UK 1819
by Pursy 🐚y

An old, mad, blind, and dying King;
Counts, scum of a dull stock, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring;
Tyrants who do not touch nor do nor know,
But parasitic to this fainting country cling
Till dropping, blind in blood, without a blow.

if u run into God whilst walking and God's not carrying any books, don't fuck him.

valid taboo glyphs bassoon subconsciously

smdh at this too-gradschool intro. im, tho

as with "rip", "im" is an acronym, short for "it is I"

a computational graph's gloss of FLAD ROOM 

knit a trio chain around him
and shut your sight in holy fright
for is his food all opal fruits
and his drink that milk of gods

i wish oulipo would just allow that glyph and ban a, i, o, u for 1 month

whilst camping for six days i thought our world might transform in that duration, such that i would find it abnormal on again arriving, but on coming back find that singular, most fantastic, most shocking, transformation is found this particular location and its wilful viral obscurity! O, oulipo!

i said hark! what a thought!
i am, in my own way, also hungry
and all of us could find
an opportunity for growth
- walt whitman

Days start coming and don't stop coming--
And Custom wolfs Us down --
Our Running starts upon our Birth--
It's Rational to Clown.

Ozymandias! Look upon my plums, for I am Pagliacci.

if you play your groovy horn and always skip our taboo pitch, congrats: yr a saxual oulipian.

if, post-mutiny, this ship stalls and will not follow your commands, try disabling Cap's Lock

[as i drop my astropop in dirt and ants start crawling around on it] i am a man of constant sorrow

Show additional (Mark II) is a lipogrammatic Mastodon for all.
Ambigram by B. Morin, CC BY-SA 4.0