Long time readers know of my fondness for taking the nonsense verbiage one finds in scam and spam emails (computer generated and inserted at the ends of such emails to defeat spam blockers), and transform them into poetry. Three more such emails briefly polluted my In Box at work today, and I now present the newest spam poetry masterpiece. But reader beware: this poem possesses such a depth of darkness, misanthropy and bitterness that it might well induce totally incapacitating despair and depression.
Having warned you, let us now proceed:
The Meaningless of Names & Futility of Everything
is this a good age for this 17
You might wonder why you feel so full of despair and depression. Permit me, in my other role as literary critic, to explain.
The first two lines seem to do nothing but cast a random name onto the page, and they seem to contain no meaning. Well that is exactly what they do, that is exactly correct, and that is exactly the point! This random name, chosen from billions upon billions of possibilities, contains the greatest meaning in its sheer lack of meaning! The sheer lack of meaning in four words forces the reader to confront the sheer lack of meaning in the entire universe!
Which brings the reader to the third line, a line that represents the apotheosis of minimalist poetry. Indeed, what daring poet conceived of the notion of poetry without any words at all! Just a short simple line that divides the first half of the poem from the second half, and indeed introduces a wall that separates “Barbara Agan” from “Mark Gresh,” symbolizing the walls, virtual or real, that separate one human being from another. In the final line of this minimalist epic or epic minimalism, names are discarded entirely; instead we are a number, the number 17. But why 17? Why not 5? Why not 2,841,669? Because no meaning exists in any of these numbers. It doesn’t matter. Indeed, the computer software poet feels so full of despair that it cannot program itself to end its work with the required question mark. Why bother? What’s the point? Everything has no meaning anyway.
So that’s why you feel so full of despair and depression.
Can’t blame me. I warned you.
Vonn Scott Bair