can saved my damned soul
from the sheer tears and frustration of writing
a single line worth a damned .

So, knowing I'm quite insane
but having the confidence that I am a creative genious as well,
I said to the bird outloud,
but more so to myself,
and heaving a huge sigh,

Quote the writer and poet,
"Nevermind." With a wave of my hand,
"Now shoo! This is a work in progress! Unlike some of us,
we don't get free cake and bread like you do!" [2]

Behaving like most birds do, the raven flew away in haste,
as if saying,

"Well, good sir! Pardon me and Excuse you!"

~

[Note #1: The Raven represents the author herself, the Quantum Angel

Note #2:Reference to Marie Attoinette's quote. No relation to the theme of the poem other it's an allusion to Poe's poverty.]

[The Raven and the Crow:] #1: Lost and found

Her name is Ms. Rose Crow. She is an adult crow, young and full of life. Once upon a cold January, Ms. Crow is flying through the night sky on her return to home from a long day of work.

She found a raven lying rather sickly in the snow, and while he's rather short and small for a raven, but he's a raven nevertheless. He's well-dressed, like a gentleman, and his black plumes look smart, but dull and rather wrinkled and unwashed.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"No. I'm ill and homeless and have no place to go. My parents threw me out."

He does indeed look ill, she thought, for he looks slightly pale and famished. "Do you need money?"

"I need work and a place to stay."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No. I have no money for the hospital and I have no idea where to find a shelter."

"Well, if you stay out for the night, you'll surely die. There's going to be a blizzard tonight."

"Maybe."

"Maybe you deserve death because you're a drug addict and a drunk."

Depressingly, "Maybe, and I'm sorry about that. Damn me, I suppose. Now I surely done from having none of that with no money, not even to buy a decent loaf of bread."

"Shall I leave you?"

"If you want to. You probably didn't care about me anyway."

"What is your name?"

"I am Mr. Raven. Edgar Raven."

"Oh! Now I recognized you. You're the famous writer, weren't you? What were you doing in New York City."

He sighed, hating himself and his ill fortune already. "I travelled here to propose to a woman, but she rejected me, and now I have no money to travelled back home to Boston."

"Well, I won't leave you here. If you promise not to harm me, you can come with me to my place and stay for the night."

"I won't harm you, you have my promise on that."

So Mr. Raven got up from the street, dust off the snow from his coat of black feathers. His feather damped and wet. He tired and the cold ice numbed his muscle down to his very bones. "I'll fly slow, but I'll follow you."

The two birds flew off through the flurry of snow, which is turning into a storm through the night.

It's going to be an interesting weekend, she thought.

"Ms. Crow, what were you doing out here late at night?"

"Oh, I'm a nurse, working at the hospital."

"Is that why you're treating me like this, like I'm your patient?"

"Yes, I would like to think so."

"You shouldn't me treat me like this. I'm a junkie."

"Don't say that. Mr. Raven. Besides, I read your stories and like your work."

He look to the side, as if unsure and uncertain.

"You must be famished. When we get to our house, I'll make dinner for you."

There is an emotion in face, his eyes light up, as if the very thought made him feel better. "I would like that very much. I am very famished."

First meetings

If there is anyone I would like as a Spirit Guide, it would be Edgar Allan Poe among other things. I think he is really interesting. I always felt he's a professor in the spirit realm and he teaches and lectures his students with his discipline and knowledge.

In my mind, I met Mr. Poe in a park. He was busy writing about something, but his paper is a blank. A struggle for thought, writer's block. It's one of those wooden benches with a stone table.

I introduce myself and he looked up.

No words are exchanged and I gave him my poetry.

He reads, and he smiled. He didn't like the first one, but the second is funny.

"Your style is chunky, but straight to the point, warm, generous, and funny. What is your name?"

"Quantum Angel. I'm just star running amok the Universe, stirring up souls to their spark, and just do the shit that I do."

"But do you have a name?"

"There's a concourse of amicable agreement that I am Rose."

"Did you chose it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's a flower with a mystical power of true love and passions, and I like it red for the color of blood."

"Interesting."

"Well, later Professor. I must be off now. We'll meet again."

"...Adieu."