Spam poetry

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Lately I’ve been receiving spam email which contains what looks like poetry mixed in with the advertisements for viagra and sure-fire get rich immediately schemes.

The inclusion of the poetry is presumably designed to defeat some sorts of spam filters which I might have installed on my Inbox. The poetry looks as if it has been generated by a computer program and so makes very little sense. I thought I’d share a couple of these poems with you here.

This first poem almost, but not quite, makes some sort of bizarre sense and I just love it. I can almost hear it being sung by Captain Beefheart. Here goes:

Poor violin as a tower rots about the raunchy domain,
Its guest kissed in the light of a gut.

Its wall quoted in the day of an answer.
What lame gangster of person within the elongated towers!
Live plans with no insolent bleach.

And pits quote, beckoning by killing plausibly yet slyly,
Marking marbled plans here.

This second piece makes even less sense and initially conjures up fewer mental images than the first. I find it works best if I imagine I’m proclaiming it in a loud, forthright voice from a high place such as a mountain or a tall tower overlooking a desolate place.

And women go, to the vessel, angrily?
Of flowers, strike the tranquil port, beckoning
Funny the aardvark proved a nasty case, undetectably
New as of aqua devour as skies.

Ingenious the explorer dove a creepy pant, angrily
Homesick the case caught a creepy theater, undeniably
Ruin guests with no gargantuan ace.
Transmutating poor answers here.

When years undo in marbled conflicts, the day undoes,
But where beckons the case, as though hares were knights, painfully
The fork is a Swedish man, for hands display unfortunately,
Under the unicorn, hits a stealthy drug.

Tells pitifully, jokingly, like holes uncovering, painfully
For each resolution, haunt of the chilly park.
Beckoning, throwing out, striking, displaying, dressing,
And elephants make, to the queen, abruptly?

I don’t know what the computer which wrote that one was on but I wish it would tell me where I could get some…

17 February 2004