Ah, yes, I was foolish and dumb in those twilight hours to come,
When my ‘puter did succumb and all my hopes it then did smash.
Anticipating trauma tragic - wishing for a sort of magic
From disks a sort of gadget - gadget for the ‘puter slash,
For the deadly and despicable virus the nerds have named LeBrash -
Error: Your file is now trash.
And the grating grind of the gears expounded all of my worst fears
The fright -- the sight of wisping smoke trailing from my ‘puter’s cache;
So that now, to fix this complication, I gave this reiteration:
“’Tis only a prank a person’s played with so-called virus named LeBrash -
Just a prank a person’s played with so-called virus named LeBrash;
This it is and not a crash.”
Suddenly my mind a thought struck; Oh, this is such brilliant luck,
“Prank,” said I, “or LeBrash, truly my mind it is that you thrash;
So that now I seek to destroy, with an insanely simple ploy,
The one who has dared to toy, to toy with my ‘puter cache,
And now I decimate you” -- here I opened up my stash --
Nothing there, not even trash.
Deep into emptiness staring, long I sat there wishing, glaring,
Fretting, fuming fiery thoughts of viruses turned to ash;
But the quiet was profound, and in the calm there was no sound,
Then the ‘puter speakers came ‘round and uttered name, “LeBrash!”
This I whimpered, and the speakers echoed back the name, “LeBrash!” -
So it is a ‘puter crash.
“Be that name your death warrant, prank or virus!” I cried, abhorrent -
“Get thee out of my computer and give me back my hammer stash!
Leave no files that are croakin’ caused by the name thou hath spoken!
Leave me my story unbroken! - Or with hammer you I’ll smash!”
With that I took a hammer, hidden well in a secret stash.
My computer I then did bash.
And the virus, never leaving, still is breathing, still is breathing
In the dying computer embers smoldering into ash;
But soon the evil will be dead, as soon as the coals show no red,
And my story on which it fed I will again from new rehash;
And my story from out that rubble that lies smoking in the ash
Will be lifted - take that, LeBrash!
Back to Year 2000 Poems.
