Steve McQueen

Steve McQueen
Icon of the sixties
Your name is on my shirt

I met your grandson, Steven McQueen
With all the east coast pixies.
His handshake didn't hurt.

He was nice, and used to play with vampires
Anne Rice is more my style
She writes a tragic monster tale

But hey, where is the staple of this Empire’s
Usual talk about the pile
Of poop, I hear you wail.

Well, it came and went
With hardly a bother
So elsewhere was sought

For poetry to be sent
Like a wounded father
Wallowing in his lot.

I know, that was lame!

You're seeking much the same

As what you normally find

After poop leaves my behind.

 Maybe tomorrow will be better

The poop warm and wetter

The wipe, near divine.

We will see, readers of mine.


So now it’s happening

No not the fappening

Although Pat is next to me

When before, he was before me

I sat after him and nothing came

I sat next to him and it wasn’t the same

An angry little poo

A sharp and hard Doo Doo

So yeah, I pooped today

With Pat

Pat, Pain, No Gain

Sitting after Pat.
The seat is already warm.
There's a lingering stench, pretty norm

Can't stop thinking about the residual heat
I'd like to say it's pretty neat
I can't, it's not.

Furthermore, this was a sit-down gassing
No poop passing
Out my butt.

Firing off blanks
Probably I know just where my thanks

Supreme upper back pain
Truly breathtaking in the main
Debilitates me. I hate it.

On hold with Amazon

On hold with Amazon

Are my pants on?

No! I’m on the pot

So they are most definitely not.

Well, they’re on my legs

Which the question begs

Why don’t they have pegs?

To hang your pants up?

Like my car has holders for my cup

Sidenote: the guy in the next stall

He’s giving it his all.

The sounds coming from his ass

Speak of troubles I’d gladly pass

Anyway, I’m no longer on hold

My business conducted, while pooping, so bold.

Also, turns out that

That guy, was Pat.

Free Form

Three one day, none the next

Warning: Pooping Times May Vary

With Additional Increases, Including But

Not Limited To:

Have you ever pooped in a dream?

Have you ever pooped in a stream?

Have you ever wondered if you’d poop out steam?

No, not I, if that’s what you’re wondering.

I poop when I can and when I must

And sometimes my poop resembles a bust

of Katie Couric


Another Double Deuce

Another double deuce!

Am I at war with my ass?

I’d call for a truce,

If I knew it would pass.

Punctuation is fun:

Look at me run!

But I won’t get far…

Non sequitur, tar?

Look, I’m at a loss

As to what to say

About not being the boss

Of my poop and it’s play

So just read to the end

And I promise

Your doubts I will mend

My name, is Thomas.

No More Oreos

About 15 Oreos and a chocolate milkshake

Demanded to be released right away

I held off agreeing for my girlfriend’s sake

We slept very sound and woke to the new day

I made it work and even started writing

But it wasn’t 15 minutes later

That my lip, I started biting

And then to my poop, I had to cater

And let loose such a foulness into the bowl

I almost wretched myself

But gagging, I managed to wipe clean my hole

Like a nice and tidy elf.