[John Whitworth]

You know I'm not greatly taken with this. Too overworked somehow. But here it is to get the ball rolling. I think I'll try again.

Gob and Bum

‘I’m his forever. He’s all mouth,’
My gob roars out. But further south,
‘I always knew that he would come
To his true friend,’ confides my bum.

My mush says, ‘It is always wise
To take long bouts of exercise.’
‘Much better lounge in comfort here,’
Insists my large, persuasive rear.

My cakehole shrieks at fever pitch
‘Take to the streets and hang the rich.’
My bottom mutters covertly
‘Sit tight old chap, and let it be.’

‘Which of us represents this man?’
‘Can we be reconciled?’ ‘We can.’
‘It has already come to pass.’
‘He talks,’ ‘Ah yes,’ ‘Out of his arse.’

Villon yes. And Marvell of course. These guys are a bit too disconcertingly GOOD.

[Orwn Acra]

John, that's really funny.

(Slightly overworked? A skosh, perhaps.)

[John Whitworth]

Why thank you, Orwn. Perhaps it's better than I thought. I composed it, as usual, in the swimming path, but hadn't taken on board that the thing was supposed to be a dialogue. So there had to be a lot of fixing and patching which rather pissed me off. (I believe the American for this is 'which rather pissed me'.)

I've done another one but I shall hold on to it at present.

Oh to Hell with it. No-one else is doing anything. Is it the weekend coming up?

Eyes and Ears

Behold my lady, fair and good,
The perfect flower of womanhood.
My admiration knows no bounds
Until she makes those vowel sounds.

She is a vision of such joy
She could command another Troy.
Her teeth and smiles may both be tops,
But have you heard her glottal stops?

And should you see her in her nightie,
She is a very Aphrodite…
Who takes the tongue that Shakespeare spoke
And warps it to a vulgar joke.

And in her naked skin so sweet
The angels crowd to kiss her feet.
Her mouth indeed is cherry-lipped,
But can she swear to keep it zipped?

[Marion Shore]

John,
They're both good! I've got my money on the first one! The last line alone is worth an extra fiver, IMNSHO.

[John Whitworth]

Thanks Marion. I shall enter both. Just a little work on that last stanza. I went to see my daughter the painter who had done a canvas of people (she usually does animals) which was curiously threatening. She said she had noticed that and thought she would go back to animals because she didn't WANT to do art that was threatening or left the onlooker uneasy. I thought she isn't for the 21st century which supposes all art should threaten or make you feel bad. I agree with her and Dorothy Sayers however. I think art's primary purpose is to cheer people up. Otherwise, what's the good of it, in the long run? And if you ask whether Philip Larkin cheers you up, I say he does, or at least he cheers ME up.

[Marion Shore]

I totally sympathize with your daughter. I would take it one step further: I would like to go and live with animals. As far as art cheering you up, even if it's about sad stuff, it makes you feel better because you know you're not the only on. Misery loves company.

[basil ransome-davies]

This is your superego calling,
Who finds your conduct quite appalling.
do da dirty do da sin
dump da pussy in da bin

To raise us from the primal swamp
We must curtail the instinct's romp.
why dont we do it in da road
up ya bum ya moral code

A sense of civic duty needs
To govern all our words and deeds.
when da neighbour make me sick
whack him with a great big stick

A man is not a mindless clam:
'I cogitate, therefore I am.'
you da boring fart dat reasons
me da id thing for all seasons