The server [in progress]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered meek and dreary,
Over many a quaint and spurious torrent of forbidden lore,
As they folded, softly fapping, suddenly there came a slapping,
As of websites neatly snapping, slapping at my firewall door.
`'Tis some hacker,' I muttered, `probing at my firewall door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I did send her it was in that bleak Nintendo,
And each separate flying bookmark wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my gifs surpass this sorrow - sorrow for the lack of more -
For the rare and buxom maiden whom the JPGS gave me more -
Untitled.bmp for evermore.

And the tabs they came unbidden, nought flesh of that most sightly maiden
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the ticking of the glass, I stood repeating
`'Tis some bugger on the fibre taking bandwidth from my door -
Some late pervert leacher taking bandwidth from my door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my patience lingered; hesitating them the finger,
`n00b!,' IM'd I, `or n00bette, your intrusion I do abhor;
But the fact is I was fapping, and so gently you came hacking,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my O/S back door,
That IP hence, I did deny you' - yet here lies my O/S back door; -
Just a ping, and nothing more.

Deep into that website peering, long I stood there sundering, fury
Passing registry keys, no 1337 had hacked before
But the website was not broken, and the server gave no token,
And the only words were spoken trace route returned the words, 'No more!'
This I whispered, echo'd prompt the words, 'No more!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back the timer neatly turning, all my lust within me yearning,
Soon again I heard the slapping, port scans of my firewall door.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something on my windows desk top;
Let me find this website's weakness, probe it back I did explore -
Let my finger steal a moment's capture, explore; -
'Tis the ICE and nothing more!'

Open here, I flung the slider, with hope of seeing that inside her,
As the ones had flung within there in the days of yore.
Not the least hesitant he; not a bit stopped or stayed thee;
But, not bone nor making to the lady, lovely in my store -
Perched a resident, Apache serving from the store -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this machine returning, smiling, just a message so beguiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the template that it wore,
`Though thy page be white and shaven,' I said, `art sure of no terror.
Ghastly grim there would not, could not be an error -
Tell me thy lordly prognosis thee! And bring solution to my shore'
Quoth the server, `404.'

Much I stared my face did sunder, wonder at the ancient lore
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing, that this here human being
Could not be blessed with fantastic pleasure -
Girl or beast with sculptured bust, ne'er enter through my O/S door,
With such name as `404.'

But the server, left me lonely, flacid with no bust only
That one number, from it's generic data store
Refreshing further, not an offer - not an image would it proffer -
Till I scarcely fell and stuttered `Other friends have jerked before -
On the morrow you will beseech thee, as my lust has flown before.'
Then the screen read, `404.'

Sartled at the silence broken by reply so stoutly spoken,
'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it mutters is but it's only page in store,
Caught from some teenage hacker whom emo-ful 'disaster'
Boring fast and boring faster till his logs unburden bore -
Till the dirges of his urges hopes it unburdens bore
Of "404."'

But the server still beguiling all my sad lust into writhing,
Straight I revealed a coding feat spun unto server and it's door
Then, upon the lines writing, I compiled it unto linking
Fancy unto fancy, blinking at this gargantuous server of yore -
What this dim, unsightly, ghastly, gaunt, and gargantuous server of yore
Meant in returning `404.'

Thus I sat enraged and messing, but no keyboard key depressing
To the owl whose orly eyes ne'er burned upon a busoms core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head increased declining
On the firewall rule's defining that the port-scan gloated o'er,
But whose rule's defining with the port-scan gloating o'er,
And I press, ah, 404!

Then, methought, the bits grew denser, though blanked by an unseen censor
Squared by Seraphim whose paint brush wrinkled 'pon the dusty floor.
'Wench,' I cried, 'thy God hath rent thee - from my demons they had sent thee
I spite - I spite and repent from thy nudities of Lenore!
Cometh, oh come this kind repenteth, and beget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the server, `404.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'speak no evil! - prophet still, if server or devil! -
Whether temptress sent, or whether succubi threw thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all unloosened, beneath this land enchanted -
Windows home my horror daunted - tell me truly, I impore -
Is there - is there balm on Trixie? - show me - show me, I implore!'
Quoth the server, `404.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'speak no evil! - prophet still, if server or devil! -
By what heave that extends beyond us - by that Goddess I doth adore -
Lend this soul with nought laden if, within the distant DIMM,
Then shall clasp like saintly maiden whom the pornos named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and boxom maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the server, `404.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!