the cunt,

containing curse and origin,

alive within a Twelfth Night letter from Olivia

and Hamlet's country matters,

the Dead Sea of Ulysses,

Penguin prosecutions, unsuccessful,

and the trump cards of tender Beckett wives.


In monologues and myth making,

displayed on Venus figurines,

in Dinner Party paintings,

Courbet's fevered inspiration;

sacred, praised in Bridal Hymns,

Hindu yoni,

sheela na gigs

and Leonard Cohen's alpha and omega.


Consider art and architecture,

literature and sculpture.

Consider sin and censorship

and interdicted culture.

Consider birth, consider sex,

consider our existence,

and ponder

on the power

of the





◄ Not Doris Day's Armpits

Subjects of Denial ►


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Laura Taylor

Mon 9th Apr 2018 10:18

Thanks so much Hannah and Ray - lovely lovely feedback, thank you for actually seeing what I wrote.

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Sun 8th Apr 2018 21:15

To truly appreciate your message is to cast aside whole generations of men with their prejudices and brainwashing, which has given them the power to distort the wonderful mystery of creation inherent in the most hidden and vulnerable part of a woman. To be called a cunt is to spearhead the whole story. We know there are female connotations that apply to the penis too in its way, and male drives associated with the cunt too. So lets try to come to terms and live a more equal life, such as I think you amply demonstrate Laura.
I entirely see your drift here, so well written !


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Hannah Collins

Sun 8th Apr 2018 17:42

It makes the world go round.
Strong imagery, ideas.
Brilliant piece.


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Laura Taylor

Sun 8th Apr 2018 13:18

5th poem for NaPoWriMo 2018. A spot of cultural history contemplations.

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