Under the obligatory listing of Viagra and Cialis was this gem:
Help fun far been quite. Season, quick catch, age store. Word
use large sea against dictionary fact. Four, with cross you
allow tell. Material, main fresh boy, garden teach. Yard does
sound talk. There many until, broke gas. Show why sound. Hand
near feed, king. High thousand job you mount, sun much. Test,
left ocean stood. His before take far who love made.
::sniff:: Yes, “High thousand job you mount, sun much”
That was beautiful man. Allow me to share one of mine, I call it…:
hillbilly and byzantium may
and skippy the may
kochab may on tabloid be or earthen it,
ribose! be shuttlecock and viscount!
Update on site
butene and cravat a intolerable
and not ran on it’s eggplant some not jablonsky
try it’s penal in it
roseland ora cyclotomic in.
Hey! I submitted, with artistic line breaks added by me, a Spam Gibberish block 'o text to Poetry.com. You know, that site. Those books.
They are STILL trying to get me to buy the book that contains my immortal work. And to come to the convention to receive my “honor” or “award” or some such nonsense.
As I recall, it went something like this:
I am forgetting the cow
What if Osama Bin Laden saw a sugary toenail
that was poking a lighter?
ffs! fritty trashcan!
Credit tribulations we empathize
Check it out right here so they say
Much like a special notecard
the windshield is extremely elegant
Pin the bear on the donkey
Where am the silky q-tip?
on the killer bee? you wild tool
We reduce interest charges
jazz. jazz.
mcatis looks like a painful woman
well slap mah fro!
the trailer are recording the feathery man!
I love you from the bottom of my rank rock
Neitzche is so scratchy that
I am forgetting the cow
Oh, yeah.
I am forgetting the cow.
SON OF SPAM POEM
A soft bra stinks.
His sloppy computer spit.
Her daughter’s hairy kitchen
got an idea
and still any given silver clock smells.
Her daughter’s bluish
odd shaped t-shirt looks around
while his small
green
white
purple
computer snores.
Her round-shaped golden
expensive fancy
mobile phone looks around.
Master glass of ham-phobia
Said unto the festering dig,
Untill his speak of white arise the hearth
Had sound of sad pencil
Without we made hurricane
For exxon the time was gone to take in
Public card stacks from imunized chimp hands.
Had Nelville’s lords parked cheatah hats?
Forthwith off of the hawkeyed squash
Mutillate the fork hammer
Tuning our veritas
Mutilate the fork hammer.
