The Land Of Edgar Allan

Remember The Raven?
We do around here.
The Domino too, upon sunset appears.
A fallen man's point.
An introvert's harbor.
Twas the land of Edgar Allan.
Need I say more?
E'er fouls, walks, run.
Not Edgar's Raven, the orange and black one.
Black-eyed Susan's - my back yard.
The dock of the bay - my front door.
Twas the land of Edgar Allan, hon
E'er, I say more.

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Edgar Allan Poe

These are the stories of Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
He'll tell you tales of horror
then he'll play with your mind
if you haven't heard of him
you must be deaf or blind
These are the stories of Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
He'll tell you about Usher
whose house burned in his mind
his love for his dear sister
her death would drive him wild
The murder of a stranger
the murder of a friend
the callings from the pits of hell
that never seem to end
These are the stories of Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
These are the stories of Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
The diabolic image of the city and the sea
the chaos and the carnage that reside deep within me
Decapitations, poisonings, hellish not a bore
you won't need 3D glasses to pass beyond this door
Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
No Nosferatu Vincent Price or naked women here
a mind unfurled, a mind unbent is all we have here
Truth, fried orangutans flutter to the stage
leave your expectations home
And listen to the stories of Edgar Allan Poe
We give you the soliloquy the raven at the door
flaming pits the moving walls no equilibrium
No ballast, no bombast
the unvarnished truth we've got
mind swoons guilty
cooking ravings in a pot
Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
Edgar Allan Poe
not exactly the boy next door
Tell-tale heart a rotting cask
a valley of unrest
a conqueror worm devouring souls
keep the best for last
Rings for Annie Lee
as Poe's buried alive
regretting his beloved's death in
all her many guises-a

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Edgar Allens Crow

All outside is white as snow,
except for Edgar Allen's crow.
Quietly and so serene,
till Edgar Allen's crow does scream.
Waking me from peaceful dreams,
to hatred in the night.
Now I know all Edgar Allen's,
madness in his write.
Stalkingly he walks the window,
pecking on the vane.
Now I know why Edgar Allen,
wrote of things insane.
Tis not a raven in my head,
that drives me to these words.
But this blackened beast which will not cease,
hes such a noisy bird.
I scream and shoo but he don't move,
seems fear he does not know.
Hes not a the raven that I think,
hes Edgar Allen's Crow.

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Shopping Without Edgar Allan

We will always shopping go
Without Edgar Allan Poe.
We go shopping, hopping, hopping,
From this store to that.
Edgar Allan was a Poe
Who never ever had to go
Shopping.

O.K., and so perhaps I lied,
And so perhaps his lovely bride,
Annabelle Lee and he
Went shopping, like
The rest of us.

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Remember Raven

Aah! ooh!
Aah! ooh!
While youre busy trying to conjure dirt upon me,
Your ponys sucked dry by an african bee.
The muck you rake is not enough to keep your turd at sea,
Remember the raven,
Remember the raven.
While your busy trying to weigh your power,
Your boats getting into fast water.
Lifes going down the river of no return,
Remember raven,
Remember raven.
Dont try to be a warden to history,
While trying to find a seat for your posterity.
You better tend your garden for your family.
Remember raven,
Remember raven.
Judas never got the key to heaven, you know.
Raven, raven, remember raven,
Remember raven.
Raven, raven, remember raven,
Remember raven.
Raven, raven, raven.

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Black-eyed Susan

Black-eyed susan
You make us nervous
Because were very aware that you do not care
Oh, black-eyed susan
What dont you believe in ?
No is always easier than yes
Whoo !
Black-eyed susan
You must insist :
You are a born-again atheist, oh
Oh, heavy-rings on
Bitten fingers
Black-eyed susan sometimes
Shakes to break
So, watch it
Oh ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Rest and do nothing
cause its the only thing that you do quite well
Aah ...
Black-eyed susan
Please remember
We were the first
We were the first
Oh ...

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My Favorite Poets

It could have been a John Doe
but it was Edgar Allan Poe
who wrote 'The Raven' and 'Annabel Lee'

It could have been a de-service
to Mr. Robert Service
for not acknowledging
'The cremation of Sam Mcgee'

And then there's 'Renescance'
with its unique elegance
by Edna st. Vincent Millay

Who joined the very few
writing their hearts out to you
becoming immortals, here today.


(Charlie Vergara/06.20.2009/1469)

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The raven of Edgar Poe

We need only time

To undergo metamorphosis....

The girl and the old woman

Keeping an eye on each other;

The raven screaming, solemnly:

-Nevermore!

O, the raven of Edgar Poe,

Which had guessed

Their secret...

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Little Raven

Little raven,
Where did you come from?
Little raven,
With your little black body.
Little raven,
With your long, shinny wings.
Little raven,
In mid flight.
Little raven,
With your frightening caw.
Little raven,
Why are you a sigh of death?

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Raven, Raven

I took my children to the Zoo.
That was in March of 1993
And there was a sharp wind.
We saw a black
Raven who had stories.
'Are you thirsty, Raven? '
They asked him.
He said: 'Raven, Raven.'
'Are you hungry, Raven? '
He said: 'Raven, Raven'
'Do you have a family, Raven? '
I asked.
He said: 'Raven, Raven.'
We came back smiling
My children and I.
The children left.
We remained: sharp wind and me.
We went to my apartment:
My memories and I.
Unbearable loneliness.
I went to a pub.
The waiter asked:
'Are you thirsty or hungry?
You are not with your kids tonight? '
I replied: 'RAVEN, RAVEN.'

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I Like That Bite of Edgar's

I like that bite of Edgar's.
That one that takes flight in the night.
To rest on chimneys...
Leaving a darkened shadow
Cast by a glowing full moon night!
I like that bite of Edgar's.
A troubled brilliance seeking escape.
From a mind that has suffered
From his own and others' heartbreaks.
And to sit alone with thoughts to write.
Allowing a forbidden bitterness,
The head will not forgive!
And to deliver a quick liquor shot.
To ease a pain felt.
But no one will believe!
Not from the words left behind,
One reads.
I like that bite of Edgar's.
After he is read.
And the gloom in Edgar's head remains...
He sustains,
With a style...
Not easily forgotten.
I like that bite of Edgar Poe's.
And I know now...
He had to numb to succumb,
To chance a romance he was after...
That flew away one day,
Into the darkened night!
And then...
Death seemed to have come knocking.
Knocking!
To repeat unrelentless-ly!


Dedicated to:
Edgar Allan Poe

'To feel such anguish within.
Touched by diversed experiences,
that brings a clarity to one's life.
So emotionally vivid...
One can only reach out to this world
in the form of writing to express the depths of our pain
and unaccepted sorrows we keep inside of us.
That undescripted anguish that torments, unresolved.'
~lsp~

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Perpetual Dream Of Life

How few shall ever know
dreams as dreamed
by inspired Edgar Alan Poe.


Edgar Allan Poe dreamed
great poetic dreams

and spun them
into poems which may
intrigue or sadden us,

some of these poems
attain haunting resonance
within the mind,

his poems are dreams
within the
perpetual dream of life.


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Edgar Allan Poe

Never to suffer would never to have been blessed.

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Edgar Allan Poe

I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.

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The Boy Named Edgar

There was a boy named Edgar
He met this girl when he was but of the mere young
They always played together and had so much fun
But one day a man approached and asked her for something
The boy couldn't understand
Her services were paid for
He tried to save her
But he only got her to hate him all the more
From the back door he walk through
Ripped her right off of him
Then with a hammer he bludgeon
The mans blood was spilled
What was done couldn't be undone
His name was Edgar and he just didn't understand
With a prison sentenced he was slammed
Forever to be marked a bad man

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Edgar Allan Poe

Of puns it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.

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The sky was the color of Edgar Allan Poe's pajamas.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Stupidity is a talent for misconception.

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Edgar Allan Poe

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

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Edgar Allan Poe

There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Sleep, those little slices of death, how I loathe them.

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