ganked from whiteblaze,net
Blue can of steel
what promise do you hold?
salt flesh so ripe
Can of metal, slick
soft center, so cool, moistening
I yearn for your salt
Twist, pull the sharp lid
Jerks and cuts me deeply but
Spam, aaah, my poultice.
My friend pork shoulder
I return to you. this time
I've brought mayonnaise
Above all others
porcine treat without equal
there is but one Spam
Clad in metal, proud
no mere salt-curing for you
you are not bacon
And who dares mock Spam?
you? you? you are not worthy
of one rich pink fleck
Grotesque pinkish mass
In a blue can on a shelf
Quivering alone
Like some spongy rock
A granite, my piece of Spam
In sunlight on my plate
Little slab of meat
In a wash of clear jelly
Now I heat the pan
Oh tin of pink meat
I ponder what you may be:
Snout or ear or feet?
Pink tender morsel
Glistening with salty gel
What the hell is it?
Ears, snouts, and innards,
A homogenous mass
Pass another slice
Cube of cold pinkness
Yellow specks of porcine fat
Give me a spork please
Old man seeks doctor
"I eat Spam daily", he says.
Angioplasty
Highly unnatural
The tortured shape of this "food"
A small pink coffin
Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain
Vegetarian
Queasy, greasy SPAM
Slithers without propulsion
Across a white plate.
Born in World War Two
Hogs marching off to battle
Dressed in tin armor.
The blue can is square
Why not a circular can?
Too much like dog food.
When I was a kid
Mom would make SPAM casserole
Now she denies it.
Myrrh, frankincense, and
SPAM: the gifts of two wise men
and one complete fool.
Old retired jocks to
star in ads for new SPAM Lite
"Tastes filling!" "Less great!"
After scrutiny,
methinks it is doggie food
I eat on all fours.
In mud you frolicked
Till they cut, cleaned and canned you
How now, ground sow?
Cold SPAM canapes
Served up by John Belushi-
Martha Stewart's Hell!
Slice the cold, pink block
Apply to sucking chest wound
Don't need stitches now.
"Slow down," she whispered
now guiding my trembling hands
"Turn the key slowly."
Silken pig tofu
The color of spanked buttocks
Blushing at my knife.
SPAM, too, needs a wife
What consort for my Pork Prince?
Ah! The Velveeta!
SPAM glistens pinkly;
Cat taps it with wary paw
To see if it's dead.
I put my boots on
But remembered far too late
My secret SPAM stash.
what promise do you hold?
salt flesh so ripe
Can of metal, slick
soft center, so cool, moistening
I yearn for your salt
Twist, pull the sharp lid
Jerks and cuts me deeply but
Spam, aaah, my poultice.
My friend pork shoulder
I return to you. this time
I've brought mayonnaise
Above all others
porcine treat without equal
there is but one Spam
Clad in metal, proud
no mere salt-curing for you
you are not bacon
And who dares mock Spam?
you? you? you are not worthy
of one rich pink fleck
Grotesque pinkish mass
In a blue can on a shelf
Quivering alone
Like some spongy rock
A granite, my piece of Spam
In sunlight on my plate
Little slab of meat
In a wash of clear jelly
Now I heat the pan
Oh tin of pink meat
I ponder what you may be:
Snout or ear or feet?
Pink tender morsel
Glistening with salty gel
What the hell is it?
Ears, snouts, and innards,
A homogenous mass
Pass another slice
Cube of cold pinkness
Yellow specks of porcine fat
Give me a spork please
Old man seeks doctor
"I eat Spam daily", he says.
Angioplasty
Highly unnatural
The tortured shape of this "food"
A small pink coffin
Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain
Vegetarian
Queasy, greasy SPAM
Slithers without propulsion
Across a white plate.
Born in World War Two
Hogs marching off to battle
Dressed in tin armor.
The blue can is square
Why not a circular can?
Too much like dog food.
When I was a kid
Mom would make SPAM casserole
Now she denies it.
Myrrh, frankincense, and
SPAM: the gifts of two wise men
and one complete fool.
Old retired jocks to
star in ads for new SPAM Lite
"Tastes filling!" "Less great!"
After scrutiny,
methinks it is doggie food
I eat on all fours.
In mud you frolicked
Till they cut, cleaned and canned you
How now, ground sow?
Cold SPAM canapes
Served up by John Belushi-
Martha Stewart's Hell!
Slice the cold, pink block
Apply to sucking chest wound
Don't need stitches now.
"Slow down," she whispered
now guiding my trembling hands
"Turn the key slowly."
Silken pig tofu
The color of spanked buttocks
Blushing at my knife.
SPAM, too, needs a wife
What consort for my Pork Prince?
Ah! The Velveeta!
SPAM glistens pinkly;
Cat taps it with wary paw
To see if it's dead.
I put my boots on
But remembered far too late
My secret SPAM stash.