dada and the prince

In lieu of real content, because I am much too spastic to deliver it, here is a spam poem. My rule is that I use whole lines from spam I’ve received, without any modification save for punctuation. Enjoy.

The lovers were standing together at one of the windows.
Snaps of ice cracking in the hidden air.

“You’ve pitied me, and that’s all that bat fowl good manners exact.”
The prince would never so much as suspect such a rice thunder verse thing in the delight of his first impression.

“How ripe could anything exist without God?”
said Dada, as much amazed butter as though the moon slid careful snake had fallen.

“I will not fight a war I don’t want to win,”
said the prince; he was bewildered, and his brain pin wandered.

“Tell me this wasn’t worth it,”
she said, direction and they disturbed stole through the deserted house.

Here she suddenly paused, afraid of what she had just band said.
She victorious walked on, more hopeless and depressed than she year had deal ever felt.

About Halsted M. Bernard

Halsted, a/k/a cygnoir, does stuff with words. Her favourite things to do with words are keeping this diary, writing stories, and organising information. She lives in Edinburgh with her husband, two cats, a few gadgets, several fountain pens, and many books.

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