Dark deeds pasted night's gloom into tombs
to-be of computer babies...best sacrifices of all.
Bill filled his goblet once more, in silent rehearsals
of a speech before his board of two.
And, you know who the other was,
now don't you....
pleased to meet you, can you guess my name....
'But if I invent that, they will come....once.
Where's the profit, where's the billions? '
'Bedeviled meat in deceit, genius,
and blooded money of Internet addicts....
ah, so tragic....should be a law.'
'What's your part in this slaughter, ole pal? '
'Purely angelic....I recall....malware, viruses,
Trojans. Not the drugstore kind.'
'And I just happen to have the programs
for sale, of course, that will remedy.'
'And, the first thing we do is kill all the lawyers.
They suck as good as you, ole Bill.'
The feasting began. Then screaming, curses.
Blue screens.
The computer babies went to Best Buy.
Ole Bill went to Fortune 500.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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