Tiresias was one of those filthy perves
Greeks found him irritating
For he used to get on people’s nerves
By watching them copulating
But it didn’t stop at people
Once, walking by the lakes
On his church was abruptly erected a steeple
When he saw a pair of snakes
Of course, he should have walked away
But old men can be awful
And his hand began to prod and play
(Even though it wasn’t lawful)
“What joys!” he said, with a giant smile,
“Oh love! Sweet, sweet l’amour – agh!”
For a search in his bag had revealed – how vile!
He’d forgotten the fucking camera!
“How horrid!” cried the sad old sage,
“How absolutely dreadful!
For these snakes are better than Bettie Paige
Or rent-boys by the bedful!”
Such bursts of terror at such foul luck!
They pierced his heart like a lance
Deep, deep was his woe, and he wailed, “Oh fuck!
There's a great steaming turd in me pants.”
For a moment he could distract his mind
By sniffing his robes with delight
But no excretions from his leaky behind
Could help him forget his sad plight
We can hardly blame him for being cross
The shock had broken his heart
So his wisdom shattered by the loss
He struck the snakes apart
Poor Tiresias’ blood ran cold
And his snake speedily deflated
“Oh ye gods!” he cried, “I’m senile and old,
I just wanted to be fellated.”
The gods were angry, as gods often are
And they took away his willy
And gave him some breasts and a lacy bra
Which made him look quite silly
For seven years he sat to piss
And worried about his belly
One week every month he gave sex a miss
And watched Oprah on the telly
Of course, though he sacrificed a lot
He could have multiple orgasms
But each time he saw a baby’s cot
His womb went into spasms
After seven years of dying his hair
And eating celery sticks
The gods came down to his spring-cleaned lair
And said that they’d had their kicks
“Good man, you can have your manhood back
If you toss the Instamatic,”
Said Zeus. Tiresias fell on his back
And cried, and was most dramatic.
“I understand,” the god replied,
And He played with his mighty crotch
“It’s the women, you see, on whom you’ve spied,
And the many men you’ve watched.”
“Is it so wrong,” he asked of Zeus
“To love all of your creation?”
The god’s face was coloured a shade of puce
As though he had constipation.
What became of Tiresias
A man whom the gods couldn’t answer?
Well, first his balls and his bowels fell out
And then he died of cancer.
****
Yet Tiresias, man amongst men
Remains in legend told
For he took his chances time and again
Despite being smelly and old
His last moments, spent with a camera
His semen still thick as turpentine
His dying words: “How I love sweet l’amour! Ah,
Especially if it’s serpentine!”
Author notes
Just for you, Edna.
A contest entry
- Snakes Named After Your Wife by Edna Sweetlove.
300 points, ended August 19, 2008, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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Or maybe:
"I've parked a steaming pony in my pants".
I'm thinking outside the box 'ere. -
I liked "rentboys by the bedful" - he should be so lucky - but who the **** is Betty Paige?
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We all like rentboys by the bedful, but some of us don't have the cash.
Perhaps I spelt her name wrong...oh, I did. She's 'Bettie Paige,' a dominatrix pin-up girl I felt would tickle Tiresias' pickle.
Ah, now steaming is a wonderful word just PERFECT for describing a nice ripe turd. (Ooh, that rhymed quite nicely.) I shall edit this poem now. I considered putting the Greek word for poo in, but it doesn't work, alas.
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This has its moments and shows a fine knowledge of Classical legend. There is some occasional seriously f*cking dodgy scansion (see l.24) but you know that anyway. I have no choice but to shortlist it.
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I think the seriously f*cking dodgy scansion adds to its cheer and charm. You should remember that I hail from Gloucester and most of us have toes on our hands and fingers up our mothers.
However, your point is duly noted and I can accept criticism with grace, you insensitive, elitist bastard.
In seriousness, I had no way of ending that stanza and thought a reference to faecal matter would be a safe bet! I may remove the verse as it serves no purpose. What do you think? -
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Elitist, moi? Jamais.
No: I just felt "I’ve gone and shat in my pants." would be punchier and more amusing as "I’ve gone and shat me (or my) pants.” (better scansion?]
or
"I’ve done a pony in my pants." (introduces unusual rhyming slang which a learned note might elucidate).
Just a suggestion, dear. -
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As I AM from Gloucester, or Glaaaaaaaaassster as the locals prefer, I think the former would be preferable, as it is rather in keeping with the way folks talk, if yer get wot oim sayin'?
Although I must say the pony is appealing...but wait! Aha, aha! An idea has struck me! -
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Lovely. A "steamer" is a fine old Gloucestershire word I believe.
e.g.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrhhhh, Ferk me, Mabel, Oi jes' dun a steamer in me pants, loik"
"Oi told 'ee not to eat that there 'amburger after 'e fell on the floor, loik."
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Ha! That's a very accurate representation of the locals...are you sure you aren't closer than you say?
Incidentally I must go into the town centre today and brave the tyranny of their irritating accents. Oh my!
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Clever
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Why thank you.
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