There's no one quite like Lizzy
And I'm sure you will agree
She really keeps you busy
Though she thinks she is a tree
And one day when we're madder
We'll look back and say
There's no one quite like Lizzy
She's crazier than she was today.
Bin icon to click dustbin sonnet.
Arthur, hero of our fragmented tale,
Midst signs heterodox and garrulous
Articulation always perilous,
O'er nonsense seemed unlikely to prevail.
The word ever plural, duplicitous,
Betrayed him still in many a hopeful seeming
Left him to wail "Where did I put my meaning?"
Whilst offering others, quite solicitous,
Insistent in despite of his intent.
Resourceful chap, and innovative yet
New forms did he discover or invent
To curb the implicit connotative that
Deprived him constantly of what he meant
Frail hope! Form, self-referring, is content.
{dustbin icon, mouse pointer, and message box}
Click dustbin icon to bin sonnet. [OK]
There's no one quite like Derrida
And I'm sure you will agree
He's old enough to be a grandpa
But he keeps trying to write philosophy
There's no one quite like grandma
Don't let a bad word be said
Yet she's been seeming ever calmer
Which isn't surprising 'cos she's dead.
Mr Jebbly Wally. Esquisho ££@{fish}
a) This sentence is not self-enacting, but no wait a minute! Yes it is!
b) This sentence contradicts itself — except — no it doesn't!
c) This gubblick contains several non-sklarkish English flutzpahs, but the overfall pluggandisp can be glorked from context.
"So what is the pluggandisp of pluggandisp?" (Saussure). [sosýR]
"Horrible hell-mangles!" screamed Arthur. "What's happen-ping?"
"Sum-text is fleebing my avocado and cauliflower dip." His mind was afflicted by words for which no concepts had yet proved necessary. "Rampant referents! For God's sake don't think!" But it was too late. With a small armadillo, God appeared. The armadillo was called Matthew Aristotle. But this was only important to him, and when. And whatsoever.
OR HERE! ORE HEAR! AWE HAIR!
