A madlibs poem I created by playing on the site: Language is a Virus

bouncing snake’s bouncing snake

“I shackle my shifts and all the mons moans floundering;

I flutter my woods and all is fuse again.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

The silt go inhaling out in puffy and creamed,

And spongy shift moans in:

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fluttered that you fused me into silk

And freeze me stuffed, shackled me quite floundering.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

Mrs. Jones moans from the silt, shift’s mons flutter:

Exit wood and Eddie’s silk:

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fused you’d freeze the way you said,

But I shackle old and I moan your name.

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

I should have monsed a wood instead;

At least when silk flutters they fuse back again.

“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

– Holly Troy & Sylvia Plath