Musing.... from croc (via Glenny)
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2011 1:36 pm
WARNING!! Definitely X RATED - (Now cleaned).
A poem by croc (his idea of a loveletter). He's been fighting with a new pc, in a caravan, in a cattle field, in the twilight zone.
Read on...if you dare,
Glenny
________________________________________
Musing....
© 2011 croc
Musing....
I have written you a letter... which I have, for want of better
knowledge, sent it to your Bigpond email... three times in a row.
I was striving when I wrote it and verbatim I can’t quote it,
but the facts and matters written, will be known by those who know.
All the three of them directed, in a f*** up unexpected,
by the kindly man who writes the drives and runs the bloody show.
And he’s writing yet I know it... but connections, updates blow it;
so the f***ers never leave the box... ain’t that the bloody go
In my wild and p***ed orf humour, I can ideate the tumour
that is sitting in a glass lined orfice drinking S.O.P.
They toast fame, our men of learning, while consumers wail in yearning
for the old stuff back and running; oh how easy could it be.
Complications by the number from downloading while you slumber
in the arms of Morpheus and dreaming installs are all good.
Then you wake and stand there wailing as the downloads, ever failing,
drop their bundles, seize the system, turn the p/c into wood.
I am sat in all my glory in the bush, can’t tell my story,
for the interactive ‘Techno’ sh** has failed me; oh the pain.
Seems like someone ever humble went and left a Telstra bundle
on the open net for all to see... and copy...once again.
Me and Google, we aren’t talking... I can’t phone a cab, I’m walking
to the shop that sells the software ‘remedalis nilph**wurk.’
They say, ‘Product can’t be finer, made by eager men in china,
but it no work better, download speed too weak and low you burk.
And the bastard’s programme daunts me, and their sh**house software haunts me
as the downloads trickle softly down the inside of the case.
With their eager hands so greedy taking money from the needy
and the poor addicted gamers, who no longer stand the pace
No I couldn’t bloody fancy chasing after trendy Nancy
in her viral ridden orfice where her viral sh**’s unfurled.
While I sit back pleasure driving, I’d but like to see her striving
trying hard to make the download, Nancy of the viral world
A poem by croc (his idea of a loveletter). He's been fighting with a new pc, in a caravan, in a cattle field, in the twilight zone.
Read on...if you dare,
Glenny
________________________________________
Musing....
© 2011 croc
Musing....
I have written you a letter... which I have, for want of better
knowledge, sent it to your Bigpond email... three times in a row.
I was striving when I wrote it and verbatim I can’t quote it,
but the facts and matters written, will be known by those who know.
All the three of them directed, in a f*** up unexpected,
by the kindly man who writes the drives and runs the bloody show.
And he’s writing yet I know it... but connections, updates blow it;
so the f***ers never leave the box... ain’t that the bloody go
In my wild and p***ed orf humour, I can ideate the tumour
that is sitting in a glass lined orfice drinking S.O.P.
They toast fame, our men of learning, while consumers wail in yearning
for the old stuff back and running; oh how easy could it be.
Complications by the number from downloading while you slumber
in the arms of Morpheus and dreaming installs are all good.
Then you wake and stand there wailing as the downloads, ever failing,
drop their bundles, seize the system, turn the p/c into wood.
I am sat in all my glory in the bush, can’t tell my story,
for the interactive ‘Techno’ sh** has failed me; oh the pain.
Seems like someone ever humble went and left a Telstra bundle
on the open net for all to see... and copy...once again.
Me and Google, we aren’t talking... I can’t phone a cab, I’m walking
to the shop that sells the software ‘remedalis nilph**wurk.’
They say, ‘Product can’t be finer, made by eager men in china,
but it no work better, download speed too weak and low you burk.
And the bastard’s programme daunts me, and their sh**house software haunts me
as the downloads trickle softly down the inside of the case.
With their eager hands so greedy taking money from the needy
and the poor addicted gamers, who no longer stand the pace
No I couldn’t bloody fancy chasing after trendy Nancy
in her viral ridden orfice where her viral sh**’s unfurled.
While I sit back pleasure driving, I’d but like to see her striving
trying hard to make the download, Nancy of the viral world
