A poem about the most important moment in the history of baseball, which has not yet happened, and might not happen, but should definitely happen.
In celebration of a couple of momentous milestones, here is what may well prove to be our last spam poem ever. It is, perhaps more fittingly than we know, about the Super Bowl.
Some mysteries are so esoteric that they can only be properly assessed in verse. This year's Golden State Warriors aren't necessarily that, but this is a poem about them.
In an inspirational return, our spam poetry series tackles the big questions, including the lifestyle of an SEO Panda.
Another year older, another year of trying to figure out the Basenji Dog Secret. The internet's hard-spamming robot chorus is here to help.
It might not be the best idea to ask horny, spammy internet robots for romantic advice on Valentine's Day. But they're going to offer that advice anyway, because that is what they do.
The latest in our occasional series of poems inspired by and consisting entirely of the more evocative spam comments on this site. Concerning, in this case, the cashmere shoes of King Ken Griffey, Jr.
In which robo-hucksters offer some constructive criticism and sage advice about improving the site, and also discuss problems at home, and finally offer an amazing deal on "sex tubes."
The spammers are still speaking. We are still listening. And from this familiar torrent of OUTRAGEOUS DEALS ON SUNGLASSES, a poetic message has emerged. It's also mostly about sunglasses.
A new poem about writing less and nail fungus, brought to you by the hundreds of spam comments that we delete every week. Don't thank us, thank the internet.