I in ur sonnet, doin ur ritin.
How do this hapn? I just a kitty.
Main job of catz are just 2B pritty!
(‘Cept with the doggies, then us be fitin.)
Course back in da old days catz was workin
Eatin ur mouses an axin fr milk…
Now giv me treatz or me clawin ur silk!
An bring em here fast, none of ur shirkin.
U humanz r comin under r powr
Uzin ur money to pamper n feed us,
Learnin from websitez how much u need us.
R clvr planz is comin to flower!
Now mousie are safe in his tiny holz
Nless u go catch him. I da boss. LOLz
This comes from Making Light, and that first poem started a whole run of ridiculous, geeky humor, such as a l33T version of Shelley’s Tyger. I wonder if that is going to ever become a recognized dialect, or just a badge of geekhood for those who can actually speak and/or interpret it. It’d kill me to read a book written entirely that way. Hmm. A challenge, perhaps?