I'm going to drop this extremely, heavily plagiarized poem on you, then explain things afterwards!!! I'm pretty sure that Poe is in no position to sue!
LET THE STORY BEGIN THROUGH THE PLAGIARAZATION OF THE ONE AND ONLY EDGAR ALLAN POE! Greatest poet of all time!
---------------------------------------------------------------
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December. I was very tired, nay, weary - when a munching, slightly crunching, ever munching, came from just outside my hammock door.
And the soft, uncertain crunching, of each grain of rice a munching. Thrilled and filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before!
So that now, I lay repeating, to still my anxious heart from beating - "Tis some visitor entreating, entrance at my hammock door". This it is and nothing more.
Deep into darkness peering, long I lay there wondering, fearing, is this a bear or something more. Hence the silence, lightly broken by the crunching, softly munching - Is this a bear and nothing more.
Back into my hammock turning, all adrenaline within me burning. Soon again the munching, slightly louder than before. "Surely" said I, "this must be the saintly bear of yore".
Open here, I shot my flashlight and with many snortly protest at light, stopped the crunching of the silver swine adored.
Then the silver swine beguiling my sad fancy into smiling.
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
Ghastly grim and ancient swine wandering from the Nightly shore.
"Tell me what thy lordly name is, on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Swine, "Evermore"
As if in that one word did his soul he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered - not a hair then did he flutter.
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before ----
Then the swine said, "Evermore"
Startled by the stillness broken, by reply so aptly spoken
"Doubtless" said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store"
Caught as I by some Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his snorts one burden bore
Of 'Ever-evermore'
But the Swine still beguiling all my fancy into smiling
Straight I turned into my hammock while swine stood outside my hammock door
Then, upon the nylon sinking, I betook myself to thinking
Thinking what this ominous swine of yore meant in croaking "Evermore"
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the swine whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosoms core.
This and more I lay divining, with my head at ease reclining
on the hammock with no lining as the flashlight gloated o'er.
I shall travel, travel EVERMORE
"Wretch," cried I "thy God hath lent thee----by these angels he hath sent thee"
Respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of my days of yore
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget the days of yore
Quoth the swine, "Evermore".
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-----prophet still, if swine or devil!"
Get thee snout from out my heart and thy form from off the plain outside my hammock door
Quoth the swine, "Evermore"
"Be that word our sign of parting, swine or FIEND!" I shrieked, upstarting leave my Roni on the plains of the mountain I adore!
"Get the back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Leave no sign as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken
Leave my loneliness unbroken! --- quit the plain outside my door!
Take thy snout from out my heart and take thy form, leave my door
Quoth the swine, "Evermore"
And the swine, never shifting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the plain just outside my hammock door.
And the flashlight o'er him streaming, throws his shadow before he gores
And my soul from out that shadow still lies floating just outside my hammock door
So that soul, still lies yearning, ever burning, always turning --never lifted as I travel
"TRAVEL EVERMORE"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Please give yourself a gift that will keep on giving this Holiday Season and read "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe.
For those that are unfamiliar -- I would say that I borrowed heavily from one of the best poems ever written - Edgar Allan Poes "The Raven" but that wouldn't do justice to what I've done. What I did was outright plagiarism but I think that's OK because if you don't try to claim it as yours is it plagiarism or "fan fiction"? Either way most of this story is copied directly from The Raven, sometimes word for word. Since I'm not trying to make any money off of it and I'm not trying to pass it off as my own, also since he passed away some time ago, I think I'm ok. It's your site, I freely admit that I used the work of his tortured soul to more closely represent my tortured soul by changing a few words and leaving a few lines and themes out. If you want to delete it I'm good with that.
The real story is that a small herd of Javelina came into camp a couple of weeks ago and stole a box of my Rice-A-Roni, it's a San Francisco treat you know, from on top of the food tote about three feet from my head while I was asleep in the hammock in the picture. They then carried it all of ten feet before they started the lightly crunching, gently munching. The adrenaline rush was straight up tits and well worth a SF treat or two because Javelina are mean lil motherfuckers especially with young and this herd had young. Look up Javelinas if you don't believe me.
Also before anyone gets all butthurt about me keeping a careless camp. Yes, it was a mistake, the food should have been stored. Yes, I regret it. Yes, it could have been a bear and it could have been much worse - bear or swine. Yes, I know better - AND FINALLY - No, there's nothing that you can admonish me about that I haven't already thought of. It was a mistake that I tried to turn into decent story through the power of a brilliant poets (Poe) genius! Thanks, YO! Merry Xmas!
PS and Such - In one of these photos you can actually see the munched box of SF Treat to the right of the camp chair if you look hard enough.
LET THE STORY BEGIN THROUGH THE PLAGIARAZATION OF THE ONE AND ONLY EDGAR ALLAN POE! Greatest poet of all time!
---------------------------------------------------------------
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December. I was very tired, nay, weary - when a munching, slightly crunching, ever munching, came from just outside my hammock door.
And the soft, uncertain crunching, of each grain of rice a munching. Thrilled and filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before!
So that now, I lay repeating, to still my anxious heart from beating - "Tis some visitor entreating, entrance at my hammock door". This it is and nothing more.
Deep into darkness peering, long I lay there wondering, fearing, is this a bear or something more. Hence the silence, lightly broken by the crunching, softly munching - Is this a bear and nothing more.
Back into my hammock turning, all adrenaline within me burning. Soon again the munching, slightly louder than before. "Surely" said I, "this must be the saintly bear of yore".
Open here, I shot my flashlight and with many snortly protest at light, stopped the crunching of the silver swine adored.
Then the silver swine beguiling my sad fancy into smiling.
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
Ghastly grim and ancient swine wandering from the Nightly shore.
"Tell me what thy lordly name is, on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Swine, "Evermore"
As if in that one word did his soul he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered - not a hair then did he flutter.
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before ----
Then the swine said, "Evermore"
Startled by the stillness broken, by reply so aptly spoken
"Doubtless" said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store"
Caught as I by some Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his snorts one burden bore
Of 'Ever-evermore'
But the Swine still beguiling all my fancy into smiling
Straight I turned into my hammock while swine stood outside my hammock door
Then, upon the nylon sinking, I betook myself to thinking
Thinking what this ominous swine of yore meant in croaking "Evermore"
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the swine whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosoms core.
This and more I lay divining, with my head at ease reclining
on the hammock with no lining as the flashlight gloated o'er.
I shall travel, travel EVERMORE
"Wretch," cried I "thy God hath lent thee----by these angels he hath sent thee"
Respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of my days of yore
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget the days of yore
Quoth the swine, "Evermore".
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-----prophet still, if swine or devil!"
Get thee snout from out my heart and thy form from off the plain outside my hammock door
Quoth the swine, "Evermore"
"Be that word our sign of parting, swine or FIEND!" I shrieked, upstarting leave my Roni on the plains of the mountain I adore!
"Get the back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Leave no sign as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken
Leave my loneliness unbroken! --- quit the plain outside my door!
Take thy snout from out my heart and take thy form, leave my door
Quoth the swine, "Evermore"
And the swine, never shifting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the plain just outside my hammock door.
And the flashlight o'er him streaming, throws his shadow before he gores
And my soul from out that shadow still lies floating just outside my hammock door
So that soul, still lies yearning, ever burning, always turning --never lifted as I travel
"TRAVEL EVERMORE"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Please give yourself a gift that will keep on giving this Holiday Season and read "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe.
For those that are unfamiliar -- I would say that I borrowed heavily from one of the best poems ever written - Edgar Allan Poes "The Raven" but that wouldn't do justice to what I've done. What I did was outright plagiarism but I think that's OK because if you don't try to claim it as yours is it plagiarism or "fan fiction"? Either way most of this story is copied directly from The Raven, sometimes word for word. Since I'm not trying to make any money off of it and I'm not trying to pass it off as my own, also since he passed away some time ago, I think I'm ok. It's your site, I freely admit that I used the work of his tortured soul to more closely represent my tortured soul by changing a few words and leaving a few lines and themes out. If you want to delete it I'm good with that.
The real story is that a small herd of Javelina came into camp a couple of weeks ago and stole a box of my Rice-A-Roni, it's a San Francisco treat you know, from on top of the food tote about three feet from my head while I was asleep in the hammock in the picture. They then carried it all of ten feet before they started the lightly crunching, gently munching. The adrenaline rush was straight up tits and well worth a SF treat or two because Javelina are mean lil motherfuckers especially with young and this herd had young. Look up Javelinas if you don't believe me.
Also before anyone gets all butthurt about me keeping a careless camp. Yes, it was a mistake, the food should have been stored. Yes, I regret it. Yes, it could have been a bear and it could have been much worse - bear or swine. Yes, I know better - AND FINALLY - No, there's nothing that you can admonish me about that I haven't already thought of. It was a mistake that I tried to turn into decent story through the power of a brilliant poets (Poe) genius! Thanks, YO! Merry Xmas!
PS and Such - In one of these photos you can actually see the munched box of SF Treat to the right of the camp chair if you look hard enough.
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