Once a format I loved to read,
but now a monster that I must feed
More than a bee,
thou art the yogi’s knees:
bendy, malleable, and free –
all things I thought a file should be
Yet raindrops in a thunderstorm
could said to be more uniform
The fonts! They stick and move and jump!
First a diaspora, then a clump
This tiny photo has grown so large,
the pizza pictured now fills a barge
The freedom to publish, write, create!
…yet now I’m deeply filled with hate
Plenty are olden formats superior,
with ink and paper, no motives ulterior
Or perhaps a chisel to carve a mineral
would save me from an early funeral
Ancestors bless me and teach me cave painting,
with ochre and fats and fumes that cause fainting
At least my delirium would be artistically won
‘stead of from head-desking late nights up through dawn
Oh, epub, I loved thee with all of my liver
but now your syllables evoke a shiver
I’m certain we shall meet again
But next time be warned: I will bring friends
The battle to conquer will be o’er much faster
Dear epub, I shall be thy master!
Until that blessed day doth arrive,
with Sun Tzu I shall connive
We’ll form a plan and overwhelm you utterly
and kick you to the stinking gutter …ly.
This poem ends with a moan and a whimper;
I return to works that are far and away simpler
Good day to you, epub, and mind yourself duly
Next time ’tis thee who shall be treated most cruelly!