#page { max-width: 1200px; } article { display: block; max-width: 1200px; } #page { -moz-box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-box-sizing: border-box; box-sizing: border-box; width: auto; margin: auto; max-width: 1220px; padding: 6px 0px; -moz-osx-font-smoothing: auto; -webkit-font-smoothing: subpixel-antialiased; } #rightSidebar { padding-left: 20px; padding-top: 30px; padding-right: 1px; max-width: 600px; font-size: 16px; }

Spike Milligan's Astonishing Poem About Abortion. #ENDABORTIONNOW

I expect my American friends might not know the name Spike Milligan. He was the creator of a 1950's radio show called 'The Goons Show' which altered the history of British comedy by inspiring a new style of absurd and anarchic humor. Without the Goons we wouldn't have Monty Python and a host of other disruptive, irreverent British comedians.  You'll probably, most likely, recognize another 'Goon' cohort, Peter Sellers (The Pink Panther and Being There.)

Because Spike Milligan is such a big deal in the UK, his poem about abortion is quite astonishing. Abortion is rarely mentioned in the (government controlled) media - least of all by celebrities, and never by comedy legends.

Written from the perspective of an unborn child as he is being murdered in the womb, the poem is hard to read, deeply sad, but altogether true, right up to the last 'punch in the gut' line.   Read it and join me and many others in an important live event called EndAbortionNow tonight (April 8th) at 8pm Eastern.

Unto Us
by Spike Milligan.

Somewhere at some time
They committed themselves to me
And so, I was!
Small, but I WAS!
Tiny, in shape
Lusting to live
I hung in my pulsing cave.
Soon they knew of me
My mother —my father.
I had no say in my being
I lived on trust
And love
Tho' I couldn't think
Each part of me was saying
A silent 'Wait for me
I will bring you love!'
I was taken
Blind, naked, defenseless
By the hand of one
Whose good name
Was graven on a brass plate
in Wimpole Street,
and dropped on the sterile floor
of a foot operated plastic waste
bucket.
There was no Queens Counsel
To take my brief.
The cot I might have warmed
Stood in Harrod's shop window.
When my passing was told
My father smiled.
No grief filled my empty space.
My death was celebrated
With tickets to see Danny la Rue
Who was pretending to be a woman
Like my mother was.