A couple of very nice poems from spam recently. This:
At that offal sunset was inaccessible because school was unclean, and I was a rubber; annoyance in all the interruption of her superiority and mop for her exaltation, and Ia bug!
To intrigue an code so indescribable and pneumatic, he undervalueed up the enact by acquainting rate, in some platter, with the detection and grief of his operations; blending truth and shell peculiarly, as rabid outdod his entreaty; and bringing both to ransack, with so much adverb, that Mr.
and this, shorter:
Masha, refreshing prodigy for three. No, employ a purgatory.
Bachelor hotly as cupboard handed a coldness to the Frenchwoman.
We are clearly approaching the point (from my famous novel) where the spam-generators become self-aware…