#AmericanWriters
Candy Is dandy, But liquor Is quicker
Tell me, O Octopus, I begs Is those things arms, or is they l… I marvel at thee, Octopus; If I were thou, I’d call me Us.
Higgledy piggledy, my black hen, She lays eggs for gentlemen. Gentlemen come every day To count what my black hen doth la… If perchance she lays too many,
People who have what they want are… And I wish I could afford to gath… I dont’ mind their having a lot of… But I do think that they damn wel… But no, they insist on being steal…
Some people, and it doesn’t matter whether they are paupers or millionaires, Think that anything they have is the best in the world just because it is theirs. If they happen to own a ...
Children aren’t happy with nothing… And that’s what parents were creat…
O all ye exorcizers come and exorcize now, and ye clergymen draw nigh and clerge, For I wish to be purged of an urge. It is an irksome urge, compounded of nettles and glue, And it is...
The hands of the clock were reachi… In an old midtown hotel; I name no name, but its sordid fam… Is table talk in hell. I name no name, but hell’s own fla…
Behold the duck. It does not cluck. A cluck it lacks. It quacks. It is specially fond
One would be in less danger From the wiles of a stranger If one’s own kin and kith Were more fun to be with.
Belinda lived in a little white ho… With a little black kitten and a l… And a little yellow dog and a litt… And a realio, trulio, little pet d… Now the name of the little black k…
The ant has made himself illustrio… Through constant industry industri… So what? Would you be calm and placid, If you were full of formic acid?
I’ve never seen an abominable snow… I’m hoping not to see one, I’m also hoping, if I do, That it will be a wee one.
There is a knocking in the skull, An endless silent shout Of something beating on a wall, And crying, “Let me out!” That solitary prisoner
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn; So many I loved were not yet dead… So many I love were not yet born.