Spam-alot

I woke up in the middle of the night, wondering what ever happened to the spam haikus I used to have. Thank you internet......................

Silent, former pig

one communal awareness

myriad pink bricks

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.

You wait to feed

mestoic vigil on the shelf

ah my vibrant pink

Jelly for mortar

seven hundred tins and more

I build a Spam house

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

Oh Argentina!

Your little tin of meat soars

Above the pampas

The color of Spam

natural as the sky:

A block of sunrise

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?

In the cool morning

I fry up a slab of Spam

A dog barks next door

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

Slicing your sweet self

Salivating in suspense

Sizzle, sizzle...Spam

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.

If you cut open

A SPAM can with a jigsaw

The blade will smell weird.

Myrrh, frankincense, and

SPAM: the gifts of two wise men

and one complete fool.

Bright lights and cruel cops

grill the suspect pork product

It doesn't confess.

Old retired jocks to

star in ads for new SPAM Lite

"Tastes filling!" "Less great!"

After scrutiny,

me thinks 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 shoes on

But remembered far too late

My secret SPAM stash.