A poem and a toast to the safe return of Doombot

A poem and a toast to the safe return of Doombot
of whom the board would be worse off without.

It was a night dark and dreary
the rain was falling, dawn was nearing
the parties were ending, the unwashed winding down
for night was almost over, it was time to go home

But for one senior not all was well
the lovely Doombot had been stolen
by none other then the evil purple one
El Diablo Dinosauro Malo

She had been beaten and blackened then demands were sent
they arrived at the unwashed door and caused quite a fit
the swat team was called, while others confered
just what would happen to the senior in the monsters grip

But Doombot escaped, details are still sketchy
did she do it herself, or have help from the unwashed hirearchy?
All that matters to us is she is now back in proper hands
and now that she is safe, the revenge can commence

From all over the world, favorite weapons were grabed
When the purple one was tracked down, we were oh so very glad
for we had all this ammo that was just going to waste
and before to long, all we had left was purple paste.

Oh user, do not bug me so


Oh silly user, why do you bug me so?
You call up all mad, complaining that your connect is slow.

"What is your problem" you scream in my ear,
All the while you refuse to listen, to hear.

"I've been on hold for the last five minutes at least!"

I step in the car
the engine starts
life begins now
on the highway of life

and so I drive.

The road goes on
I start off slow
slowly moving faster
on this small one lane road

and I drive on.

The road grows wider
some traffic is there
passing me by
they are parts of my life

and I drive on.

The road is larger
moving faster
the seanery is smearing
blending together

and I drive on.

Life is fast
I cant see whats around me
it goes by so quickly
I dont understand

and I step on the brakes.

Tires squealing
smoke is rising
car is skiding
sliding to a stop

and life stands still.

I am stoped on the road
the road is the path
the path is my life
I have stoped my life

and I look around.

I see the birds
I see the trees
I see the flowers
I see the curb

and I get out.

I smell the air
it is fresh and sweet
I am not in the car
I am outside

and I take a break from life.

A car passes by
in it is a friend
it reminds me of life
this is just a stop

and I go back to my car.

I step in the car
the engine starts
my life is now moving
on this road that is life

and so I drive.

To be the first tech
is it a honor I want?
Questions must be answered
even if the callers are Unwashed.

But to be a bastard
and still answer the lines.
Some callers might live
but many would die.

I could do it
and keep my instincts in check.
I would have to stop telling users
to use forks for voltage tests.

Now all that must be done
is to learn how to ryme
maybe write a few poems
will people enjoy mine?

As for being a bastard
your right, I am a techy
Callers should still watch it
less they become people smeet.

Skeleton Jack, proud to call
himself a Tech Poetry Bastard of the Unwashed :)

Oh MSN, why do you wound me so?

By Skeleton Jack.

Oh MSN, why do you wound me so
You refuse the uninstall,
or even give an option to do so
A use tried to install you,
while double clicking like mad
Now I have to deal with you,
while windows settings you have grabbed
You refuse to let go,
or even acknowlege you exist
Now I'm stuck trying to setup windoze,
while it is still in your grip
No matter what I do,
nothing seems to change
I have the sudden urge,
to go and jump on B'hill G'hates head

Nothing has worked,
for a moment I am at a lost but suddenly a plan form in my head
It looks like Windoze was miss-installed,
it's somebody else's problem instead


I take a look around
at the technical world today.
I wonder where we went wrong
where our brilliance went astray.

The people are using
all the technology at hand.
But if we are so modern
why do so many not undestand.

I spend 5 minutes waiting
at the cash machine.
The person in front of me
just cant seem to understand.

The customer's are on the phone
complaining that the net doesn't work.
I calmly have to tell them
they has to hit OK first.

Some people dont believe
that the password does indeed work.
For some reason they get mad
when told their caps lock was hit.

We learned to drive cards
even though at first they were ignored.
Sill that happen to computers
can our hopes be so bold?

Then I take a look around
at the way we drive today,
and suddenly I'm happy
most of us dont use computers today.

I dont know if it's art, but I like it.