Shall be subjugated - nevermore! A Poetic moment in History.

Once on an election dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious desecration of the Law,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping with a practiced jaw.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `rapping with persuasive jaw -

Only this, no moral flaw.'

--

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in a bleak September,

And each slaughtered Ron Paul member writhing on convention floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From our plans surcease of sorrow – plans, the nation to restore -

For the rare and radiant nation whom the angels may restore -

‘ere Freedom die for evermore.

--

And the silken soft uncertain rustling of each grassroots burden

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic opportunities ne’er 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 your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

Faintly you attempted tapping our delegation’s strength on the Convention floor,

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,

calculating pecuniary motives that we’ve seen before

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lew Moore.'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lew Moore'

Merely this and nothing more.

--

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a rapping somewhat 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 -

Perhaps we’ll all go to coffee and this mystery explore; -

'Tis a friend and nothing more!'

--

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped an old consultant of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of agent shady, leaned against my chamber door -

Perched with an RNC name badge, just beside my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

--

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by evil spirit whose feet tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Sir,' I cried, `thy god hath lent thee – for some message he has sent

thee, tell me now, do not repent thee what’s the memo, I implore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the man whose bleary eyes now tranquilized my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

Til at last he said, while whining, “Above all we must avoid a war!”

Then he spoke for another hour with furrowed brow and countenance dour

He thought our consequences sour and almost brought me to a snore.

--

Much I marveled at his seeming wisdom to be simulating,

Though his answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing RNC hack by his door –

R3volution on his card, but John McCain boots on the floor,

Still repeating `I’m Lew Moore.'

--

Then this counselor, beguiling curiosity to smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,

`Though thy post be high and lofty, thou,' I said, speak much too broadly.

Can it be you think that “errors” drove the curse that we all bore?”

Subtle, sly, venal adviser wandering from the nightly shore -

Tell me of they true objective on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth the agent, `I’m Lew Moore.'

--

But the agent, sitting lonely on the fence betwixt, spoke only,

This one phrase, as if his soul in this one phrase he did outpour.

Not much further then he uttered – tried to speak but only stuttered -

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have lied before -

On the morrow he’ll deceive me, with concessions I abhor:'

“Don’t enjoin a Party war.”

--

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what he utters is his only stock and store,

Having left his prior master whom electoral disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his fate one burden bore -

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore:

“The only thing I love is Moore”

--

But the agent still beguiling my perplexity to smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat to listen to this purchased whore;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous hack of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous hack of yore

What this grim, ungainly, representative for the RINO corps

Meant in croaking `Flee a War!'

--

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the man whose bleary eyes now tranquilized 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,

Almost brought me to a snore.

--

Then, I cried, `thy god hath lent thee – for this message he has sent thee: “Above all we must avoid a war!”

Do not quaff this cruel nepenthe, and forget this lost Lew Moore!'

`Manager!' said I, `of evil! – staffer, both, of man and devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this candidate enchanted -

On this people by Slander haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Do you not discern your evil? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the agent, `Nevermore.'

--

`Manager!' said I, `of evil! – staffer, both, of man and devil! -

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God that I adore -

Will you not repent your evil: changing sides in moral WAR?

Will you not reach out to save him whom the RNC calls Moore -

Quoth the agent, `Nevermore.'

--

`Be that word our sign of parting, former friend!' I shrieked upstarting -

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no ink here as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my commitment still unbroken! - quit the mission I deplore!

Take thy arrow from my heart, and take thy shadow from my door!'

Quoth the agent, `I’m Lew Moore.'

--

And the agent, still unwitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

With a photograph of Quisling, just outside my office door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a neocon that’s dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

But my soul, beneath that shadow and the treachery it bore

--

Shall be subjugated- nevermore!

--