(no subject)

[pushyouaround.livejournal.com]

symptom recall by dorothy parker

i do not like my state of mind;
i'm bitter, querolous, unkind.
i hate my legs, i hate my hands,
i do not yearn for lovelier lands.
i dread the dawn's recurrent light;
i hate to go to bed at night.
i snoot at simple, earnest folk.
i cannot take the gentlest joke.
i find no peace in paint or type.
my world is but a lot of tripe.
i'm dissillusioned, empty-breasted.
for what i think, i'd be arrested.
i am not sick, i am ot well.
my quandom dreams are shot to hell.
my soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
i do not like me anymore.
i cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
ponder on the narrow house.
i shudder at the thought of men...
i'm due to fall in love again.

Comments

[pushyouaround.livejournal.com]

yeah. i realized that after i printed the poem out for myself. ugh. i actually copied and pasted it from the net...somebody else needs to learn how to spell and i need to learn how to spell check.

[enough-rope.livejournal.com]

excellent poem
that woman was great with words

[pushyouaround.livejournal.com]

goodness yes.