A very interesting philosophical blog, see below for a taster:
Helen of Troy, shining from Priam's porch,
her absent-minded gray gaze telling all
the dying, striving warriors below
that she suffices, the glorious cause
for Hector's and Achilles' men to die for,
held coiled within her a yard or two of shit,
of fecal matter waiting for its truth
to find the Turkish air and disappear.
The purplish blue of her well-hidden bowels
was not the sea-mist tint with which her gaze
accepted Menelaus and the horde
of men adoring her for giving them
the rage to die. The shit below, the shit
within are incidents; she turns and shines.