Worst Poem In The World?

Cherish the woman in your life: she's worth it!

Another Modest Proposal,
By Jacob Bauthumley.
(Inspired by reading The Whole Woman, by Germaine Greer.)
A Greenpeace benefit poem.

“Woman is not placed on earth for the use of man any more than men are placed on earth for the use of women. Both could do without each other if it were not for the pesky business of sexual reproduction,” The Whole Woman, pp. 85-86.

1. The Devil Has the Best Lines: A Satire.

(Verse memo to CAW (t o t a l): Campaign Against Women (talking of their abolition long-term)).

Tomorrow I shall buy a womb
And probably a pair of tits,
But keep my little dangly bits
Which a surgeon could dismember and again attach
Near my tissue typed and lovingly assembled snatch.

With treasures of the genitalia spliced and grafted,
And Pleasure’s royal regalia twiced and crafted,
I’d boil and shake in the thrall of being self-shafted,
I’d toil to make a small ejaculate injection…

Through a skilful digital perambulation
My member gets the needed stimulation,
And when my uterine implant parts
Suck up Sam Sperm as out he spurts,
I’d thank hormonal manipulation
And genetic prestidigitation
For conceiving life sans copulation.

And in my thirty fertile years or more
I’d make bi-gendered babies by the score,
Who at the tender age of three or four
Would join the nurseries of Nanny State,
Where they’ll become productive drones,
Like good sheep Dolly of Britpop Clones,
And announce them as the Master Race,
The gay young Gods of Old Disgrace,
Blue eyed blond and smiling beauties,
Ethics-free and eager, for their duties

I’d apprehend the art of Tantra,
By self-fellating to a mantra,
Or could cunnilingus offer answers,
For techno tarts and gender chancers?
And sex for one is soothing for the soul,
As in extremity I near the goal
That, put succinctly, looks like this,
A self-consuming and entropic bliss.

But we’re getting off the point a bit,
So I’ll roll a joint and have a shit,
And ponder my troublesome existence
My need for courage and persistence,
As a lone self-replicant gender tart,
A solitary supplicant from the start.

And I’ll sing of a future intersexual,
And the daring struggle intellectual
To protect our lambent ambisexual, me,
From those stuck up their heterosexual tree,
And help us all to be truly tender
To a broody new agenda bender.

In my now uncertain gender state,
I would not need a cherished mate,
I’d say goodbye to all that hate
Feminist wimmin call misogyny,
By only giving birth to clones of me
And saying no to female progeny.
So if you hate your wife or sister,
Treat her as you would a blister.
We’ve no more need of the female heart,
For we’ve a brave new world to start.
Let’s thank Science for Biotechnology,
The chance to fuck with our own biology,
As wanting wisdom, short on soul,
Men, like brood mares, start to foal.

For I’d only be the first in line,
Of ten million fertile freaks in time;
And, it’s very plain to see,
That by and by there’d be
A patriarchal revolution,
A kindly and complete solution,
Autarchic Aryan sexuality,
To female values and reality,
To the stifling nuclear family,
And, what most of all incenses,
The Cool Britannia Blair consensus.

I’ll start a limited company
Called Uterine Rentals, plc,
And brothers, I’m male too, I feel your pain;
So I’d give us room and I’d give us rein
By granting our wish for a woman’s womb
And we’d bear life, sweet life before the tomb
(We’d pluck them from the young and poor for free:
The profit margin would be excellent, you see).

So why not staunch an occult bleeding,
Relieve a sense of doom that’s creeping
From something wanted we are needing,
And end this craving quite unsleeping
For this lovely little organ
That makes of us a rampant Gorgon,
Green with envy, fear and hate,
Wanting to command and dominate
In our rapacious Masculinity,
And quite unable, really, to relate
To blameless, subject Femininity?

And why not jump at this great chance
To join the beauty of life’s dance:
Our gay young Gods shall take their stance,
Supplant the girls and be the Future’s lance.

With acknowledgements to John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680).

2. Vision’s Protest, Visions of Delight.

Germaine, you have inspired me this time once again;
I recall how much I liked the Female Eunuch’s brain,
And came out on women’s demos: what a gravy train!

(Though that’s an empty boast: they’d’ve had my balls on toast).
I’m older now, like you, less groovy, more restrained,
For years fall just like leaves in autumn when it’s rained.

Your Whole Woman’s welcome in my imagination;
But has she got a lot to do with my own liberation?
And how should we as men with women make our peace,
When all the written records speak of Rape’s increase?

Rape’s a metaphor for how we treat our old and poor,
The way we connect with 1Gaia and the Natural Law,
With women’s bodies in men’s mags at the local store,
Loaded, GQ, FHM: and these are only softcore.

I’d blow their bloody printers up and those of many more,
For all say “You can have me how you want me: fuck me, please,
But who I am’s not your affair, for I’m just here to tease.”
And they all encourage men to prey on and go stalking
Every woman on her own or just out solo walking.

And the Internet’s live porn shows Capital’s capacity
To globalise and cultivate rabid Rape’s rapacity,
Sexualising Woman but disdaining her veracity,
While I just long for Rape to stop and feel real vivacity.

Thanks Germaine, it seems you help me feel.
I now regain my pen to write
My dreams of how as men we heal:
The theme’s discerning dawn in night.

For now my Dark Side’s sung his paean
He knows he sang to highlight this:
That we as men must marry bliss,
Reclaim our power as beings spiritual
As we inhabit habits inhabitual.

We’ll know ourselves anew through myth and ritual,
And by these means restore bereft and broken parts
Into a living whole, now deft in the auspicious arts
Of cherishing the inner reaches of our unheard heart,
The shore where either Love’s bark beaches, or we angry smart.

And every man who does this work gives back in kind
The love that since the womb he’s had from Woman’s mind.

We’ll live to let in the light of inspiration,
Spreading joy enough to satisfy a nation,
Embracing life again while forsaking the terrain
Of dealing domination to what we can’t enchain,
And treasuring the flame ignited in the soul
By pleasuring our body’s 2Fiery Flying Roll.

But for this, in women we would quest
By searching, searching without rest,
Down the golden beach of womankind
For a lifelong love we live to find,
Instead of seeing true, as through a blind,
By diving deep beneath the conscious mind
To meet the inner Christ of our Divinity,
Who treats and heals the Wound of Masculinity.

Then shall we cease to lay our projected blame
At women’s feet, or call it by another name.

Without this healing how can we stand in Gaia’s sight?
For in the natural world we are poised to forfeit all delight,
As our hurt in turn wounds Nature; so all of it we blight,
And absent is the gleam of Eden where once we saw the Light.

We’ll object to all the arts of secrecy and death,
From atom breeders to the genome shibboleth,
(And here I weep for Gaia’s pain as I draw breath),
And men of science shall speak of Hubris as they fall,
As one by one they heed a more authentic call,
And life-denying patriarchy starts to crumble,
As those who live in grace begin to rumble
An awakening of the heart that will midwife
The healing of all separation and all strife.

For the 3master’s method is the method of the knife:
His riddling intellect is murdering to dissect,
And he feels not love for 4that which gives us life.

So here’s the cause of all my poem’s fuss;
We have a choice. The two extremes are thus:
Either a peaceful, green and loving revolution,
And lives lived in the light of understanding
The 5voice that’s never there for reprimanding,
A remembering, in 6William’s words of sense,
That everything that lives is Holy Innocence:

Or else another, 7nightmare evolution,
A cold and gruesome male ablution,
Perceiving 8Woman as pollution,
An ethnic gender cleansing
Is a thinkable solution,
But my sisters cannot then sing.
Dear Goddess, I must allow the future’s cfemale,
Now please show me how, and let me know by E-mail.

b“La Femme est l’avenir de l’Homme”, Louis Aragon, poet, Communist and member of the Resistance.
Notes
1. Gaia, the Earth Goddess, who is addressed in the penultimate line. See the pioneering works on Gaian theory by the maverick British scientist Dr. James Lovelock, A New Look at Life on Earth and The Ages of Gaia.

2. See A Fiery Flying Roll, by Abiezer Coppe, a Ranter prophet (flourished c.1645-1655). This passage also refers to the re-eroticisation of the male body. To quote Germaine Greer, Women must humanise the penis, take the steel out of it and make it flesh again. But, pace Germaine, this is primarily the work of those who own a penis. It is up to us as men to dissociate our sexuality from the Archetype of Rape.

The Ranters were the Libertarian Left of the English Revolution, who preached naked, believed all should be held in common (including women), and were therefore opposed to marriage and private property.
They enjoyed, it is said, the pleasures of profane language, ale and lovemaking in public, abolished Sin as a theological concept, and believed that the only True Church was the human body itself. William Blake shared both their healthy and their sexist attitudes, as well as their revolutionary reading of the Bible. The Everlasting Gospel (c.1818) links Blake both to the Ranters and the older, underground tradition of Gnosis. See The Gnostics by Tobias Churton.

3. The master’s method: Masculine Science and Philosophy since Ancient Greece, but especially since 1600, featuring the domination and control of Woman and Nature, the repression of the body and sexuality, the evacuation of the Sacred from everyday life, the fragmentation of scientific disciplines into subject areas, the persecution of witches and women healers, dualistic thinking, subject-object thinking, Left Brain dominance, and the triumph of logic and reason over intuition and
spiritual connection. We need a balance between the two, and a Divina Sciencia which acknowledges the sacred ground of being and reflects a cooperative, rather than a manipulative attitude towards Nature. The earliest extant literary epic, Gilgamesh (Mesopotamia, c. 2000 B.C.) speaks of a radically different relationship to the Sacred,  as well as to Nature, to that of our age.

4. That which gives us life: a threefold meaning – the uterus, our mother and mother Nature.

5. Voice that’s never there for reprimanding: i.e. the unjudging inner voice of intuition, our Spirit.

6. William’s words of sense: William Blake (1757-1827): For Everything that Lives is Holy, from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1793). Blake could almost have been speaking of Biotechnology.

7. Nightmare evolution: The biological essentialist’s dystopian dream of the abolition of the role of the human female in reproduction, biotechnology having rendered her obsolescent. There is already talk of enabling men to carry a human foetus to term. My verses just go one step further.

8. Woman as Pollution: a view held by Gautama the Buddha, Paul the Apostle and St. Augustine, among others. Prevalent in all patriarchal religious belief systems and used to control, restrain and culpabilise female sexuality. The word for the sexual organs of both genders, Pudendum, comes from the Latin verb meaning “I am ashamed”.

By Jacob Bauthumley, 16th March-24th May 2000.

Author’s Signature and Date

Signed Copy No.__

References/Further Reading

Science and Sexual Oppression: Patriarchy’s Confrontation with Woman and Nature, by Brian Easlea (Weidenfield and Nicholson, 1981), an outstanding piece of research and beautifully written.

Fathering the Unthinkable: Masculinity, Scientists and the Nuclear Arms Race, by Brian Easlea (Pluto Press, 1983).

Lewd women & wicked witches: A Study of the Dynamics of Male Domination, by Marianne Hester (Routledge, 1992).

Breaking the Boundaries: Towards a Feminist Green Socialism, by Mary Mellor (Virago, 1992), who critiques the murderous global economy and shows the way to a woman centred, humane and sustainable socialist alternative.

The Gaia Atlas of Planet Management, editor Norman Myers, foreword by David Bellamy (1985).

A New Look at Life on Earth, and The Ages of Gaia, by Dr. James Lovelock.

The Whole Woman, by Germaine Greer (Anchor,1999), and The Female Eunuch.

Women’s Reality: An emerging female system in a white male society, by Anne Wilson Schaef (Harper Collins Publishers, 1981).

Iron John, by poet Robert Bly, is excellent for describing the sense of hurt and loss in men, father-son relationships, the initiations of masculinity, and the lost generation of “soft”, pro-feminist men, and less good on ways out of the impasse exemplified by magazines like Loaded. But that’s up to us!

Any edition of the Collected Poems of William Blake, especially the late work, The Everlasting Gospel (circa 1818), a clear example of Blake’s Gnosticism.

The Gospel of St. Thomas in particular and the Nag Hammadi manuscripts in general.

The Gospel of The Essenes, edited by Edmund Szekely.

The Gnostics, by Tobias Churton.

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About jacobbauthumley

Just another Ranter in the blogosphere, based in the East of England in the UK. Interests literature and poetry, poets, communism and communalism, socialism, the destiny of humankind, the Ranter folk in the English revolution (one of their writers was called Jacob Bauthumley: click on About and you'll find a piece on Ranter beliefs, with a quotation from Bauthumley himself), the Green Party, philosophy, ethics, science fiction, the novel, France, Norfolk, global warming, humour, music, and survival. "We must love one another or die": W H Auden, in the poem 1st September 1939.
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2 Responses to Worst Poem In The World?

  1. Loved the notes, very informative on understanding the influence of your sources on your thinking. Hated the poem, not too interested in reading others ‘dirty laundry’ about others hang-ups on sex, who would be ?

  2. You are entitled to hate it of course. Some women loved it, which surprised me. But those women got it that the feminism, the appreciation of women, was real, and told me so. The second half is better than the first. The first half is vile, deliberately so, but it’s not a poem about sexuality at all, and it’s not even personal, ‘though I wrote it in the first person. That is a misapprehension on your part, in my humble opinion. It’s nothing to do with “washing dirty laundry”, and it was never intended as such. Of course, I was angry, but that was in the background.

    It is a protest poem about technocratic fascism, scientific hubris, and the moral and ethical limits of messing around with human gender and the reproductive system, cloning and the like. It’s also about the split between the sacred (woman’s body) and the profane (the dissecting knife of male dominated science). It’s a satire, too, and that’s why the tone is savage, as Swiftian as I could manage, which is not very, about Man playing at being God, scientific hubris. It’s about horror at the lack of God in the scientific attitude: “we can do anything, and we shall”, even steal wombs from women and implant them into men (if such a thing were possible, which it’s not, fortunately).

    Dean Swift was a very great English moralist, perhaps the greatest. I had him in mind when I wrote the poem. Now the bods in white coats think they can synthesize life itself, and claim to have done it in a laboratory, while Stephen Hawkins denies God.

    Right up your street I would have thought. But you are entitled to hate the poem and not see all that. It’s not just in the notes. I performed it around Norwich and it went down well, especially in the Norwich Arts Centre, where I sold quite a few copies. One local poet came up to me afterwards and compared my poem to a satire by John Dryden, Absalom and Architophel. I’ve never found Dryden very readable…

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