On Monsieur Coué, by Charles Inge
This very remarkable manCommends a most practical plan:You can do what you wantIf you don’t think you can’tSo don’t think you can’t think you can.Animula Vagula Blandula, by Conrad Aiken
Animula vagula blandula,is it true that your origin's glandular?Must you twang for the Lordan umbilical chordlike all other impropagandula?EMPEROR HADRIAN (138)
Animula, vagula, blandulaHospes comesque corporisQuae nunc abibis in locaPallidula, rigida, nudula,Nec, ut soles, dabis iocos.”
The Axolotl, by David McCord
The axolotlLooks a littlLike the ozelotl,Itl Drink a greatlMore than whatlFill the fatlWhiskey bottl. The food it eatslBe no morsl:Only meatslDrive its dorsl. Such an awflFish to kettl!You said a mawflPop'epetl!A Word to husbands, by Ogden Nash
To keep your marriage brimmingWith love in the loving cup,Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;Whenever you’re right, shut up.Morning after, by Langston Hughes
I was so sick last night IDidn’t hardly know my mind.So sick last night IDidn’t know my mind.I drunk some bad licker thatAlmost made me blind. Had a dream last night IThought I was in hell.I drempt last night IThought I was in hell.Woke up and looked around me—Babe, your mouth was open like a well.I said, Baby! Baby!Please don’t snore so loud.Baby! Please!Please don’t snore so loud.You jest a little bit o’ woman but youSound like a great big crowd.
Word play, by Gyles Brandreth
Corsage, massage, triage, brioche,Pain au chocolat, à la carte, Juliette Binoche.Baguette, banquette, vinaigrette.Quelle horreur, agent provocateur, brunette. Au pair, pas de deux, tête-a-tête.Au revoir, ma crêpe Suzette!François Hollande, Valerie Trierweiler, Julie Gayet,Ménage a trois, crème fraiche, crème brulée. Faux pas, Grand Prix, espionage,Gruyère, Camembert, fromage.Mayonnaise, Nigel Farge.RSVP, ma crêpe Suzette.Hydrogen to chlorine — A Sonnet
tell me when thou wilt he mine, My beautiful ! my green! say our atoms shall combine, My love — my own Chlorine! How slowly will the moments pass, The sands of time will run; As Muriatic Acid Gas, Till thou and I make one! "Three ghostesses - Anonymous
Three little ghostesses,Sitting on postesses,Eating buttered toastesses,Greasing their fistesses,Up to their wristesses.Oh, what beastessesTo make such feastesses!One size fits all: a critical essay by David Lehman
ThoughAlreadyPerhapsHowever. On one level,Among other things,WithAnd with.In a similar veinTo be sure:Make no mistake.Nary a trace.However,Aside fromWithAnd with,NotAnd not,RatherManifestlyIndeed.
Which is to say,In fictional terms,For reasons that are never made clear,Not without meaning,Though (as is far from unusual)Perhaps too late.
The first thing that must be said isPerhaps, becauseAnd, not least of all,Certainly more,Which is to sayIn ever other respectMeanwhile.
But then perhapsThoughAnd thoughOn the wholeAlas.
MoreoverIn contrastAnd evenAdmittedlyPartly becauseAnd partly becauseYet it must be said.
Even more significantly, perhapsIn other wordsWith and with,Whichever wayOne thing is clearBeyond the shadow of a doubt.
Statesmen, by W.H. Auden
When statesmen gravely say, “We must be realistic,” The chances are they’re weak and therefore pacifistic: But when they speak of Principles—look out—perhaps Their generals are already poring over maps.Rory EwinsHis wife called him near-paralytic;His mum and his dad, parasitic;His sister, a git;His vicar, a twit.He brings out the worst in a critic.
Plain murder, A.G. Prys-JonesI saw a wasp upon a wallAnd did not like his face at all:And so the creature had no timeTo wonder whether he liked mine.Mad Mullinix and Timothy, by Jonathan SwiftI fart with twenty ladies by;They call me beast, and what care I?.
The triumph of bullshit, by T.S. Eliot
Ladies, on whom my attentions have waitedIf you consider my merits are smallEtiolated, alembicated,Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,Impotent galamatiasAffected, possibly imitated,For Christ's sake stick it up your ass. Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculousAwkward insipid and horribly gauchePompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulousDull as the heart of an unbaked briocheFloundering versicles feebly versiculousOften attenuate, frequently crassAttempts at emotions that turn isiculous,For Christ's sake stick it up your ass. Ladies who think me unduly vociferousAmiable cabotin making a noiseThat people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us" -Ingenuous child with a box of new toysToy lions carnivorous, cannons fumiferousEngines vaporous - all this will pass;Quite innocent - "he only wants to make shiver us."For Christ's sake stick it up your ass. And when thyself with silver foot shalt passAmong the Theories scattered on the grassTake up my good intentions with the restAnd then for Christ's sake stick them up your ass.may i feel said he, by E E Cummings
may i feel said he(i'll squeal said shejust once said he)it's fun said she(may i touch said hehow much said shea lot said he)why not said she(let's go said henot too far said shewhat's too far said hewhere you are said she)may i stay said he(which way said shelike this said heif you kiss said shemay i move said heis it love said she)if you're willing said he(but you're killing said shebut it's life said hebut your wife said shenow said he)ow said she(tiptop said hedon't stop said sheoh no said he)go slow said she(cccome?said heummm said she)you're divine!said he(you are Mine said she)
Garrison Keillor
Somebody said that it couldn't be done but he with a smile replied That maybe it couldn't but he would be one who wouldn't say so till he tried. So he buckled right in with a bit of a grinAnd his screwdriver touched a live wire,And he let out a cry and proceeded to dieIn a shower of sparks and fire.And the people who gave the eulogySpoke of honour and love and ambition.They spoke well of the dead, and nobody said,"Why didn't he call an electrician?"
Sign in a dentist office's toilet, Perth, UK
The law of the jungle, by Rudyard Kipling
Now this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back —For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare thee to a cup of joe? Thou art more tastey and more temperate; Rough winds may chill my cup and cause me woe; Or some fool may have put decaf in it. Sometimes too hot a cup of coffee pours,And often bitter and acidic swill;And, too, one must worry when out of doors, By chance he may his morning java spill. But thy eternal beauty shall not fade,Nor disappoint me with flavor vapid;Forever will I drink the mud that you have made, And always shall make mine heart be rapid.So long as mouths can drink, or eyes can see, So long lives this----I raise my mug to thee.** Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou owest;Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou growest:So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,So long lives this and this gives life to thee. -- William Shakespeare
Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe."Beware the Jabberwock, my son!The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!Beware the Jubjub bird, and shunThe frumious Bandersnatch!"He took his vorpal sword in hand:Long time the manxome foe he sought--So rested he by the Tumtum tree,And stood awhile in thought.And, as in uffish thought he stood,The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,And burbled as it came!One two! One two! And through and throughThe vorpal blade went snicker-snack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back."And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?Come to my arms, my beamish boy!O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"He chortled in his joy.'Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe.