The Raving





Once upon a midnight dreary, hacking till my eyes turned bleary,
Over many quaint and curious program of forgotten code--
While I nodded, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a beeping,
As of some electron creeping, creeping round my laptop core.
“Tis some bug” I muttered softly, "creeping round my virtual core--
Only this and nothing more"

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate blink of cursor wrought its ghost upon my door.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books, sourcecode of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For my rash intolerant ex-wife, whom the angels name Lenore.
Nameless here for evermore.

Passionately I went debugging, logic loopholes needed plugging,
I could do without the hugging, snuggling from that nagging bore.
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
Rude instruction bears deleting, where there never was before.
“Tis some bug entreating entrance to my program from the core.
This it is and nothing more”.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
Printed forth a total core dump spilling out onto the floor.
Mindless of the chiming clock till I had been through all the octal.
Vain my search the null conclusion, printed sand on paper shore.
“Nothing”, cried fantastic terrors I had never fell before.
Only numbers nothing more.

Deep into the dark screen peering, long I sat there wondering, tearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no hacker ever dared to dreamed before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
Yet the only word there spoken was my curse "that witch, Lenore”
I would find this cursed albatross and name the flaw Lenore.
Mearly this and nothing more.

Back into the program turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard the beeping somewhat louder than before.
All the spirits in me sagging, in my brain the constant nagging,
Echoing her bitter ragging, standing in my study door.
"Turn it off and come to bed now, or you'll sleep upon the floor,
only there and nowhere more".

Hark the beeping ever bolder, icy hand upon my shoulder,
Centered high upon my phosphor, where there had been naught before.
There appeared a second cursor, in the image of a raven,
all was lost and near defeated, by this omen from the core.
Beeping stilled in deadening silence heard my whisper “Dread ... Lenore”.
Flashed the message, "NEVERMORE".

Falling back into my swivel, ordered thought ensnared in drivel,
Transfixed by the stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy' into smiling,
By the sharp inverted pixels of the countenance it wore.
"Answer foul fowl who has programmed you to issue from my core?"
Flashed the message, “NEVERMORE”.

Searching memory on the chance her words would promise me the answer
once again the bitter beeping, even louder than before.
"Would thou offer me no haven?" I beseeched my blinking raven,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore.
Disconnected he will leave me as my bugs have flown before,
yet, the message, "NEVERMORE”.

Standing, shaking ever longing for forgiveness for my wronging,
I must pull the plug and leave the beeping strangled in the core.
I would lust no further haven, clear the screen and damn the raven.
My departure unbelieving reads a sign upon the door;
"Cursed bug live on forever. I will seek thee nevermore!
Gone to search for my Lenore:

Gene Ziegler