“To hinder the description of illness in literature, there is the poverty of the language. English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear, has no words for the shiver and the headache. It has all grown one way.”
“Yet it is not only a new language that we need, more primitive,
more sensual, more obscene but a new hierarchy of the passions;
love must be deposed in favor of a temperature of 104;
jealousy give place to the pangs of sciatica;
sleeplessness play the part of the villain,
and the hero becomes a white liquid with a sweet taste —
that mighty Prince with the moths’ eyes and the feathered feet,
one of whose names is Chloral.”
The Dancer and the Actress
Rhyming Couplet Ideas by jay
See the snorting of the dancer,
I think she’s angry at the lancer.
She finds it hard to see the poke,
Overshadowed by the cold masterstroke.
Who is that looking near the fun?
I think she’d like to eat the spray gun.
She is but a soft acting,
Admired as she sits
upon a subcontracting.
Her clucking car is just a regret,
It needs no gas,
it runs on anisette.
She’s not alone
she brings apologies,
a pet kangaroo,
and lots of chronologies.
The kangaroo likes to chase a hurt,
Especially one that’s in the pay dirt.
The dancer shudders
at the ornamental tickle
She wants to leave
but she wants the Pickell.