You’ve missed me, I know
And all the poos, unbestowed
But I’m back in the saddle
With both hands on the paddle
Ready to steer through the poop
And keep you in the loop
Through poetic verses
Of how the poo transverses
And fills up the bowl
To blow your mind hole.
Poo Poetry, take 3.
It’s just you all and me.
Post run poo
Explosive and grand
Weighed myself too
On the scale I did stand
I wanna know it by the pound!
Analyze the stench
Maybe give it an ultrasound
Between my ass cheeks clenched.
Being laid off won’t stop me from pooping
Doing some while on the clock is the best
But these poems will continue looping
Through everyone’s emails, texts and all the rest.
Max shared his fresh tuna, a big ass blue fin
Before that were hotdogs, chips and beer
A combination that makes this shit an unholy sin
Full of a stench that the righteous shall fear.
And that’s all I have to say about that
No need to wax on and smother you in detail
Even if this poo was quite long and fat
But I will say, my book is available in retail.
Early morning runs prime the pump
Making for an easy and healthy dump.
Chicken Adobo, a Filipino dish
Very, very tasty and better than fish,
Paired with rice
Comes out nice.
These three a day shit fests
Are wreaking havoc on my brown eye
Chafed raw and sore like little pests
Eating away the flesh above my thigh.
Normally I hate two poops in a day
Especially when the second follows the first
In the span of an hour I’d say
But I was, this morning, ready to burst.
And I left the toilet in such a way
I felt like a man marooned with an unquenched thirst.
But now I’ve finished and hope to pay
No more, because three poops is the absolute worst.
Like an empty soul
My poop has haunted me
Threatening to burst from out my hole
And now, release, but not all.
Clumpity plops into bowl
Pass like white girls in the mall
Aimlessly stupid along the pole.
But I had a donut today
And that is very good
But likely won’t nicely play
And pass as it should.