|Are screening graphs so vast? They burn and pop!|
I look to Bill for rules or I’ll lose face
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
This form of verse is hard to write with grace.
By testing depths of code until I bow
For what you type in my website as shown
You do intend to keep me busy now
A phrase, a word, a blurb, it’s clear I’m thrown.
But testing, prodding, oh I do feel your blow
Oh no, not that! A term so strange for me!
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
So here I have a canned default for thee.
I sort them quickly, making poets wince,
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance!