The Program

Once upon a midday plunder I stare at my machine in wonder

If it's worth the whole summer to buy a computer that's worth more.

Suddenly there came a ticking as if a time bomb was kicking,

Kicking in it's final ticking, ticking from the CD door.

Only this and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was the beginning of summer

And each separate homework paper ended up upon the floor.

Eagerly I pressed the ctrl – vainly I had tried to borrow

From my files surcease of sorrow – sorrow for my lost Lanore –

For the rare and radiant program which the company named Lanore.

Nameless here for evermore.

There is a virus detected, that is what my screen projected.

Deleted the files I protected with Norton I bought from the store.

And so now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

"I'm never buying Anti-virus again from that store.

Never am I buying Anti-virus again from that store.

I'll buy from them nothing more.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer.

Ctrl I pressed then alt and delete, "Work again I implore.

But the fact is now I'm licking your wounds sense you've been kicking

And so faintly you were ticking, ticking in the CD door.

That I was scarce was sure I heard you" – here I ejected the CD door.

Not a CD or anything more.

Deep into the laser peering, long I sat there wondering, fearing.

Doubting, dreaming dreams no nerd ever dared to dream before.

But the silence was unbroken and the laser gave no token

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word "Lanore."

This I whispered and the screen typed back the word "Lanore."

Merely this and nothing more.

Then closing the CD door turning, my TV dinner in the microwave burning.

Soon again I heard the ticking somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," Said I, "surely there must be something on my Windows XP.

Let me than, see, what I'll see and this mystery explore –

Let my hands be still a moment and this mystery explore –

'Tis a glitch and nothing more."

Open here is the file with my head still in denial.

Up popped a window entitled "Raven of the days of yore."

Not a game to play was it; not an advertisement was it;

But with a cursor to type it; and place to type some more.

Just a cursor, nothing more.

Then this electronic file beguiling my sad fancy into smiling

By the grave and stern decorum of the black back-drop it wore.

"Though thy entranced be sure unexpected," I typed, "you must be the virus detected.

Ghastly grim with no harm intended wandering off the telephone shore

Tell me what they file name is on the phone's internet shore!"

Then it typed, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled at this ungainly file for it to respond so plainly.

Though its answer had little meaning – little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing a virus that didn't destroy computer core.

A virus set itself upon his Windows that didn't destroy a computer's core.

With such name as Nevermore.

But the program, sitting lonely on the screen typed only

That one word as if its megabytes in that one word it did outpour.

Nothing further did it spell out-Not a letter did it print out

Till I scarcely more than typed out, "Other virus' have worked before.

On the morrow my computer will work, as my Macintosh worked before."

Typed the program, "Nevermore."

Startled at the screen saver broken by reply so aptly typened,

"Doubtless," typed I, "What it utters is the only memory store,

Wrote from some unhappy hacker whom unmerciful Disaster

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

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of 'Never-nevermore.'"

But the Program still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned chair in front of computer on desk with drawer;

Then, upon the cushioned seating, I betook myself to linking

Happening to happening, thinking what this ominous program and more-

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous program and more

Meant in writing "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the file whose fiery back-drop now burned into my computer's core;

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

On the cushion's velvet lining that the screen-light gloated o're

But whose velvet violet lining with the screen-light gloating o'er

It shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the screen grew denser, some words I typed, then got censored

Swung by Seraphim who is a hacker I have heard of before.

"Wretch," i typed, "thy company hath lent thee- by these wires they hath sent thee

Respite- respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lanore!

Quaff, of quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lanore!"

Quoth the Program, "Nevermore."

"Virus!" typed I, "Thing of evil!- virus still if file of devil!-

Whether hacker sent, or whether junk mail tossed thee to my computor,

Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert wallpaper enchanted-

I clicked 'home' and Horror haunted,- tell me truly, i implore-

Is there- is there balm www.Gilead?- tell me-tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Program, "Nevermore."

"Virus!" typed I, "Thing of evil!- virus still if file of devil!

By that internet that sends us mail to us - by that company we both adore-

Tell this soul of a sorrowed man if, within the distant land,

It shall clasp a sainted program whom the company names Lanore-

Clasp a rare and radiant program whom the company names Lanore-

Quoth the Program, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, file of fiend!" I typed, upstarting-

"Get thee back into the hacker and the phone's internet shore!

Leave no back-drop as a token of that lie that thy megabytes hath typened!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!- leave my screen and my computer's core !

Take thy words from out from my screen, and take thy form from off my computer's core!

Quoth the Program, "Nevermore."

And the program, never flickering, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the screen with no off button and in my computer's core;

And its back-drop have all the seeming of a virus' that is dreaming,

And the screen-light o're it streaming throws its shadow on the floor;

And my pizza from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore