The damn thing's got too many holes,
I’m also missing several poles.
Instructions I simply cannot read.
This confounded thing's about to breed!
Pieces covering every inch of floor
I can no longer walk on as before,
and almost fifteen thousand bolts
I demand to know whose fault!
For gods sake this piece is upside down
so I stare at it with such a frown
because now I have to disassemble,
in hope, next time, it might resemble.
Five hours have gone and still the bits
stare back at me, I have a fit!
I swear and curse in a contortion
as this things all out of proportion!
You need six hands and several feet
or else this puzzle's has got you beat!
I fear that I might die before
these bits have gone from off my floor!
It says G6 to seven, then F2 to three
apparently using screws A, B and C,
from now on I'll just have to guess,
it's easier to beat Kasparov at chess!
Eventually I build this piece,
seemingly it’s for my niece!
My wife tells me it should be blue,
I reply ‘over to you!'
When I think of all the seconds I drubbed my fingers
On the skin of long-drummed typefaces to wipe spam
Away from the screen of my inboxes in my computers
I wonder how many years of my life drift as flotsam
So many sales pitches tail in mouth in epizeuses
String their tuneless spiralling from end to no-end
Swim in the swirling soup strings of multiverse oases
Lost as jetsam into a blacksucked bottomless oven
A spam is a foe who seeks to con you as an old friend
Sure don’t mean that old spiv driveling over your girl
But who’ll make you think you’re good for a lend
While he seeks to worm your hard disc in a whirl
McPeesee McCoffee McMoney or McMaster Kasparov
Spam is the Checkmate King none of us can fend off
© T. Wignesan – Paris, from the Collection “Poems Omega Plus”, 2005.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.