Computer Errors Haiku

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In Japan, Sony Vaio machines have replaced the impersonal and unhelpful Microsoft error messages with their own Japanese haiku poetry.

Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.

A file that big?
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.

The Web site you seek
Can not be located but
Countless more exist.

Chaos reigns within.
Reflect, repent, and reboot.
Order shall return.

ABORTED effort:
Close all that you have worked on.
You ask way too much.

Yesterday it worked.
Today it is not working.
Windows is like that.

First snow, then silence.
This thousand dollar screen dies
So beautifully.

With searching comes loss
And the presence of absence:
“My Novel” not found.

The Tao that is seen
Is not the true Tao, until
You bring fresh toner.

Stay the patient course
Of little worth is your ire
The network is down

A crash reduces
Your expensive computer
To a simple stone.

Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.

You step in the stream,
But the water has moved on.
This page is not here.

Out of memory.
We wish to hold the whole sky,
But we never will.

Having been erased,
The document you’re seeking
Must now be retyped.

Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared.
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

Computer Blessing

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Blessings on this fine machine,
May its data all be clean.
Let the files stay where they’re put,
Away from disk drives keep all soot.
From its screen shall come no whines,
Let in no spikes on power lines.
As oaks were sacred to the Druids,
Let not the keyboard suffer fluids.
Disk full shall be no more than rarity,
The memory shall not miss its parity.
From the modem shall come wonders,
Without line noise making blunders.
May it never catch a virus,
And all its software stay desirous.
Oh let the printer never jam,
And turn my output into spam.
I ask of Eris, noble queen,
Keep Murphy far from this machine.

Abort, Retry, or Ignore?

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Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond’ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.
“Save!” I said, “You cursed machine! Save my data from before!”
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
Just, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I’d never faced before.
Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
From “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

To this day I do not know, the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there’s C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, “Abort, Retry, Ignore?”

Training Your Human

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Training your human is a thankless task.
“Why bother with it?”, some kittens may ask.
The fate of the world is the issue at hand,
as felines worldwide stake a claim for their land.
Make no bones about it, we cats own the joint.
We spray in the corners to drive home the point.

Some say the meek shall inherit the Earth,
But they’ve no fangs or claws, for what that’s worth.
The cat is the ultimate species, you see,
We’re poised to usurp man’s authority.
These silly old humans who cannot play nice!
We cats are peaceful, we hate only mice.

Just what does training your human entail?
A host of fun things you must do without fail:
The sofas and rugs need a little makeover.
The La-Z-Boy’s target for kitty takeover.
Then sleep on clean towels placed in the guest bath.
And make their best clothing a target of wrath.

Tear down those new drapes with a quick forceful tug.
Then tatter the pile of the new berber rug.
And when they are sleeping, you block off their nose,
paw at their lower lip, chew on their toes.
Strut on the mantle. If they give any flack,
knock down their trophies and all bric-a-brac.

Shed on mom’s new velvet black evening gown,
as she’s headed out for a night on the town.
If they leave you home all alone for the night,
(Any human doing this can’t be all that bright),
They’re telling you by leaving, it’s perfectly all right,
To totally redecorate ’til dawn’s early light.
Knock over tables and chew up the fern.
Hurry, go faster! Soon, they’ll return…

When they try to punish, you mustn’t show concern.
(All attempts of discipline a pussycat should spurn).
A snide flick of tail will convey no remorse,
but they will try harder to scold you, of course!
So, hide in the closet until they forget,
and then launch out just like an F-14 jet.

Tear up their ankle, their forearm, their hand,
then when they’ve had all the pain they can stand,
dart from the room while they call 9-1-1,
and celebrate victory: The felines have won!
To humans, however, the battle’s begun,
as they steep in their anger and wish for a gun.

Pathetic and lumbering and clumsy to boot,
My friend, human dominance is really a hoot.
Take charge in your home. It’s destiny, meow.
(The verses above have already told how).
So sleep for an hour, and then grab some chow,
And then train your human, beginning right now.

A Kitten’s Prayer

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Now I lay me down to sleep,
The king-size bed is soft and deep..
I sleep right in the center groove
My human cannot hardly move!

I’ve trapped her legs, she’s tucked in tight
And here is where I pass the night
No one disturbs me or dares intrude
Till morning comes and “I want food!”

I sneak up slowly to begin
my nibbles on my human’s chin.
She wakes up quickly,
I have sharp teeth – And my claws I will unsheath

For the morning’s here and it’s time to play
I always seem to get my way.
So thank you Lord for giving me
This human person that I see.

The one who hugs me and holds me tight
And sacrifices her bed at night!

Cat Prayer

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Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray this cushy life to keep.
I pray for toys that look like mice,
And sofa cushions, soft and nice.
I pray for gourmet kitty snacks,
And someone nice to scratch my back,
For windowsills all warm and bright,
For shadows to explore at night.
I pray I’ll always stay real cool
And keep the secret feline rule
To NEVER tell a human that
The world is really ruled by CATS!

~ Author Unknown

Catlette’s Soliloquy

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To go outside, Or to remain within:
That is the question;
Whether ’tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And by so dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock’s bright gears with sullen time
and stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare
Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal’s opened up, to stand
As if transformed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there’s the hairball;
For if paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
as simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household’s petty plagues
The cook’s well-practiced kicks, the butler’s broom,
The infant’s careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten?
Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor’s yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans’ faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale
brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause on the threshold of decision.

~Shakespaw~

Cat Haiku

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You never feed me.
Perhaps I’ll sleep on your face.
That will sure show you.

You must scratch me there!
Yes, above my tail!
Behold, elevator butt.

The rule for today
Touch my tail, I shred your hand.
New rule tomorrow.

In deep sleep hear sound
cat vomit hairball somewhere
will find in morning.

Grace personified.
I leap into the window.
I meant to do that.

Blur of motion, then-
silence, me, a paper bag.
What is so funny?

You’re always typing.
Well, let’s see you ignore my
sitting on your hands.

My small cardboard box.
You cannot see me if I
can just hide my head.

Terrible battle.
I fought for hours. Come and see!
What’s a ‘term paper’?

Small brave carnivores
Kill pine cones and mosquitoes
Fear vacuum cleaner

I want to be close
to you. Can I fit my head
inside your armpit?

Wanna go outside.
Oh, crap! Help! I got outside!
Let me back inside!

Oh no! Big One
has been trapped by newspaper!
Cat to the rescue!

Humans are so strange.
Mine lies still in bed, then screams
My claws are not that sharp.

Cats meow out of angst
“Thumbs! If only we had thumbs!
We could break so much!”

The Big Ones snore now
Every room is dark and cold
Time for “Cup Hockey”

We’re almost equals
I purr to show I love you
Want to smell my butt?

The Day The Service Died

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A long, long time ago, I can still remember
when I dialed up their help desk lines.
And I knew if I had the chance,
they could make my modem dance
with chats and GIFs and silly pick-up lines.
But, Help Desk phone calls made me shiver
with every busy they’d deliver.
Bad news on the front page,
A 19-hour outrage.
I can’t remember if I cried
when I realized that Steve Case had lied.
But something touched me deep inside,
The day, the ser-vice died.

So, Bye-Bye to Amer’ca Online,
Drove my modem to a domain and it’s working just fine.
And good old geeks are cheering users offline.
Saying this’ll be the day that they die. This’ll be the day that they
die.

Did you write the book of TOS,
Will you send your password to PWD-BOSS if an IM tells you so.
And will you believe the Motley Fool when he tells you that the service
rules,
And, can you teach me how to web real slow?
Well, I know you sold the service short,
‘Cause I saw your quarterly report.
Steve Case sold off his stock, It fell just like a rock.
It was a crazy, costly high-tech play,
as they slashed away at what subscribers pay,
And half their users went away,
the day the service died.

Well for two days we’ve been on our own
And dial-ins click on a rolling phone
But that’s not how it used to be,
When the mogul came to Virginia court,
With an OS icon and a browser port,
And a desktop that looked like Apple III.
And while Jim Clark was looking down,
The mogul stole his thorny crown,
The browser war was turned,
Mozilla,… was spurned.
And while Steve left users out to bond,
With hosts unable to respond,
6 million newbies all were conned,
The day the service died.

Da Chronic ducked their software guards,
And stole a million credit cards,
to use accounts he’d gotten free.
And so Steve Case went to the FBI,
and he told Boardwatch* a little lie,
That hackers wanted child pornography *
But while Steve Case was looking down,
The hackers pulled his e-mail down,
They put it on the net,
He can’t be trusted, yet!
And while user cynicism climbs,
At sign-on ads and welcome rhymes,
they scan their e-mail for, “Good Times,”
The day the ser-vice died.

Helter-skelter billing needs a melter,
The lawyers filed a class-action shelter,
Eight million in lawyer’s fees.
But it looks like some attorney jibe,
an hour if they resubscribe,
To a service marketed for free.
Well, I know you’re raking in the bucks,
‘Cause I’m reading alt.aol-sucks.
“Until we bless the suit,
The settlement is moot.”
“If AOL treats you like the Borg,
Then visit aolsucks.org,
Before some router pulls the cord,…”
The day the ser-vice died.

Bill Razzouk, the head-to-be,
sold off his home in Tennessee,
And headed for a 4-month end.
Was he sad or just incensed when
Case offered him his thirty cents.
Billing is the devil’s only friend.
But as I read him on the page,
My hands were clenched in fists of rage,
No, “Welcome” born in hell,
could ring that chatroom bell.
And as chat freaks cried into the night,
CompuServe read their last rites.
I saw Earthlink laughing with delight,
The day the ser-vice died.

Met a girl in Lobby 9,
And I asked her if she’d stay online,
But she just frowned and looked away,
And I went back to the Member Lounge,
To see what loyalty I could scrounge.
But Room Host said the members went away,…
And on the net the modems screamed,
At faster bits and data streams.
And not a tear was spoken,
The hourly fees were broken,
And the three men that I hated most:
Ted, and Steve, and Razzouk’s ghost,
They couldn’t dial up the host,
The day the ser-vice died.

‘Twas the Night of Nekkid Frustration

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‘Twas a quiet night,
And all through the house,
No one was home,
Not even the spouse.

I was real horny,
With no one here who would care,
So I dialed AOL,
To see if My friends were there.

I looked at my buddy list,
To see who was online,
While visions of cyber-sex,
Danced through my mind.

When all of a sudden,
Who on my list should appear,
Just the best little cyber-babe,
I’d ever had here.

I IM’d her with “hey darlin”,
Kisses, hugs, and hello,
When I suggested a private room,
She said ‘lets go”.

I made up a name,
We both clicked, and were in,
Anticipating the fun that,
Was about to begin.

We {S kissed and {S hugged,
Then our clothes we did shuck,
It was just then,
I ran out of luck.

Naked and hot,
To the imaginary bed we scooted,
When the next thing I knew,
I had been booted.

I ranted and raved,
And cursed AOL,
For taking my money and,
Putting me through hell.

I signed on again,
And impatiently waited,
Hoping and praying,
Her lust hadn’t abated.

I was finally online and,
To the room I did dash,
To my little cyber-girl,
And heaven at last.

We got past the foreplay,
Were cyber-fuckin and then,
To my utter frustration,
I was booted again.

I cursed AOL,
As I got back online,
For what I swore would be,
The very last time.

We got down to business,
And as the end neared,
It happened again,
That thing that I feared.

Now the first was bad timing,
The second rough,
But the third time booted,
I’d had enough.

A letter I wrote,
Addressed to Steve Case,
Telling him what I would do,
If we ever came face to face.

I wrote in great detail,
Just how he would pay,
For my getting booted,
Three times getting layed.

You may think this funny,
An ass-slappin hoot,
But the next time you cyber,
WATCH OUT FOR THE BOOT

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Tag Archives: poetry

Computer Errors Haiku

Computer Blessing

Abort, Retry, or Ignore?

Training Your Human

A Kitten’s Prayer

Cat Prayer

Catlette’s Soliloquy

Cat Haiku

The Day The Service Died

‘Twas the Night of Nekkid Frustration