The Truth

It was, a little messy

This poo today.

In fact, it’s best we

describe it another way:

Pure. Liquid. Shit.

Anaheim Shits

Today, I shat

in a Jack-in-the-Box

The beef, cheese and bread selling place

Not the toy.

It was…stress

Those behind the counter

Controlled the lock.

Knees raised, grunting hard 

I fought for speed

Afraid the door would open.

Knock. Knock.

Frozen mid-wipe

I strained, tense.

The moment, fearfully eternal…passed.

I finished cleaning my nervous ass ass.

You Eat It

A pretty massive dump

Poured out from within

Peanut butter Hershey’s Syrup sandos for the win

And to get me past the hump


I eat them in the middle of the night

Followed by a glass of milk

Wonderfully delicious and smooth as fucking silk

They end my night just right.

She said yes

I’m newly engaged

So this is the first

Poo poem waged

Of which, it did burst
Out from my butthole

With a fiercely force

Like a hot iron gut pole

Or a winged hell horse
And wow, I have to say

Now that I’m single no more

My lady might rue the day

When she said yes to this boor.

You’ve Missed Me, I know

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.

Gleaming

A weekend of junk

Filling my gut

High smelly, like a skunk

As it leaves my butt.

 

But I ran in the morning

To better my body

And pass from the mourning

Of the tasty food that’s quite shoddy.

 

And now I must wipe

That brown eye of mine

To keep it the type

Of glistening, clean shine.