Mon 12 Nov 2007
Poesy Heresy
Posted by anaglyph under Competition!, Poetry, Spam Observations
[32] Comments
Spam Observations #45
Terrapraeta, longtime Cow reader and sometime commenter, earlier this week had a cheery howdy-doody from her new-found friend Rhonda K Lugo. With her well-honed Cow sensibilities, TP instantly knew I would need to bring Rhonda’s musings to the attention of the Cownoscenti.
Those of you with keen memories will recall that a little while back I suggested to Fabron Jenkins and his spammy pals that their ham-fisted wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am approach could do with some re-imagining (as they like to say in the ad business) and that they therefore might like to consider waxing a little more poetic with their paeans to Sildenafil.
Sure enough, with the sophistication of Keats and Brooke and the subtlety of Yeats and Eliot, Rhonda K is first out of the starting gates:
Now that you’ve got a girl that’s hot
You wanna screw her juicy twat.
She’s full of passion, she’s so nice!
But would your penile size suffice?
Not sure she will long for more?
You need a wang she would adore!
But how to raise it long and thick?
Your only hope is MegaDik!
You’ll get so wanted super-size
And see wild craving in her eyes!
Your rod will stuff her poon so deep,
Tonight you’ll hardly fall asleep!
Ah, the passion! The yearning! The verve! The style! Not quite how Rupert would have put it, fair enough, but hey, at least Rhonda’s giving it a go!
So. You all know what the The Reverend does when he sees that the ante is desirous of upping – yes, that’s right, he holds a competition!
Namely: Write a piece of spam in the style of your favourite poet.
Now pay careful attention to The Rules:
• Your favourite poet may not be yourself.
• Your favourite poet may not be Joey Polanski.
• Your favourite poet may not be Rhonda K Lugo.
• NO references to Rasputin. Save that for January 1.
OK. Have at it Acowlytes. There will be a prize. If Joey wins he can nominate to whom his prize is delivered.
32 Responses to “ Poesy Heresy ”
Trackbacks & Pingbacks:
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[…] readers have dazzled me with their wit and their prowess in the literary arena. The task was to write a piece of Sildenafil Spam in the style of your favourite poet. The Cownoscenti rose to the challenge quicker than you can pop a little blue […]
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[…] my new best buddy Evan Eva doesn’t reach the poetic or literate heights of Landon Flanagan, Rhonda K or Raymondo, he at least got a laugh out of me with his email this morning: From: […]
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[…] may remember some suggestions previously here on The Cow for methods by which spammers might… hmmm… let’s say […]
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[…] like the halcyon days of Wondercum, the quaint capers of Victorian punting or the musings of the Great Spam Poets of […]
poon?
But my favourite poet is Joey Polanski!
Everybody’s favourite poet is Joey Polanski. That’s why he’s prohibited.
And to boot it off:
A hipster at a dance club trendy, deplores his member, soft and bendy
Wobbling sadly, limp and lifeless, pointing feebly at the floor
The girl he fancies shimmies over – oh noes he should be in the clover!
And Mr Perky’s run for cover just like every time before!
But now it’s Sildenafil to the rescue with effects he can’t ignore!
Quoth the Raver, Nevermore!
i’ve always wondered, those pills that supposedly make the wang three inches bigger, if i took three doses, would i grow a 9 inch cock? hmmm…
You got to give them props for creativity
Soft, limp as the bush’s branch
A penis touched never, ever
A sad man sits alone, unrooted
Never getting any now, and now, and now
Till, with a sudden sharp use of credit card
XtraSize+ is taken three times daily
The penis is rock hard, the chick clicks,
The girl is fucked.
Is it a requirement that we post our entries here?
Universal Head: Masterful!
jmf: Well, you can post it on someone else’s blog but it might not make a lot of sense to them.
I bet you thought you’d never see
A penis so lovely or sexy.
A dick whose throbbing head is pressed
Against your lady’s massive breast;
A cock that throbs and stands on end,
Upright and stiff and will not bend;
A wang that may, inside her blast
A TON of cum, and super fast!
Upon her chin she’ll want your sperm
Or deep inside, so hard and firm;
Boners are made with “Shaft of Steel”
So order now to make her squeal.
And that’s in the style of who, exactly?
Joyce Kilmer.
I asked for it I guess. Beautiful.
if i f*ck you
if i f*ck You
(thickness means
my pen!s not short & Soft;
inhabited now by rampantly
hard massive faeries
if you f*ck
me) MegaDik is taken carefully,
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of engorged wet dream
if we f*ck each (spurm-drenched)
other, what wangs do or Silently
Fannies resembles beauty
less than our copulating
Oh, I so hope the spammers are tuning in!
Canto I
Let us go then, Penis and I
While the fuzzy wuzzy wuggle lips stretch the sky
When the women view us with amorous eye
With the my wee willie wipple reaching for the sky
To find the Salt Wells flats tasty treats
To pull on old and saggy teats
The whore house famous for being a town
Wearing the Nevada desert as a weathered cotton gown
I the night the spammers call me pard’
and try to give me pills to make me hard
The cum drop falls on crag walls
as TequiMo watches with same old story
No limp dicks to flip the chicks
Sorry Angry man of no glory.
Ms Fay knows that beef cake grows
enlarged when supplimented
SaraSue will shout “all wangs out”
and your lady will be contented.
the hillbilly’s scrotum sags,
as his racist tongue wags.
[push push]
those pills with a woosh
right up your butt;
let’s hope you can bust a nut
so it’s worth the shilling
you paid in hopes of filling
some rancid prostitute
with your seminal loot.
Oh my! What extraordinary talent! Competition is open until the end of the weekend. This is going to be really tough to judge.
Mutation
THEY talk of short-sized penile pleasure–be it so–
Pleasure dies as quickly; short, soft-featured pleasure
Expires, and lets her tiny prisoner go.
The fiercest men have the shortest stems;
And after dreams of grandeur, comes again
The un-welcome morning and shortish glory.
She, softly wiping out the stain,
Makes the strong secret pangs of him to cease:
Remorse is virtue’s root; if only his size would increase
And pick her fruit from deep inside;
Thus joy, o’erborne and bound, doth she release
His new length found from magic pills.
Weep not she at the changes—fuck me deep
A short, changeless penile state, ’twere cause indeed to weep
This is fantastic! Where’s Polanski??
Advice for Old Marrieds
I do so love me husband
it’s just that in the sack
His once so lofty member
has now become quite slack
I went for our salvation
Into the Internet.
I read of rock hard willies
And vadges tight and wet
If I clicked upon it,
For just eight ninety nine,
a magic pill or potion,
or gizmo could be mine.
So we sent off, and shortly,
the mailman came around.
And trembling with glee,
do you know what we found?
We rubbed on the lotion
Took pills and drank the fizz.
But the wet muff wasn’t mine
and the hard dick wasn’t his.
So beware young bride & bridegroom
And heed our sorry tale.
You must beware of trusting
Things arriving in the mail.
And indeed there will be time
For the briny vaginy that slides along the meat,
Arching her back and loving feeling things;
There will be time,
To prepare your face to lick the traces of her feet;
There will be time take a pill and make some haste,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and sit a cooter on your face;
Time for you to straddle me,
And time yet for a hundred repititions,
And for a hundred comliments and revisions,
Before the smoking of little old me.
In the night the spammers call me pard’
and try to give me pills to make me hard
anaglyph, I’m so glad you like Lord Alfred T.
Norm’ly it’s red
If you squeeze it, it’s blue
Because of Viagra
My dick’s hard for you.
A cautionary tale from Pervy Tush Shilley
I met a traveller in the cyber land
Who said: A vast and trunklike cock of stone
Stands in the desert. Near it on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter’d visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp’d on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock’d them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of cocks:
Look on my wang, ye mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
If he’d taken MasterStamina, he’d still be going strong.
“Pervy Tush Shilley”!!
sara sue said “tush” heehee