Matador
Well-known member
Once upon a workday dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious thread of boring yore—
While I cleaned, nearly wiping, suddenly there came a griping,
As of some one gently typing, typing on their keyboard yore.
“’Tis some poster,” I muttered, “typing, on their keyboard yore—
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September;
And each separate dying thread wrought its angst upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the ending;—vainly I had sought to fending
From my reading filled with sorrow—sorrow for the lost GOP —
For the rare posters, defending the GOP —
Nameless here yet filled with glee.
And the silken, sad, uncertain posting of each other person
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the rage of my heart, I typed again
“’Tis some idiot, posting again in the thread therefore,
Some moron, posting again and again in the thread therefore;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said typed, “or Madam, truly your ignorance I can't ignore;
But the fact is I was responding, and with good faith, you were absconding,
And so faintly you came typing, typing in the thread of yore,
That I scarce was sure I read you”—here I opened wide the thread;—
But found darkness there and only dread.
In that thread, as I was reading, long I sat there, thinking, pleading,
Doubting, that never had people been this obtuse before;
The replies, they came unending, the indefensible, they were defending,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Biden?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Biden!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into my seat returning, all my anger within me burning,
Soon again I heard a typing although somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” I wrote, “surely that is the thread ending;
Let me read, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis a mispost and nothing more!”
Open here I launched my browsers, when, I then put on my trousers,
A reply from another Poster of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a turn of phrase obeyed he;
But, without the tact of lord or lady, perched on the thread of yore—
Perched in the Brewery in the thread of yore—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
When this poster, beguiling, my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the concern that it wore,
"Though thy head be shaven, thou," I wrote, "thou sure art craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Poster, wandering the Brewery forever more-
Tell me why you return unending to the thread of endless yore!"
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
But the Poster, sitting lonely on the thread, wrote only
That one phrase, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he wrote—not a answer did he gloat —
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other members have left before—
On the morrow he will leave us, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then he said “Biden, nevermore!”
Startled at the thread renewed, by a reply so aptly crude,
“Doubtless,” wrote I, “what it types is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy place, his only recourse to save face,
How the Democrats were evil, and Biden he did deplore,
And Hunters laptop, from a distant land offshore,
Ending with, ‘Biden, nevermore!'
Then, methought, he did grow denser, each response, he didn't censer,
Replies he rained uneding on the thread of yore.
“Wretch,” I wrote, “please do cease; leave us in this thread at peace!
Respite—respite and repent from thy posts in this thread of yore;
Delete, oh delete these posts and forget this thread of yore!”
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
“Be this post our sign of parting, fiend!” I wrote, upstarting—
“Get thee back to the Lab and leave the Brewery forever by the shore!
Leave no post remaining, of endlessly writing, then explaining!
Leave our misery unbroken! Leave us to COVID, heartbroken!" we did emplore,
Take thy keyboard and mouse, and leave this thread of yore!"
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
And the Poster, still is blaming, on the thread, he still is claiming,
That the Democrats are to blame, and chased from office in only four.
Endless posting, ranting, then repeating,
With evidence that’s always fleeting.
And my soul from out that shadow back to lurking on the thread of yore.
Shall be forever reading, “Biden, nevermore!"
Over many a quaint and curious thread of boring yore—
While I cleaned, nearly wiping, suddenly there came a griping,
As of some one gently typing, typing on their keyboard yore.
“’Tis some poster,” I muttered, “typing, on their keyboard yore—
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September;
And each separate dying thread wrought its angst upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the ending;—vainly I had sought to fending
From my reading filled with sorrow—sorrow for the lost GOP —
For the rare posters, defending the GOP —
Nameless here yet filled with glee.
And the silken, sad, uncertain posting of each other person
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the rage of my heart, I typed again
“’Tis some idiot, posting again in the thread therefore,
Some moron, posting again and again in the thread therefore;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said typed, “or Madam, truly your ignorance I can't ignore;
But the fact is I was responding, and with good faith, you were absconding,
And so faintly you came typing, typing in the thread of yore,
That I scarce was sure I read you”—here I opened wide the thread;—
But found darkness there and only dread.
In that thread, as I was reading, long I sat there, thinking, pleading,
Doubting, that never had people been this obtuse before;
The replies, they came unending, the indefensible, they were defending,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Biden?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Biden!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into my seat returning, all my anger within me burning,
Soon again I heard a typing although somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” I wrote, “surely that is the thread ending;
Let me read, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis a mispost and nothing more!”
Open here I launched my browsers, when, I then put on my trousers,
A reply from another Poster of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a turn of phrase obeyed he;
But, without the tact of lord or lady, perched on the thread of yore—
Perched in the Brewery in the thread of yore—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
When this poster, beguiling, my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the concern that it wore,
"Though thy head be shaven, thou," I wrote, "thou sure art craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Poster, wandering the Brewery forever more-
Tell me why you return unending to the thread of endless yore!"
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
But the Poster, sitting lonely on the thread, wrote only
That one phrase, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he wrote—not a answer did he gloat —
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other members have left before—
On the morrow he will leave us, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then he said “Biden, nevermore!”
Startled at the thread renewed, by a reply so aptly crude,
“Doubtless,” wrote I, “what it types is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy place, his only recourse to save face,
How the Democrats were evil, and Biden he did deplore,
And Hunters laptop, from a distant land offshore,
Ending with, ‘Biden, nevermore!'
Then, methought, he did grow denser, each response, he didn't censer,
Replies he rained uneding on the thread of yore.
“Wretch,” I wrote, “please do cease; leave us in this thread at peace!
Respite—respite and repent from thy posts in this thread of yore;
Delete, oh delete these posts and forget this thread of yore!”
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
“Be this post our sign of parting, fiend!” I wrote, upstarting—
“Get thee back to the Lab and leave the Brewery forever by the shore!
Leave no post remaining, of endlessly writing, then explaining!
Leave our misery unbroken! Leave us to COVID, heartbroken!" we did emplore,
Take thy keyboard and mouse, and leave this thread of yore!"
Quoth the Poster “Biden, nevermore!”
And the Poster, still is blaming, on the thread, he still is claiming,
That the Democrats are to blame, and chased from office in only four.
Endless posting, ranting, then repeating,
With evidence that’s always fleeting.
And my soul from out that shadow back to lurking on the thread of yore.
Shall be forever reading, “Biden, nevermore!"
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