Domestic Bliss Report

Motherhood is hard work. If we don't stick together, we'll all fall apart.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


Spread-eagled like old hookers in the sack,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge
Till on the smoky bars we turned our backs
And toward some stranger's bed began to trudge.
We screwed asleep. Many had lost the thrill
But screwed on, a fraud. All went numb, all blind,
Drunk with fatigue, deaf even to the kill
of deadly HIV he left behind.

Sex! SEX! Quick, girls! An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting on the clumsy condoms just in time.
But someone was still holding out and waiting
And looking afraid she'd run out of time.
Dim, through the drunken haze and culture lies,
Another girl like me, I saw her drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
She plunges from me, smothering, choking, drowning.

If in some college dorm room you too could pace
Behind the student that was taken in
And watch the salt tears rolling down her face,
Her hopeful face, dreaming that she'd hear from him
If you could hear at every jolt the blood
Come gargling from the fun-corrupted wombs
Of us deceived, our babies less than mud
Our bodies scarred, small secrets taken to our tombs
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To women ardent for some interesting story
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
pro voluptate mori.

With acknowledgement to the late Wilfred Owen



At 7:40 AM, Anonymous Nicholas said...

One small nitpick: pro takes the ablative, and voluptas is third declension, so it should be pro {voluptate | voluptatibus} mori, depending on whether you want {singular | plural}. (I think that elision will allow the meter to work as well with voluptate.)

Nitpicks aside, this is perhaps the most insightful and skilled serious parody (in the technical sense) I've ever seen. Well done.

At 8:17 AM, Blogger Heather said...

I knew someone with real experience with Latin would speak up! Correction pending...
Thank you for both your Latin help and your compliment to the post itself.

At 9:36 AM, Anonymous Kheldar said...

Regarding the original poem, I prefer Patton over Jessie Pope (who Owen was opposing in this poem):

"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."

Pardon the language, but Patton was a rather blunt-spoken man.

But you're's disgusting how the goal of pleasure overrides any inhibition against promoting activities that lead to death. Too many people just don't recognize that hedonism ends poorly.

At 12:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Heather, that is brilliant.
- Dean from NZ


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