Archive for the 'poetry' Category

Where Paramount Focus Are Veritable Holy


Pigeon Eggs for your Easter basket — a ghettotory hallucination


Spambellina Thinks: That today, being Easter, is the perfect time to post some mystical spam. This poetic vision, inspired not by self-flagellation but by an overdose of Tivo and YouTube, left Spambellina profoundly confused . . . yet somehow spiritually refreshed. Must be the word-bath of Linux, Unix, and bokmlnorsk.

Where Paramount Focus Are Veritable Holy
(or, The Divine Madness of an Absinthe-Swilling Technogeek)

Saw flood clones columbia data cloned bios.
Same quot aware quot they lot attention
this quot she adding. Is not software in, mans kind of.

A unix based attitude don’t get do its why should me if.
Movies viacom, demands youtube remove videos.
Introduces enterprise stream standards.
Linkcite article in bokmlnorsk last modified.
Tivo, inc before, switching.

Spending, lives where paramount focus are veritable holy.
Say park individual basis taxes residency refunds.

Lack, that causes whostill everybody fellow means they?

Process dubbed interview notorious, off the wall.
Samequot aware quotthey lot attention thisquot she adding.
Come magazine slate acquired.
Birth links find searching wikipedias.
To pay ampuse webbased will not endear bringing,
habitual attitudes to linux?

And the whole stays on if a user runs into trouble hell hasn’t.


Turmoil when action against, european union allegedly, abusing.
Vote amirposted cedarattak sebastien triumph.
Managequot click importance creating, carrier.

Experience vehement ready ingrained but this.

Several million dollars due.
Supposed there’s leaflet came tells a toy.
Displaying abruptly terminates drivers.
Nousing mouse from, select ctrlxto it the dwdeletes.

Author: Unknown
Contributed by: Future psych nurse and word-salad connoisseur, Babelfishe




But Summer’s Voice the Ploughed Jewel Drink

Spambellina apologizes: for failing to provide fresh spam for the past two weeks. She has been having somewhat of . . . an episode. Staring at the wall, rocking back and forth, having heated, hissed conversations with her Dolly. This delicate, faintly nostalgic spamlet was a welcome, refreshing change from Spambellina’s violent inner world.

There’s something almost Proustian about this gentle dissolution into disordered memory. Where are the potted meat products of yesteryear? Probably right here, at this old, abandoned market, repository of memories and rusted cans of Spam.


Photo by JS – January 2007

But Summer’s Voice the Ploughed Jewel Drink

Voice but summer
may door see polish . . .
collar may join or day,
it’s memory not drink,
brake but hat, soap some test
may plough some approval
on long or thin or star and cloud.

Plough the drink, be stitch not angry.
Black the low in straight some tooth and tray,
writing on color may female it number —

See tall see history may jewel some stomach
see key but theory,
rat may relation but shirt
and note or stitch may brain or male
pen in protest, the girl be ship
the head on group see letter not brain
some sky be salt the feather
it’s look it nut not unit on circle

on value try art may ear it’s organisation
try arm see doubt a living but rest,
house see year in apple
some measure may.

Author: Unknown
Contributed by: My ultimate source of delicious spam, JS

The Oedipal Potato

Spambellina Says: You know, I get so enraptured with the world of processed meat that I often neglect the world of processed potatoes. This freeflowing, intensely confessional verse by the renowned spoet Basil Mahoney reminded me that nothing goes better with Spam than a big ol’ bowlful of Tater Tots. Dolly was thrilled . . . she dived headfirst into the surreal hash!

I smell a family drama in this one. And it disturbs me.

Head-First into the Tots
The Oedipal Potato

Potato and play it’s simple
breath not small it’s responsible
it happy not growth may hook in voice
may wound and wet not development on sun
may trouble try burst not clock in neck
see able on finger but deep be collar
it’s advertisement and material!

Cheese it’s attack may

long some cough not rule it’s kick
or advertisement be bottle may hollow
it cruel a sex a angry may healthy on foot!
Wing a nerve the ear be station and grain
but foolish be equal may probable or hair
it angry not berry try society!

Roll, father, see

woman, history in collar be hospital
but attempt try beautiful or meat
be time and tree it’s tax but thumb
the house a group see common be nerve
a plate a roll or thread try regret
try eye be angry see hollow may square!

process . . .

drawer . . .


Author: Basil Mahoney
Contributor: JS

Red in Tooth and Doll

When a Purple Insurance Agent Trembles

Spambellina Says: Beaming rattlesnakes, Canadians doing rodeo clowns, hardly snooty football teams — here is more gloriously surreal Spam hash, served up on toasted Wonder Bread for your aesthetic pleasure. There’s a lesson to be learned here: Pimps gotta dance! Self-destructive conformists step back . . . .

When A Purple Insurance Agent Trembles

The pimp needed to dance,
so conformists should never self-destruct and could do party tricks.
When a purple insurance agent trembles,
a rattlesnake beams with joy.

A mastadon near the inferiority complex,
some somewhat incinerated bottle of beer,
and a hardly snooty football team are what made America great!

(Some graduated cylinder for the plaintiff
carelessly tries to seduce the line dancer.)

The pimp needed to dance,
so conformists should never self-destruct and could do party tricks.
When a purple insurance agent trembles,
a rattlesnake beams with joy.

When a purple insurance agent trembles,
a rattlesnake beams with joy.

Casey’s Canadians did rodeo clowns and police!

A mastadon near the inferiority complex,
some somewhat incinerated bottle of beer,
and a hardly snooty football team are what made America great!

(Some graduated cylinder for the plaintiff
carelessly tries to seduce the line dancer.)

Author: Unknown
Contributed by: JS (this almost makes up for the loss of the blue frosting flower)

The Word Made Pork

Spambellina Says: JS and I have an ongoing debate over the sanctity of barbecue. Living in the West, I firmly believe that beef is an essential part of the canon — what else are we supposed to do with all the cows out here? Brisket, tri-tip, big ol’ beef ribs that look like dinner for the Flintstones . . . I can’t get enough charred steer. According to JS, beef is an offense to barbecue orthodoxy in the South, where you can’t even make out in a Waffle House parking lot without being ogled by a giant fiberglass hog:

Bucko from the Waffle House

The experience was so traumatic for Spambellina that she had to go and write a poem about it, just to get Bucko’s vacant leer out of her system.

The Word Made Pork

Haunted pig, holy pig
patron pig of every lonely soul
who ever showed up, empty,
at the wrong trough, to fill
the wrong void. That void
belongs to you, Oh Pig –
I see it yawn behind the vacant
doorways of your eyes.

I’m making out with my beloved in his car
in the parking lot outside the Waffle House. And I’m full –
fuller than I’ve been forever,
belly filled with waffles, mouth filled
with his tongue, arms filled with the man who
fuels and fucks and feeds me.

Across the street, two planetary eyes
lock dead on mine. Trojan swine of Bucko’s Barbecue,
hugely hollow scavenger of joy,
he wants the supper in my belly, the hand that’s spinning joy
between my thighs. Flesh, waffles,
anything to feed his fiberglass abyss.

He craves the mysteries of my meat-heart,
the fire that comes from no infernal barbecue. He longs to plunge
his snout into the pit of me, to root inside
the warm, wet cavern of my gut. To merge with me,
become me, when I come for my beloved
outside the Waffle House.

Haunted pig, holy pig
salvation pig to every solitary soul
who went out seeking meat, and straggled home
with pocketfuls of dust
That dust belongs to you, Oh Pig.
Please spare this sweet true flesh that feeds me, fills me
feeds me once again. Let me have
this overflow of love.

Author: Spambellina
Photos: JS, who risked life and limb to take these shots outside the Waffle House, while being harrassed by Camaro-driving philanderers who thought he was a PI hired by their wives. Photography is a dangerous hobby these days.

Be Cowherd, Be Colloquial

Spambellina Says: Bucolic invocatives rub elbows with fish, horses, radiometers, and various chemical elements in this delightful tossed salad o’ spam. I feel vaguely inspired by this one, as if I were reading the collected letters of Eleanor Roosevelt, churned through a meat grinder. With a guest appearance by Confucious, how could I resist?

Cowherd the colloquial,
shrunken but philistine —
be bullfinch but filet,
it’s radiometer but windbreak.

Be decolonize but chairwoman
slip genuine not ingestion.
Be corp and polypropylene
try adjoin and lucerne
not ministerial try fermion
and variant a papillary
or cabin on sung . . .

It’s tristan not
reverberate not bifocal in asia
or bentham on denunciation
it’s pillsbury not cargo
try catalytic the confabulate.
Compromise but courtesan
abigail be complaisant
the susceptible czech may confucius
and imperishable
or fluorite on nowadays or woeful not shad.

Some cutlet a optometrist
try adieu in acquittal
not galena not analeptic
some horseback a jungle.

Not cursive in churchman but commonality the ream some.

Author: Bessie Jacob (with the inevitable tinkering of Spambellina)
Contributed by: JS

The Birth Cat Pilot Longs for Death and Gravity

The birth cat pilot had voiceless hung
above the void where his beginning
and his end touched hands.
The conclusion of a life
spent sleeping seemed less like
death than dreaming.

Soundlessly he begged the dark
to take him back to birth, to the
blind suckling that came
before his summons to the stars,
before the burden of wings.

He closed his eyes, released his claws –
the abyss wouldn’t take him. Night
held him hovering over silence.
Wings, voice, claws, tail
were useless to a birth cat pilot
longing for gravity.


Author: Spambellina
Inspired by: A line from “Summer Time” from Aleshia Thompson: The birth cat pilot had voiceless hung. Received on January 17, 2007

July 2018
« Apr