Once upon a Tuesday coolish, while I pondered, bored and foolish,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —

While I nodded, nearly sleeping, suddenly there came a beeping,

As of some one gently creeping, creeping at my Facebook’s messenger inbox door,

“’Tis some spam,” I muttered, “creeping at my inbox door —

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I recall it was in the bleak of fall;

And each separate dying joke wrought its ghost upon my Facebook page.

Eagerly I wished the next day;—vainly I had sought to replay

From my books, bought on pay day — books from Mad Dog’s comic store —

For the rare and curious shop whom X-Man Angel named a store —

Mad Dog’s Emporium, evermore.

And the silken, and uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some spam entreating entrance at my messenger’s inbox door —

Some deposed prince spam entreating entrance at my messenger’s inbox door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew curious; hesitating, but not furious

“Sir,” thought I, “or Madam, truly your patience I implore;

But the fact is I was chillin’, thinking ‘bout Goku and Krillin,

And so faintly you came fillin’, fillin’ up my inbox door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the Facebook messenger door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep at my computer staring, long I stood there wondering, daring,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered words, “American Civil War? Green Lantern Corps? Haberdashery store?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words I spoke and nothing more,

Merely these and nothing more.

Back into the mancave turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a beeping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my cell phone;

Let me see, then, being all alone, and this mystery explore —

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

“Wait ... I don’t have a cell phone, anymore!”

Open then I clicked my inbox, when, slipping slightly, on my gym socks,

Up there popped a Raven emoji of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made it; not a minute stopped or stayed it;

But, with the aspect of a lord or lady, blinking on my computer screen —

Perched as an icon on my computer screen —

Perched, and sat, and looking mean.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the Angry Birds countenance it wore,

“Though your crest is shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “ain’t sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —

Tell me what your hashtag is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Albacore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear it talk so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no actual human being

Expected to be blessed with seeing bird on a computer screen —

Bird or beast upon the sculptured glass that made one’s computer screen,

With such name as “Albacore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on my busy desktop, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he chattered — not that it even truly mattered —

Till I scarcely more than chattered “Other spams have I got before—

On the morrow it will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Albacore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so curtly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Sent from some unhappy hacker whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his programs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never —Albacore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Up I sat my cushioned seat in front of bird, and screen and more;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to thinking

Fancy unto fancy, pondering what this ominous bird a-yondering —

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Albacore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the image whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat a-rocking, with my head somewhat cocking

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

There that night in Claremore!

Then, methought, the air grew stinkier, fouled, I thought, as I grew thinkier

Ripe by some unseen creature whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — to my inbox, He has sent thee

Respite—respite and flee from thy memories of all I adore;

Delete, oh delete, this strange virus, leave me and leave Claremore.

Quoth the Raven “Albacore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “Thou art annoyant!—prophet maybe, I’m not clairvoyant!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet still respected, on my iPad I detected —

On this computer by virus infected — tell me truly, I implore —

Art though — art thou malware?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Albacore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back from whence you came, to some hacker’s distant shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my boredom unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!

Take your beak from out my heart, and take thy avatar from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Albacore.”

And the Raven, never moving, still is sitting, still is grooving,

On my desktop, my computer, at my house in Claremore

And his eyes have all the seeming of a virus that is dreaming,

And despite my anti-malware’s preening, his shadow still remains upon my floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies eating donuts on the floor

And wonders still ‘bout Albacore!

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