Once upon a midnight smokey
, while I pondered
, weak and cokey
Over days I did drugs
, but my body craved
Spazzing out, my arms were flapping
, suddenly there came a tapping,
Startled, I stopped my whappping
, flapping on the crummy
“Tis some dealer
,” I muttered, “tapping at my broken door
My mind can only count to four
Ah, distinctly I remember: it was impounded
My tie-dyed member – van with blue flowers on the floor.
Wallowing in my sorrow
– Crying out for the morrow –
From my aunt was forced to borrow, borrow an old two door –
The chassis of a Volvo
, no use to restore -
Up on blocks, down by the shore
And the rainbow colored
rustling of each beaded curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with the need to take more;
Listening to the beating of my heart
– whoops, stopped repeating;
“Tis some visitor dealing substance
at my Volvo door –
Some high visitor, dealing down by the shore –
He has come frequently before”
Then again my heart beat
stronger, pumping blood
, must live longer!
,” said I, “or dudette, that noise
is real hard to ignore.
For the fact is I was napping and so faintly you came tapping” –
This is where I hit the floor
Stumbling up, latch thrown
, I kicked open wide the door –
hung there, and nothing more.
Deep into that hazy clearing, dumbfounded, I sat there, wondering, peering,
, my stash
I was forced to store.
In the backseat, back to smokin', 30 seconds in, started chokin',
And the only word there spoken was my frenzied cry for more.
This I shouted, and an echo
murmured back the word, “More?”
That one word chilled me to the core
Back into the Volvo turning, all that smoke within me burning,
Another hit, and I was somewhat lighter
“Man,” said I, “that’s gotta be something at my broken window;
Let me see then, what’s upon me out here, offshore.
Let my hands be still a moment and my sanity
I have my stash to fend for.”
Open here I swung the ingress, when, with many a hop in progressed,
In there hopped a tie-dyed bunny
of the Woodstock days of yore;
Not a trace of turd laid he, not a moment plopped or played he;
Then, without the least hello bade me, jumped upon the forward door –
Perched below my dangling dice
and upon my dash-board
Hopped, and laughed
, and nothing more
I think this fruity little bunny
found himself rather funny,
The crasher of a party
about to be shown the door,
“Though you may seem quite the being, thou,” I said, “should be off and fleeing,
seem quite lucky and they’re getting hard to ignore.
I sure could use that luck
upon you, much as I would hate the gore!”
Quoth the bunny, “Hardcore
Much I wondered how a rodent
of such color, could very clearly mutter,
Such a comment to describe me, my whole self and more.
For I could not help but being what this little guy was seeing,
My whole mind set to screaming
by what was yet to explore.
Painted bunny seated with rapture
next to my passenger door.
With so much insight as to say “Hardcore”.