Spam Haikus
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Bluish can of steel
What promise do you hold?
Salty 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, ahh, my poultice

Silent former pig
One communal awareness
Myriad pink bricks

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

Like some spongy rock
A granite, my piece of Spam
Sunlight on my plate

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 heck is it?

Ears, snouts and innards
A homogeneous mass
Pass another slice

Old man seeks doctor
"I eat Spam daily," he says
Angioplasty

Hardly natural
Tortured shape, elastic food
A small pink coffin

Pink beefy temptress
I can no longer remain
Vegetarian

I, Stuart, made these up:
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Blob of flesh-toned stuff
So delicious and tasty
Much indigestion

Edible or not?
Will anyone ever know?
It does not matter

Rectangle of bliss
A more appropriate name
Would be ambrosia

One helpless, poor pig
Is transformed in the factory
Into a pink mass

And one for e-mailers and newsgroup readers:
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Spam, unwanted words
Clutter my reading daily
Will it ever stop?