“Bawdy in thoughts, precise in words,Ill-natured though a whore,Her belly is a bag of turds,And her cunt a common shore.”
In this provocative quote by John Wilmot, he presents a crude and disrespectful portrayal of women. Through the use of coarse language and explicit imagery, Wilmot paints a derogatory picture of the female subject, reducing her to mere objects for sexual gratification. The harsh and degrading tone of the quote reflects a misogynistic attitude, perpetuating harmful stereotypes and objectification of women. This quote serves as a reminder of the importance of respecting and valuing women as individuals, rather than reducing them to mere physical attributes.
John Wilmot's provocative and vulgar poem highlights the use of crude language to criticize and degrade women. In today's society, this kind of language and derogatory attitude towards women is not acceptable or tolerated. It serves as a reminder of the importance of respecting and empowering women in all aspects of life.
One of John Wilmot's most controversial poems includes the following lines:
“Bawdy in thoughts, precise in words, Ill-natured though a whore, Her belly is a bag of turds, And her cunt a common shore.”
John Wilmot's provocative poem challenges traditional notions of femininity and explores themes of sexuality and vulgarity. Consider the following reflection questions:
“Now piercèd is her virgin zone;She feels the foe within it.She hears a broken amorous groan,The panting lover's fainting moan,Just in the happy minute.”
“any experiment of interest in life will be carried out at your own expense”
“Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories.”
“Nothing suits worse with vice than want of sense”
“Man differs more from man than man from beast”
“After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.Let the ambitious zealot lay asideHis hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;Let slavish souls lay by their fearNor be concerned which way nor whereAfter this life they shall be hurled.Dead, we become the lumber of the world,And to that mass of matter shall be sweptWhere things destroyed with things unborn are kept.Devouring time swallows us whole.Impartial death confounds body and soul.For Hell and the foul fiend that rulesGod's everlasting fiery jails(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,Are senseless stories, idle tales,Dreams, whimseys, and no more.”