The Spamalsaurus hears the ruckus somewhere close,
and sees the gathering throng –
like gulls collecting for a feast o’er lean and slick sardines;
He creeps forth silent as a breeze
and happens ‘pon the place
where readers click with frenzied fire
upon the newest post;
The Spamalsaurus reaches in — avoiding sharp beaks all around
and spins himself around and down
the vortex to the freshest poem.
And comments: I’ve never seen this greatest post before
and it has all I need and more
but have you thought of other ways
to bring in “likes” for days and days?
Then click below — I’ll help you out.
The Spamalsaurus withdraws his snout
and turns — his business’s all about
how many notes he can can leave behind.
There is no reason, and no rhyme
to the Spamalsaurus — at any time.
Fear the beast, I say to all,
lest to his trickery you fall.