The writer’s block has passed, possibly due to the sense of betrayal in a recent poem having sparked the creative juices. I’ve been getting loads of these so I thought I’d save them up. In order of appearence:
seven whos east know
bit go got towards
I can’t decide if this indicates some sort of Freudian regression or some sort of apocalypse predictation in the mode of Nostradamus.
pronunciation miles fail awhile hurried
sorry news fancy meeting knows but
DS is back onto that lost relationship again here I think. This speaks of the difficulty in talking, the problems of words to express feelings when there is so little time to speak and make up for what has passed. The final ‘but’ lingers without a conclusion, leaving the reader hoping for resolution where DS feels there can be none.
remember drew though favorite
modern however glass
A more optimistic tone comes through in this one. DS appears to be embracing a modern city, with its conflicting materials. Perhaps DS is seeing trees reflected in the glass of a building. This might be the first time that DS has hinted at a physical location. I wonder if we’ll see more of this in future?
moon as welcome
met considered went
taught break letter buy bit
A tricky one. I think it’s a night-time contemplation of the brief meeting discussed two poems ago and the feelings of frustrated communication that it provoked.
thats either motor luck or coming
everyone away found proceeded
awhile promise is inside
DS here seems to be resolving to move on with its life. That third line definitely speaks of a determination to be true to itself and put heartbreak behind it. Good for you DS!
Now, here’s a curious one. Usually the DS poems appear with only an attachment (I couldn’t tell you what it’s for, I’m not daft enough to open it), but this one appeared with an advert for ‘the hottest Pornostars pics and videos’.
While the form is apparently similar to that of DS, I think you’ll agree that the poem just isn’t up to scratch:
bequeath affricate armpit atlas
direct covariate bawd blur
dalhousie bey bleat artie
What does that mean? It’s just a load of nonsense. Either this isn’t DS or DS was only doing this for the money and randomly made up any old rubbish. We’ve all got bills to pay you know!
For new readers: Digital Shakespeare, DS, is a series of poems that I get sent quite regularly as junk mail. The system generates a random string of words over three lines to avoid the junk mail filter. The idea is, I think, that out of curiosity I’ll open the attachment that always comes with the poems. I find the random lines rather wistful so I’ve decided to log them and put quick interpretations of them on here. There’s not really an overall point to this, just that I think beauty is where you find it, so it’s worth keeping your eyes open to see when it appears in the strangest of places.