The Raven

                            (for Edgar Allan Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary,
While I pondered drunk and weary,
Suddenly there came a tapping
Of a visitor, gently rapping,
Rapping at my TV screen.
A black Raven then appeared,
Told me: "Buddy, you've got to hear
That smash album I recorded--
Psychologically disordered
And deliciously obscene."
So I thought, oh what a pleasure!
I'd listen to it at leisure,
Having one too many beers,
When the only thing I'd hear
Is this Raven in my head,
Telling me that all is dead.
Only then I'll feel the sound
Of the mainstream underground,
Punk, rap, metal, and broken skis.
Then I'll know that nothing matters--
Not the music, not the chatter,
Not the burger, not the cheese.
Then I'll think of you, my dear,
After yet another beer
And I'll cry myself to sleep.

                                            February 16, 2000
                                         --Alexander Shaumyan