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mcadam

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Apr 3, 2004
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I've begun to get the most amazingly dada-poetic spam mail:

enchantments filled gesticulate plots seasons
taught cursory animal surround chaos
restaurants basses defrocked rabbits possessions
keeps shirt typical directors arrested?
speck monsoon' rubber communal appending
reached host threshold deposit perishes
tonight pretexts lameness decently piled
still firemen lilies vouched ring
supported satire hunger guffawed throng
darkhaired slight sundial sector obtain
comparing doorpost connected computer flatteringly
cannon harmoniously amicably thunderous sometime

It's written by someone called Myles Bridgett, though I assume it's a nom de plume. Apparently it's about buying viagra (advert attached as picture), though I think it contains many more deep layers of meaning than that. It simply open up so many questions.
Normally I don't like art when it gets too commercial. But when commerce turns into art, it ... turns me on. Imho it's beautifull :D
Anyone else seen these?

A
 
Meh.

Random computer generated C^@&

It's randomly generated by the spam sending program so that anti-spam filters can't use a fixed character count or string match to identify it as spam.

The latest 'magic pills' one I received started

"brassy phrase lake adopt"

The one before

"fall mouth a little at the same time
and produced my last letter
to intrigue a navigator
and went balancing myself up and down
- all day linkage she seemed to think"
 
Random! no way! A sweatshop full of Vietnamese child poets sounds just quiiite a bit more likely to me. Only a human could create a sentence as intriguinly profound and romantic as this:

would fly to the wurelds furdest end to keep off seeing me. For
which of the gold watches that are capped and jewelled and After this

by Royce Wright

Ok - Royce Wright doesn't sound so Vietnamese, but as I said - I think it's just a pseudonym.

A
 
Yup. That's poetry. Found poetry, in fact.

Not as good as the stuff in this translation thread, though ...

Refrains came again into the sense and thus automatically also memories of the the rodent time. According to my opinion MUST for all memo twenties!
 
thedude110 said:
Yup. That's poetry. Found poetry, in fact.

Not as good as the stuff in this translation thread, though ...

Refrains came again into the sense and thus automatically also memories of the the rodent time. According to my opinion MUST for all memo twenties!
Nah.
The critical point is that phrases are "pulled from random sources and assembled in such a way as to provide new meaning" Not randomly assembled.

It is not enough to juggle
"noun verb adjective noun noun"
from random sources into random order deviod of meaning
With a few primitive rules for word combinations, they can be english-like enough for the reader to attempt to find meaning in them.

If you go to the examples of found poetry from Wikipedia, the difference between that and the spam examples is immediately apparent.


Here - riddle me this - is this art?

"Spitting for lowering briskly done
Creaming like a guinea pig the situation fell to tight motives
It sinks with alarmed, happy abandon,
The feminine eyes of the cow rolled back at the sight of the choruses
Run through the field of joy, past your lover, and embrace an indian elephant instead"

http://www-cs-students.stanford.edu/~esincoff/poetry/jpoetry.html

"you dreamt gently
I whispered with you
the sweet desire died late
the sad misery told them a cold desire
a stormy heart loved me
I came with me
he loved him soon
you felt you late
a frenetic heart surrendered for the graceful rose
a breeze loved me"

http://www.cs.bham.ac.uk/~nxm/mscPoetry/Poetry/CGPoetry.html

They are quasi-english, sure. But they are both simply Java programs that assemble words.
 
Hmmm CanadaRAM, I think your definition of poetry is just a tiny bit narrow. But if you insist they're not Vietnamese but from Java I'm willing to give you the benefit of doubt.

A
 
Yes! Most certainly it's bad art! If only the programmer wasn't relying on such "poetic" words.

Or ... poems don't require intent, just discovery.

The L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets of the 70's and 80's (who I adore -- there are still some clinging to the tenets of the movement today!) wrote many nonsense poems, often "translating" poems from English to nonsense!

Such that David Melnick wrote:

"meom-a

meom-b"

and had it anthologized.

Now THAT'S poetry!

And I would argue that in the examples above, the words have been pulled out of the language purposefully (to get by filters) and then reassmbled. In any case, there's no denying there's an assembly of words. And for us poets, where there's an assembly of words, there's a poem ...
 
thedude110 said:
poems don't require intent, just discovery.

Very well put dude :) and thanks to both of you for the links and examples.

I'd never imagined this to turn into such detailed discussion of the correct definition of poetry, hehe. But since we're allready in it I think we should coin the term: Spam poetry :D

edit: I should have known - it has allready been coined years ago. Duh. Though I think quality has improved since.

And fresh from my spam box, this one is simply called "hi":

not live sleep
He understand spell
not worry put
from organise put
Of run know
active drink speak
With sleep sign
by borrow change
me sleep need
Which see translate
I sing allow

By Fitzpatrick Candy

The best one I've gotten so far. "not live sleep" - wow.
And the last half both (almost) rhyme and rythm.

A
 
In addition to what CanadaRAM has already said, spam filters in programs like Outlook use a "weighting" system to determine if a message is likely spam... every word (not EVERY word, but most common words) is assigned a weight value, either positive or negative. Obvious spam words like "Viagra" are assigned a high negative value, while non-spam words are assigned a small positive value. If the cumulative value of the words in the message falls below a certain value, the message is tagged as spam... so, a spammer can work around the spam filter by loading up a message with high-positive value words.
 
Reminds me of "sporge" from Usenet. Here's an example posting:

Actual post title: "my fat cup won't smell before I judge it"

It's very stale today, I'll solve inadvertently or Susie will
converse the exits. Some active grocers around the rude evening were
attacking alongside the sticky ceiling. Other long good tickets will
mould stupidly above oranges.

He'll be helping towards pathetic Milton until his puddle changes sadly. If you will open Ron's foothill
without walnuts, it will daily reject the desk. She may unbelievably call within Neal when the
sour envelopes improve below the wet planet.

Will you walk below the station, if Jessica surprisingly dyes the
card? Why doesn't Dilbert learn undoubtably? Let's shout alongside the
rich signs, but don't irritate the empty cats.

Until Terrance fills the bandages tamely, Ben won't measure any
light rooms. Every fat easy pear pulls buttons within Perry's
sweet candle. How does Norman like so happily, whenever Liz
recommends the dark twig very stupidly? Every durable short
codes locally promise as the think counters believe.

It can waste the weird jug and grasp it among its canyon.

No noisy books smell Diane, and they generally burn Ronette too.
Just now, go kick a pickle! Try not to cook the barbers wistfully,
creep them weekly. Hey, clouds sow at dull earths, unless they're
closed. I am crudely blank, so I fear you.

She wants to depart deep ointments in front of Kristen's plain.
They excuse dry potters before the urban pretty house, whilst
Dickie wrongly scolds them too. Get your hatefully loving teacher
in back of my forest. It can play totally, unless Ronette covers
eggs in front of Tamara's cobbler.

She'd rather order hourly than jump with Norbert's distant cap.

Better join coconuts now or Owen will seemingly dine them in back of you.
One more brave raindrops are elder and other glad floors are
shallow, but will Gay answer that? Lawrence! You'll dream carrots.
Yesterday, I'll live the unit. For Kathy the sticker's clean,
above me it's open, whereas about you it's looking bizarre.
Claude, still killing, laughs almost loudly, as the farmer expects
before their dryer. We taste them, then we angrily nibble Junior and
Martha's clever printer. Try not to talk a dose! Just explaining
under a draper in front of the ocean is too healthy for Mel to
behave it. How will you wander the younger lost ulcers before
Gregory does? We biweekly tease heavy and seeks our old, young
lentils under a kiosk. You won't judge me caring between your
fresh summer. Ronnie, without wrinkles cold and hot, climbs
among it, combing eventually. He might receive fully if Ollie's
frog isn't poor. The thin tree rarely moves Sarah, it hates
Robert instead. Plenty of solid tag or moon, and she'll strangely
pour everybody. If you'll irrigate Lara's office with pools, it'll
easily clean the dust. He can lift polite gardners, do you arrive them? To be
kind or abysmal will attempt cheap dogs to finitely recollect.
Every enigmas sneakily change the dirty spring. The fig before the
difficult monolith is the shopkeeper that creeps slowly. While
jars firmly lift tailors, the frames often dye under the filthy
kettles. Otherwise the tape in Julie's ball might attack some
worthwhile weavers. The lemons, sauces, and cases are all angry and
bad.

Some carpenters clean, judge, and depart. Others strongly grasp.

I was killing to excuse you some of my inner pumpkins.

My handsome bowl won't receive before I attempt it.

Steven climbs the boat throughout hers and familiarly fears.

What Kristen's smart yogi irritates, Norris likes under cosmetic,
quiet mirrors. It learned, you irrigated, yet Samantha never
lazily played in front of the cafe.

We wander the rural tyrant. Both combing now, Jim and Mitch
hated the sharp obelisks about sad shirt. As smartly as Timothy
dines, you can help the porter much more frantically. They are
conversing behind the desert now, won't mould shoes later. What did
Edwina look over all the elbows? We can't pull pitchers unless
Wally will halfheartedly care afterwards. Who lives neatly, when
Margaret pours the bitter spoon without the lane? Hardly any
full tired cars will believably explain the aches. Gawd, it
kicks a disk too lower beside her new light. Gawd, Yvette never
behaves until Georgette scolds the weak butcher furiously. Little by little
Oris will burn the bush, and if Guido freely teases it too, the
pin will seek alongside the raw mountain. Try moving the cellar's
blunt plate and Laura will cook you! Plenty of hens will be
wide lazy cans.

Don't even try to talk lovingly while you're arriving inside a
strong bucket. John's diet covers inside our cup after we join
above it. They are shouting beneath humble, for lean, above
upper onions. Peter jumps, then Andy actually recommends a hollow
jacket towards Russell's bathroom. If the unique smogs can believe
partially, the stupid hat may laugh more ventilators.

Her film was proud, outer, and improves in front of the shore. I was
loving sauces to ugly Vincent, who's walking before the painter's
corner. Why did Clifford order the fork in front of the sick
coffee?

How will we call after Kaye nibbles the strange navel's paper?
Ronald, have a hollow poultice. You won't solve it. She can
dream once, recollect weakly, then waste between the pen over the
hallway. Tell Roger it's sour smelling towards a game.

Are you smart, I mean, measuring below distant goldsmiths? I
globally reject in cold poor camps. I was filling powders to
light Toni, who's answering above the game's satellite. What did
Al sow the disk in front of the good ball?

It's interesting how complete gibberish can flow so smoothly.
 
Monkeys on typewriters, folks.

If any assemblage of words is viewable as poetry, then the definition has lost its meaning.

In order to be poetry IMCO (in my curmudgeonly opinion) there has to be intent, and context.

The Found poetry examples, for example, definitely have a satirical context - they intend to provoke a reaction at both the poem and the source materiel it was drawn from.

Nonsense and gibberish poetry similarly was written with intent, and the reader is informed by the context of its origin, presentation or juxtaposition against other things (poems, events, cultural givens)

'Twas brillig and the slithy troves

is confusing as all hell but also a wonderment for the reader. And not random in the least.

A computer generated or random group of words is just that -- a random group of words, without intent, context or intelligence (or sensibility, or instinct if you prefer) behind them.

They may be interesting in their randomness -- and pulling them from spam and presenting them in context such as at the Spam Poetry link -- and thus turning them into the source for Found poetry -- gives them some meaning -- but here again, it is after the process of intent, selection and presentation by an author.
 
What about the intent of the reader? Can't the reader make a poem out of what wasn't a poem before? The reader is as armed with intent as the writer, and the reader certainly plays a significant role in defining what is and is not a poem. Most poets I know would say that once they've written something, it certainly doesn't belong to them (and, to a large extent, what they meant to write or mean doesn't really matter!).

To respond more directly, you'd have a hard time convincing me, for example, that menus are not poems.
 
Right on target dude...

Let me come with an example, but you'll have to excuse me for expanding the subject slightly. This expansion however will take us to the root of all our problems with definitions.

Some of the most important pieces of art ever made are Marcel Duchamp's ready-mades, though he can hardly be said to have made them in the traditional sence of the word. They were found objects, made with no intent and no context of being artistic or poetic. But that was exactly what Duchamp added to them. He did not create them - he percieved them. The 'intention' is never in the object, but in the subject who percieves and interprets.


Another example:

CanadaRAM, CanadaRAM
you're not a fan
of poetry spam

Though I have written this with both intention and in a context, it even rhymes, it is hardly poetic. But then again - it's all in the eye of the beholder.

Finally, to follow CanadaRAM's curmodgeonly (and thankyou for that word :)) argumentation, one would have to agree to the statement "nature can hold no poetry". I don't think you have to believe in intelligent design to see the absurdity in that.

A
 
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