I Don't Think Auden Liked My Poetry

The World Is Come Upon Me, I Used To Keep It A Long Way Off, But Now I Have Been Run Over And I Am In The Hands Of The Hospital Staff.

This Englishwoman Is So Refined, She Has No Bosom And No Behind.

Why Does My Muse Only Speak When She Is Uhnhappy? She Does Not, I Only Listen When I Am Unhappy.

Marriage I Think For Women Is The Best Of Opiates. It Kills The Thoughts That Think About The Thoughts, It Is The Best Of Opiates. So Said Maria. But Too Long In Solitude She'd Dwelt, And Too Long Her Thoughts Had Felt Their Strength. So When The Man Drew Near, Out Popped Her Thoughts And Covered Him With Fear. Poor Maria! Better That She Had Kept Her Thoughts On A Chain, For Now She's Alone Again And All In Pain; She Sighs For The Man That Went And The Thoughts That Stay To Trouble Her Dreams By Night And Her Dreams By Day.

Cry Pretty, Pretty, Pretty And You'll Be Able Very Soon Not Even To Cry Pretty And So Be Delivered Entirely From Humanity This Is Prettiest Of All, It Is Very Pretty.