In his inexplicably whimsical current disposition, Gromo decides to write another pome. He tries his hand at the romantic variety, even though he has only one romantic bone in his body.
Yes, it's in his ear.
Fortunately, he decides against it after all. Indeed, what does Gromo understand of the beauty of poetry? Or maybe it's just that Gromo sees poetry for what it is: succinct truths. Distilled observations. Truths can be beautiful, or ugly, depending on the perspective. Or simply even factual.
I think Gromo was born with a broken romance bone.
And now for something completely different: an original poem
Hyder Hyder burning bright
in the forest of the night
what immoral hand or eye
could frame thy fearsome territory?
Beautiful, isn't it?
<completely off topic>
Did anybody know that s/390 used to be shipped with only 256MB of hard disk space? I had a 486SX that had nearly as much. And yet the S/390 has such a powerful processor that it can handle 1,000,000 transactions per second. 10% processor utilization to accommodate 1500 concurrent VSE/ESA sessions. Man, Intel should be taken out and shot for false positioning. POWER is the way to go, baby.
</completely off topic>
It's sad. An unwritten poem. A poem about possibly unrequited love. One that describes a hidden longing, so deep down that it merely hinted at its presence, never surfacing. One that never dared to show for years for fear of screams of betrayal, ridicule and disbelief. In cliché: One that was so right, and yet, in so many ways, so wrong. An emotion that could wipe the clouds from the sky in a single stroke, bring forth bounds of light and life to one so forlorn. Often forgotten, often remembered with hopeless desperation.
The new site description was ripped off a rather amusing cubicle adornment. Featuring right in the middle is the face of an annoyed looking simian. Gromo can't quite tell if it's a gorilla, baboon or some other large ape. He was never really that good with monkeys.
