Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Data breaches, (albeit low level) galore

by matthew-scott-harris2p

A couple of reputable programs such as I have been pwned and MacKeeper brought to my attention a worse fate than meeting the grim reaper. Yes folks, yours truly would sooner face a premature (scythe leant) demise than experience the utterly deplorable basket case - worse than jumping out of a high-rise been there done that regarding the above two outright bald faced lies, which fabrication might earn me one or more sympathy (than for the devil, who wears Prada) responses that unfairly patronize me and force me to witness another tequila sunrise though I do admit to being witty and wise. All joking aside invariably someone somewhere (over the rainbow) will chide supertramp with words as his cheap trick falls flat where none the poorer (or sixpence none the richer) will be edified and let their conscience guide he/she, him/her, his/hers - you get the idea for me trying my darnedest to be gender affirming though inside an over sensitive reader keen-eyed will not take ribbing so lightly, and hence consider comeuppance (reed getting digitally hacked to death) of mine fate being well deserved, yet nevertheless, honest to dog I feel mortified that some computer wise acre will get his/her jollies forcing computer data and documents (crafted mind you courtesy the sweat of my brow) inaccessible, when maybe years, decades, centuries some future archeologist will find yours truly ossified (and perhaps inadvertently revered as a deva), whether life lived as a scoundrel and scofflaw might undermine me being qualified and judged by the ultimate umpire viz god and/or goddess of English language will give poor old man Harris the benefit of the doubt (fire me if necessary) analogously and vicariously like when a batter hits a homer letting four ball players slide into home plate or more so experiencing that rush (Tom Sawyer) felt undenied when he kissed Becky Thatcher wide across her mouth. All thee above meandering pablum that emanated, germinated and got jump/kick started when some cracker, cybercriminal, black hat, script kiddie, intruder, phisher, and cyberpunk for malicious actors didst buzzfeed (and gushed out like Old Faithful) from this creaky and cheeky imponderable fount of wit and wisdom might possibly qualify him for twit of the year, decade, century, et cetera award courtesy Monty Python and the Flying Circus didst permit myself as the exception to the rule that an all American with high brows he doth knit after one or more unscrupulous malcontent cyber sleuth(s) who emit braggadocio finally scored the equivalent of a touchdown or any other way sports mavens score at the expense "never give a sucker an even break" and if necessary take a byte as some l' hors-d'œuvre, which doth the palate delight meanwhile my imagination didst take flight way beyond atmospheric height into the realm of the outer limits of the twilight zone, where dark shadows la de da found uber poet scrambling like Charlie Brown who lost his kite to a kite eating tree (a fictional, malevolent tree from the Peanuts comic strip, famous for perpetually devouring Charlie Brown's kites, symbolizing persistent, indifferent obstacles or fate that thwart simple aspirations) representing an ordinary character from humanity who suffers martyr of fact one after another regarding undeserved plight whose data breaches find me suspended and uptight as if hoisted by my own petard, which means to be harmed or defeated by your own scheme, trap, or device meant to harm someone else, essentially becoming a victim of your own plot, when years gone by cavalierly cruising and beating figurative wings thru cyberspace at the speed of sound.
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
matthew-scott-harris2p
66 / M / schwenksville, penna
For You?
Written by
matthew-scott-harris2p
66 / M / schwenksville, penna
Published
Jan 6
Time
6m
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell matthew-scott-harris2p how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write