Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Spam Poetry

Taking a nod from the guys at, i decided to write my own spam poetry

I call it...


This was the room where she had died.
300,000 satisfied men
Smiling to you, dear;
Arlene turned to me,
raising her brows like a pair of question marks.
Would you try anything once?

Its subtle, whatever it is.


Everything becomes peaceful after this stuff

I never joined up to ride on tigers

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