Lordy lordy lordy

One fine morning the sun will rise, and the catfish jumps.
I look in the eye but hear only the wind, hollow through my earwax.

Soft, tired and wary, I wonder if it can compose such crap as I;
Strings of electric word, corpses hanging across the river,
into the Heart of Cambodia.

It's all junk, spunk and spam;
It all stinks like morning coffee,
sleeved but not filtered.
Fried spam tastes like gibberish & Jabberwocky.

Good morning Vietnam. I love our mistakes as much as spam.
I'll have the spam, spam, spam, spam spam with spam.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.