Number 1 the second

With 101 done
It's time for a new number 1
Of poetic musings on taking a number 2.
This second edition, of the poetry of poo
Is ready to rock out—

I’m sorry, I’ve got to interject here that while I’m sitting in the loo, composing this poem and taking a poo, a lady poked her head in and asked, “Is anyone in here?” To which I replied, “Yes…” “Oh,” she said with unwarranted surprise (this is the men’s room after all). “Can you flush when you’re done?” She further inquired. “I always do,” I answered back testily. Seriously, what the actual fuck?? Anyway back to important shit:

And flourish and flout,
The thinking and feeling of pooping each day.
And pumping that out and sending it your way.
So that we can all rejoice in the pleasure of a good dump
And the words that flow from my giant brown lump
Poo Poetry, Take Two
From me, to you.

Poo 101

This is it

The final shit

I can’t believe

As the poo will leave

That I will have written

101 Poo Poems of which I am smitten

 

And I will say don’t be sad

That this volume is done

For there are more poops to be had

With more poems of fun.

 

It was truly a pleasure

To pen all these rhymes

With which to measure

My pooping times.

 

Daily I fought

To try and be clever

With words that were sought

To highlight my endeavor.

 

So I hope you’ve enjoyed

All that I’ve done

While pooping while employed

To make something fun.

 

Deuces

 

Insane

Did I wait to late??

This poop won’t come!

Is it something I ate?

Oh no! I’m pissing out my bum.

Terrible gut, wracked nerves?

Even though it’s pissing

Blockage too?! This serves

To remind me of what’s missing:

My sanity.

Ah!

I’m seriously worried

How can this be?

Is the first one hurried

What is wrong with me??

 

Two little poops

On my second poop today

It’s like a giant oops

That’s happening every day!

 

I cannot become a two poop pooper

I have to expel all in one sitting

My mind collapsing, is no trooper

I should poop only once! As is fitting.

 

Shit.

Two Again, Ugh

With the end in sight

My colon, I suspect, knows

And so I sit yet again and fight

To push out the second, poop foes.

I’ve expressed before, my displeasure

At pooping twice in one day

And I don’t exactly know how to measure

The increase to what I’ll pay.

But I do say this:

I’d rather poop, than piss

On my neighbor,

For the labor.

False Misgivings

Somewhat late,

I had feared

And had myself geared

Towards a poo I’d hate.

Unfounded this fear

As the poo came out nice

Carrying a hint of spice

From food made with cheer

And it should be noted

The end draws near

101 poems, ya hear!

Of poop they are coated.

And when they come out

I’m sure they’ll succeed

And profits will proceed

To cause me to poop with a shout!

Cornhole

There’s corn in my shit

On this double deuce day.

I ate that corn, yesterday.

In my first poo, not a sign of it.

 

Frankly, I’m not happy

I’ve pooped twice a day too much

I’m worried my hole will stretch and get flappy

Who am I that I fear such??

 

Cripes! I am frightened of piles.

Also known as hemorrhoids.

What if I took steroids

And ran for a thousand miles?

 

Would that make my butt huge?

And stave off that donut pillow?

Or would my ass work like a luge

for my poop to slide through though?

 

For Fuck’s sake!

I just want to go back

To one poo to make

Each day, what a hack…