http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/vogonpoetry/lettergen.shtml
Anyone else may wonder why we've gone out of our way to generate auto poetry like this:
See, see the old sky
Marvel at its big beige depths.
Tell me, friend do you
Wonder why the genet ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel slithery.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your offddddog facial growth
That looks like
A mould.
What's more, it knows
Your clart potting shed
Smells of grass.
Everything under the big old sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm my cats.
See, see the awesome sky
ReplyDeleteMarvel at its big pink depths.
Tell me, Lexi do you
Wonder why the troll ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel drowsy.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your huggle facial growth
That looks like
A milk.
What's more, it knows
Your epidermis potting shed
Smells of Bill Gate's penis.
Everything under the big awesome sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm bird ****s.--
mafia games
ReplyDeleteoh the wifom!
let us hope that town will prevail
On a dark and stormy night
ReplyDeleteor at least I expect it to be tonight
I ready these enchanting words.
This poem doeth inspire
to make me stand on the highest spire
and vomit out my curds.
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
ReplyDeleteThy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.
My shoelace is purple
ReplyDeleteNevertheless, He has judged her mailbox
We bow to ocean
Firefly
Frozen rubber can melt horses and their paws
Colorless yellow words tire easily
And more, it knows swords can eat
I have three