Tue Poo

Tuesday poops, uninspired
Looking through what's transpired,
My waste details
How my food entails

Of what I choose to chew and eat.

And this poo in particular
Was not what I would dub spectacular.
Kind of rough
And a little tough

To push out and expulse while on the toilet seat.

But it was not terrible to be true
Just a little less pleasant than a normal poo.
But in the end
This poo did send

And now it's time for lunch; time to eat.

Trench Stench

Monday begins with a mighty send

Full of odors most foul.

As it came, fast and explosive around the bend

This poo announced it’s presence with a mighty howl!


Seriously though, I wish I had a gas mask

It’s unusual to hate your own brand

But Christ, sitting here, an unpleasant task

I cannot believe the smell at hand.


Truly powerful, beyond compare.

I’ve never created such a stench

It smells of rotten foreboding and despair

Like the mustard gassed, trapped in the trench.




Ever wonder, before TP, what we did

After a mushy poop from your butthole slid

Only halfway out, leaving behind shit on your behind?

Well I did, and look of course, and here’s what I did find:


Sticks for those in the East

Scraping away a fruit fly’s feast

Though China did first use TP

While water for the Arabs post poop and pee.


Europe, well they weren’t so clean

Which why refusal to shake a French left hand isn’t mean

Because they scrapes away feces by hand

Probably the grossest method in all the land.



Righteousness! It pours

Or rather flows smoothly out

Like blackheads from big pores

When pinched hard from the snout.

Deliciousness! Chicken cutlets, last night

I made well but wanted beer

For washing down, something light

But full of flavor, ya hear!

Ridiculousness! To the toilet it goes

Like a gaping porcelain hole

Awaiting poop morsels, it knows

That me, the one pooping, has no soul.

Giants and Sprites

The blue whale of shits

So long, I had to stand

Grossly, the tip, my scrotum it hits

My balls, now stained by my brand.

More to come

Though not with ease

But here joins Pat, to add some

And wow! The sound of his, please!

He’s quick, that Pat

Pooped, wiped and left

In less time than I sat

His poo was most deft.

But now I am finished as well

Time to clean the dirt star

And get back to hell

Which for me, is about on par.

Piss Spit

Why spit before you piss?

Never understood this,

Need to hock one in

Before you begin.

It’s a weird notion

This spitting then pissing commotion.

A territorial marking?

To pave the way for urine parking?

Well, as it did happen, while I sat down,

My load came out, a color hardly brown,

And I heard him spit, right in the bowl

Before unleashing from his pisshole.

I don’t like it, I must tell you.

This spitting before pissing, while I poo.

Not one fucking bit.

So I encourage you to refrain from spitting, while I shit.

Thank you.

Work It!

This poop, such work!

I ignored it’s first cry

So now it’s a jerk

Resisting while I try

To find relief!

To push it out

And end my grief

And this difficult bout.

More greens I swear!

I will load up on fiber

Too much to bear

Till the poops will find her

That glorious burst

Of an easy poo

That leaves like a hearse

From the loss of you.