Underground

I had a question about a software,

It apparently malfunctioned.

The beeps and clicks didn’t fire.

The hardware was all haywire.

Banging hard at the keys,

Didn’t help the screen get bright.

Things ejected and whirred,

The camera I didn’t know, 

Flashed brilliant and blurred.

Over thirty-six buttons,

And none of them said “Fix”.

Blue flashes and red lights,

Blinked and turned green;

Methinks aliens had landed on screen.

Unwired and unplugged,

I let the machine drain.

Juiced it up again,

Only to see a broken dud.

What was this contraption?

What was this trepidation?

I read Samuel Johnson,

He knew nothing of this brazen oxen.

If only software and hardware,

Can be as simple as Tupperware.

With an airtight press and click,

It preserves a severed head like a brick!

 

Combustion

My minacious being,

It set fire to the living.

The piercing blue eyes,

Set on the picturesque ice.

Black abyss on no man’s land,

Swallowed the fair maiden’s hand.

Dampness in the wizened heat,

 More delicious than burning meat.

Righteous and twisted convoluted,

To make a loud sound very muted.

**Apologies to the fallen.