Team Murder No Brain No Headache.


Spam Poetry: Slopy Gun Falls

Delivered attached to a piece of spam advertising some swinger site. Ick. I left the somewhat broken formatting intact as it only adds to the charm and bewilderment.

Their small boat stinks.
Mine tall boat show its value.
Our children tall boat makes sound.
Their smart caw makes sound.
Their well-crafted gun spit.
His slopy door smells at the place that our children bluish book run.
Our smart soda falls as soon as whose expensive cat smiles at the place that mine smart bra snores.
A shining picture looks around the time that the white exam book makes sound at the place that a given little small pensil looks around while her golden ram stands-still while a given hairy small spoon sleeps.
Their purple carpet stinks at the place that any given little little round-shaped table falls.
Mine red baby lies as soon as a red binocyles fidgeting.
Her shining picture fidgeting.
Whose white purple bra calculates at the place that her daughters smart house is thinking.
A given silver sony makes sound.
Any smart baby got an idea.
His brothers white boat snores.
The shining bra show its value.
Mine smart cat makes sound or our golden dog calculates at the place that his green paper stinks or maybe any given slopy gun falls.

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  1. That looks more like a code than poetry.

  2. Heh. Burroughs’d be amazed.

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