Wilfred & The Shell-Shocked

This is a corner for poetry, rap and almost any nonsense wot rhymes.

There once was a man called Batutta
who regularly travell’d the route A-
berdeen to Belize,
back & forth without cease
and whose feet were as keen as his hooter.

By: The Gorgon in her cups. 28/10/08

01/03/09 The Muse (not sure which one) visited me again last night. I was remembering how much I liked Cairo, where I spent three very happy weeks far, far too long ago. This came out. Sorry, Salim…

A sultan called Salim the Grim
Cut off his long hair on a whim
‘Forsooth!’ said his mother
Much less of a bother.
Next time you’ll need only a trim’

20/09/09 Whilst listening to some beeb soi-dissant pundit interviewing that man everybody (except me) seems to want to sleep with, these sad, sad days, this came into my head. Yes, I know…

A smart-alec  MP called Vince Cable
Of  the New and Improved Lib-Dem stable
Said: “With my wonderful grasp of finance
I will lead you such a merry dance
That your brains will spill over the table”

07/10/09. And here’s the latest blossom from  my garden of Hell. And I don’t give a toss, either,  if  folks don’t agree with it (or vice versa…)

Said a Hamas leader, one Khaled Meshal:
“I know our methods are not too halal.
But they could be much improved
if Netanyahu were removed
along with the Psychotic Cabal”

22/01/10 The Mad Muse Strikes Again (alas…) Semi-sincere apologies (for the massacre) and many thanks (for the “loan”) to Don Jose de Esproceda.

Con diez jamones por banda,
viento en popa, a toda mecha,
abre en el mar una brecha
un velero bergantin.
Bajel pirata que llaman,
por caradura, El Refusenik.
Desde Santurce hasta Grosznik
esparce pavor sin fin.

Next stanza…well not any time soon, mercifully.

14/11/10. Let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t “do” Poppy Day. End of story. But this year I feel like paying tribute to the guy who kindly lends part of his name to this page and who wrote one of the best anti-war poems ever. Wilfred, you have the floor, mate.

Boom-Boom & Rosie Present:

An Armistice Day Special For All The Dead Iraqis and Afghanis (And All The Other Chilangos And Undeserving Victims Of Illegal Wars) Whom Nobody Ever Bothers To Think About Let Alone Mourn


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 – March, 1918


The Muse strikes again! Sauve qui peut! Women and alligators first! Etc.

Last Friday I met a lovely lady who loves dogs in general and her doggie in particular. This is for her.

A Po’m for Piggy

I’d much rather have a Staffie
Than a colonel Gadhafi
Although I can’t say that NATO
‘s all that hot:
As censorious as a Cato
Anywhere it travels to, oh!
Goes to pot.
So just let me love a Staffie
And pronounce my heart a chaffy,
Silly clot.
03/02/13  . A wee po’m to go with one of my latest illustrations.

On the Road to Leng

On the raggedy highway to merry old Leng
I met a huge Shoggoth far fiercer than Geng-
his Khan, the famous barbarian.
Although not as ghastly as that creep, Dr. Meng-
ele, still no harmless fruitarian.
Nor a strict disciplinarian,
I’m happy to say;
unlike that notorious, inglorious old Deng
Xiaoping, who one day
had helpless young people shot at by the score
for milling around in a square and no more,
thus claiming his place in the Halls of High Gore.
“Where would you be going, young Gorgon?” said he
“Did you really fancy you could sneak in past me
without paying the toll?”
“O dearie me, sir Monster,” replied I with glee
“no way. Name your call!”
“We’ll let the dice roll…”
said the bulky beast.
“Come into my parlour, bold lassie, and have tea
and muffins. And feast
on gossip and stories and dreams and bad jokes
and pancake made of Shantak Bird egg-yolks.
We’ll sing and we’ll dance and behave like old rogues!”
So I did.

4 Responses to Wilfred & The Shell-Shocked

  1. francesca bertini says:

    Escribiría alguna cosa en plan literario, pero no se me ocurre nada, ni ahora ni nunca, lo siento.
    pero puedo criticar la tira todo lo que escriben los demás, ea !

    Acabo de leer : Mendez Alberto – Los Girasoles Ciegos, esplendido libro, no digo más, se ha de leer.
    Lastima y tristeza pero por 3 motivos:
    – las historias contadas seguro que NO superan la realidad
    – es el unico libro publicado por Alberto Mendez
    – Alberto Mendez…..se ha muerto hace unos años…..païs!

  2. Reg Webb says:

    A queen of the gorgans, Dolores,
    Put her trust in good wine and calories.
    When invited to diet,
    She said “will you be quiet”,
    I seek not life’s privations, but glories.

    • Dolores says:

      Reg, me dear, you’re a good man! I’m so thrilled by the fact that ANYONE at all has bothered to check this section of my site! And I do love your limmerick. In fact, I am a devoted limmerick fan myself. Me and my mate Mick, whenever we get together, spend hours of our valuable time (for life is so short, innit?) concocting some of the silliest examples of that much maligned genre. You bring much needed life to Wilfred and his chums. Do stay tuned and in touch. We silly, contrary people must stick together.
      I’ve had a quick shufti at your blog, but it was a very superficial one, as I’m totally poopped and my attention span’s beginning to desintegrate. But, like the Terminator,…I’ll be back.
      As for you being “visually challenged” (oh, that political correctness, that political correctness…), it doesn’t seem to stop you from being massively (and fiercely!) adventurous and appreciating stroppy Gorgon’s rants. Not many people do, don’t you know… But, how do you know I’m fat and that’s because I like me calories? You cunning devil!
      Be excellent!

  3. Reg Webb says:

    Thanks for being generous and funny.

    As to that poor blog of mine, I post too sporadically because people close to me keep sending me distracting and fascinating information, which I should use as something to blog about, rather than as an excuse for not doing it.

    Mea Maxima Culpa.
    A good Saturday to one and all.

    Oh and, as for “that political correctness”, this is an impulse to be resisted at all costs in my view. We shouldn’t need a user manual to tell us how to talk to one another. “Blind” is a good word, for someone like me addicted to poly-sylables. It’s just one sylable, and it describes me accurately, or an aspect of this particular Brit git anyway.

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