“SPAM” – Mystery Mixture in a Can,
Cut it, Fry it, In a Pan.
When was First out On my Own,
Kept me Fed – Do not Bemoan.

“SPAM” – Junk that Flows to my Computer,
Certainly a Persecutor.
Like “Web Rabbits” Multiply,
Straight to In Box Ramify.

“SPAM” – A New Meaning straight to Me,
Aliens Beamed a Decree,
Trip to Earth no Longer Wary,
“Space People Arriving Merry.”

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About Bob Grant

I truly enjoy writing Rhymes. It is sort of like putting a puzzle together with words. However, I am not a Poet! I am in awe of anyone who writes true poetry. I will continue writing Rhymes as long as there are functioning brain cells in my brain.
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