Written after a visit to the art gallery
Naked I sleep, and naked I rise;
Naked I eat my toast;
Naked I look through a journal or book,
Naked I fetch the bills in the post.
Nakedly nakedly nakedly naked
Nakedly nakedly nake.
I stride, nakedly, through scenes allegorical,
Nakedly strumming my lute;
I relax nakedly on the stream in my coracle,
Nakedly playing my flute.
Nakedly nakedly nakedly naked
Nakedly nakedly nake.
Naked I lead the troops into war!
Nakedly naked I am in defeat;
And sometimes, for no reason at all, I walk naked
Through the non-naked crowds in the street
Nakedly nakedly nakedly naked
Nakedly nakedly nake.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
- John Bangsund's Threepenny Planet
- Broken Biro
- Poetry 24
- Superlative scribbles
- Kirstyn McD!
- Rorrim a tsomla almost a mirror
- More Sterne
- Sterne
- Cam the man from the Dan.
- Too hot to Raaaaaaandallllllll!
- Erin's Excellently Everlasting Effervescements!
- Slammy Infamy
- Hail Paco!
- Baron Blandwagon, purveyor of cyberbunnies, hawker of Roger Corman, and Misruler of the Multiverse
- The Bolta. Aiyeeeeee!!!!!
- Bad Apple Audrey
- The cartoon church
- Sir Martinkus
- A Zemblanian abroad and at home
- A hodge podge of hotzeplotz
- THE SLAMMA!
- Jottlesby's nottings, or should that be Nottlesby's jottings?
- The Snarking of the Hunt
- Jazzy Hands
- David of Metal City
- David the Barista
- The Blogger on the Cast Iron Balcony
- Be an Opinion Dominion Minion!
- Mel...
- ... and Fel
- His brilliant career - from whale sushi to crumbed prawn
- Jo Blogs
- Yet another Tim
- Croucherisms...
- Was two peas, now three peas
- Desciopolous!
- ... Still Life - now with extra rotating cats!
- Erin...
- An Amazingly Awesome Australian Ampersand!
- Blink and you'll miss 'er
- Red in the land of the tigers!
- Wire of Vibe
- Chase him, ladies, he's in the cavalry!
- The Non-palindromical Editrix in Germanium
- Old Sterne
- Gempiricalisations
- TonyT
- The briefs...
- ... and the brieflets
- The Purple Blog
- Blairville, lair of all that is wicked and perfidious
- The enticingly acronymical CSH
- EXTREEEEEEEME WYNTER!
- Mark of California
- Jellyfish
- Silent Speaking
- Lexicon the Mexican
Blog Archive
-
▼
2007
(392)
-
▼
September
(32)
- WTFF Classifieds
- Rhyming couplets with unlikely words
- Do you prefer footbrawl or thugby?
- Consonant cravings
- Crypto Fascism
- I go mad with power
- Caution: this jar may contain traces of mastodons
- Review
- Watch out! That bustle is out to get you!
- Our new anti-Donald workplace policy
- It's propaganda, dammit!
- The nude in art and the art in the nude
- The great Australian brain shortage
- The goyim does not know...
- How to read backwards, upside down, standing on yo...
- Idea for mystery novel
- Hello, goodbye, hello
- Convenience caused
- An application for the position of John Laws
- Belloc, the game show
- Robert Herrick, goth poet
- The archeology of the species
- A blogger dies
- Self-yelp books
- Consumerism is evil! Here, have a newspaper.
- Precisamundly
- This rental life
- My life, so much better than mycosis
- Gnuts to ewe!
- Just keep Dexter the bloody friendly robot out of ...
- Disgracing you with his presence
- History Segment! (Again)!
-
▼
September
(32)
25 comments:
Not enough people do things naked. Or, at least, they don't do enough things naked. I can understand that in a place like Melbourne nudity, or taking off one's clothes at all,is probably seldom practiced. Such a shame.
P.S. Naked war sounds like fun.
Yep.
Oh, and Melbournians made up for it somewhat when professional fraud - ahem, sorry, conceptual artist Spencer Tunick visited us a few years ago.
Yeah thanks, Tim, I wanted to look at tits. Not quite the image I had in my mind's eye - I much prefer mine.
You have an incredible memory for your previous posts.
She's only topless, not naked.
The painting, that is, not Nails.
Although, Nails could easily be topless or naked, how the hell would I know?
It's rather cold here today, so neither topless nor naked anywhere else.
Terrible risk of sunburn.
It's an artistic representation of Liberty, so I think she's acting like a libertine.
One of the captions to a painting I saw yesterday was interesting. The painting in question was some early-Christian story about Christians being tied up in chains before being fed to the lions in the arena. Anyway, the picture had two Christians - naked, in chains - lying on the floor of a gaol cell. The caption read:
"Naked women in chains was a subject which held a peculiar fascination for ___ ____ and he returned to it repeatedly durng his career."
I wonder why that could be?
This artist would have made an excellent artist for the Conan the Barbarian books.
This artist would have made an excellent artist
Not one of my best sentences!
This poem should be on the syllabus for year 10 English.
God knows what they'd make of lines like 'nakedly playing my flute'...!
Probably what the rest of us did.
I suppose it depends whether it was a transverse or a fipple flute.
I really don't think it would matter.
Sir Thomas Beecham once said of a rather poor regional cellist from Brisbane:
"My dear. You have between your legs an instrument that can bring joy to millions of people. Yet all you can do is sit there and scratch it."
Sir Thomas Beecham, evidently a model of tact!
Oh, and also, Sir Eugene Goossens, who for a while conducted Australian orchestras, once got barred from this country for carrying some porn mags with him. Caused a big scandal at the time, apparently.
11.22 would change things somewhat.
Keep in mind that we are a country that banned Lady Chatterley - not for the appalling writing but for the appalling sex scenes.
A bit off topic, except it does have to do with nakedness, I was surprised to read this in Slate's "Explainer" section last week, in answer to the question as to whether it is a bad idea for parents to let their kids see them naked:
"Chances are good that a 2- or 3-year-old won't form any lasting memories of seeing his parents in their birthday suits.
Seeing your parents au naturel can be confusing for older kids who are more curious about bodies and sexuality. A child might wonder why a parent's genitals look different from his own; he might feel inferior by comparison, or jealous; and he might be a bit frightened of the size and hair. Too much exposure might also overstimulate a child, stirring up sexual excitement along with Oedipal anxiety."
I don't think whoever wrote this has an appreciation of just how America-centric it is. Generations of Japanese and Scandinavian kids have not had Oedipal anxiety by seeing their parents' pubic hair or penis.
I think the nudism movement in the West is pretty weird, with its idea that you can sensibly be naked all day; and it is not as separated from sex as its proponents proclaim.
The Japanese and Scandinavians, on the other hand, do genuinely have a way of separating nakedness from sex that seems quite healthy.
Anyone for a Japanese or Scandinavian raw fish banquet sans vestments?
Mish: I agree. I will place this commendable lyric ballad on the syllabus for next year.
The slogan for a certain Balmain (Syd) gym is "Look Better Naked". I haven't taken them up on this yet, but it has worked for my fellow flute-playing, throat-singing chained-up Kung Fu fighter.
Oh dear. I don't think any of my neuroses or possible fetishes have anything to do with my parents' fondness for hanging [literally, age is an awful thing] about sans clothing. Nor do I ever recall being jealous of either my mother's or my father's bits. One learns quickly to look people in the eye when speaking to them but that's about it.
In case you wondered, the reason my parents maintianed their nude habits beyond their children's infancy [aside from enjoyig being naked] is because my terribly rational father was concerned that we would develop complexes if what was once normal suddenly ceased to be okay.
As if kids would care if they see their parents naked! What a question to ask!
I's one thing at two, quite another as a teenager when you have to make sure that your parents are clothed before your friends can come into the house...
I do hate the phrase 'birthday suit'. So prudish.
It's clever, but. There's an A D Hope poem that ends with the line 'As first a poet buttoned on his skin'.
Post a Comment