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Today's poems [3.9.18]

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There was a young man of Soho 
            Whose tastes were exceedingly low. 
                He said to his mother, 
                "Let us suck one another, 
            And swallow the seminal flow." 


Computer Eleanor Rigby
Eleanor Rigby
Sits at the keyboard
And waits for a line on the screen
Lives in a dream
Waits for a signal
Finding some code
That will make the machine do some more.
What is it for?

All the lonely users, where do they all come from?
All the lonely users, why does it take so long?

Guru MacKenzie
Typing the lines of a program that no one will run;
Isn't it fun?
Look at him working,
Munching some chips as he waits for the code to compile;
It takes a while...

All the lonely users, where do they all come from?
All the lonely users, why does it take so long?

Eleanor Rigby
Crashes the system and loses 6 hours of work;
Feels like a jerk.
Guru MacKenzie
Wiping the crumbs off the keys as he types in the code;
Nothing will load.

All the lonely users, where do they all come from?
All the lonely users, why does it take so long?


If Dr. Seuss Wrote for Star Trek: The Next Generation

     Picard:    Sigma Indri, that's the star,
                So Data, please, how far?  How far?

     Data:      Our ship can get there very fast
                But still the trip will last and last
                We'll have two days til we arrive
                But can the Indrans there survive?

     Picard:    LaForge, please give us factor nine.

     LaForge:   But sir, the engines are offline!

     Picard:    Offline:  But why?  I want to go!
                Please make it so, please make it so!

     Riker:     But sir, if Geordi says we can't,
                We can't, we mustn't, and we shan't,
                The danger here is far too great!

     Picard:    But surely we must not be late!

     Troi:      I'm sensing anger and great ire.

     Computer:  Alert!  Alert!  The ship's on fire!

     Picard:    The ship's on fire?  How could this be?
                Who lit the fire?

     Riker:     Not me.

     Worf:      Not me.

     Picard:    Computer, how long til we die?

     Computer:  Eight minutes left to say goodbye.

     Data:      May I suggest a course to take?
                We could, I think, quite safely make
                Extinguishers from tractor beams
                And stop the fire, or so it seems...

     Geordi:    Hurray!  Hurray!  You've saved the day!
                Again I say, Hurray!  Hurray!

     Picard:    Mr. Data, thank you much.
                You've saved our lives, our ship, and such.

     Troi:      We still must save the Indran planet --

     Data:      Which (by the way) is made of granite...

     Picard:    Enough, you android.  Please desist.
                We understand -- we get your gist.
                But can we get our ship to go?
                Please, make it so, PLEASE make it so.

     Geordi:    There's sabotage among the wires
                And that's what started all the fires.

     Troi:      We have a saboteur?  Oh, no!
                We need to go!  We need to go!

     Riker:     We must seek out the traitor spy
                And lock him up and ask him, "Why?"

     Worf:      Ask him why?  How sentimental.
                I say give him problems dental.

     Troi:      Are any Romulan ships around?
                Have scanners said that they've been found?
                Or is it Borg or some new threat
                We haven't even heard of yet?
                I sense no malice in this crew.
                Now what are we supposed to do?

     Crusher:   Captain, please, the Indrans need us.
                They cry out, "Help us, clothe us, feed us!"
                I can't just sit and let them die!
                A doctor MUST attempt -- MUST try!

     Picard:    Doctor, please, we'll get there soon.

     Crusher:   They may be dead by Tuesday noon.


     Worf:      The saboteur is in the brig.
                He's very strong and very big.
                I had my fazer set on stun.
                A zzzip!  A zzzap!  Another one!
                He would not budge, he would not fall,
                He would not stun, no, not at all!
                He changed into a stranger form
                All soft and purple, round and warm.

     Picard:    Did you see this, Mr. Worf?
                Did you see this creature morph?

     Worf:      I did and then I beat him fairly.
                Hit him on the jaw -- quite squarely.

     Riker:     My commendations, Klingon friend!
                 Our troubles now are at an end!

     Crusher:   Now let's get our ship to fly
                And orbit yonder Indran sky!

     Picard:    LaForge, please tell me we can go...?

     Geordi:    Yes, sir, we can.

     Picard:    Then make it so!

                       ***** THE END *****


The young things who frequent picture palaces 
               Have no use for this psycho-analysis. 
                    And although Doctor Freud 
                    Is distinctly annoyed 
               They cling to their old-fashioned fallacies. 


               There once was a boring young Reverend 
               Who preached till it seemed he would never end. 
                    His hearers, en masse, 
                    Got a pain in the ass, 
               And prayed--- for relief of their nether end. 


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