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.
This little brown pill
Dropped from my ass
Hit the water with a will
Splashing water up in Mass.
Butt cheeks wet
Those sour patch kids, I bet
Are laughing while I’m glaring.
There’s more poop to pass
But I’m all plugged up now
With a dripping wet ass
Sour patch kids, I tip my hat and bow.
A little greasy, but excellently easy
An early Poop arrived, for which I’ve always strived
Helping to lift, my mood, such a gift
For today I am down, lower than a frown
Debt unrelenting, no options presenting
A clear way out, filling me with doubt
It’s a sad affair, to be pulling one’s hair
In grief, caused by a fear of no relief
From the pressure, now beyond measure.
But aside from it, I’ve had a good shit.
Sunday funday eats
Make Monday hell day shits.
Too much cake, too many meats
Too much effort, too little bits.
Maybe next time, a little night cap
Milk of magnesia to soften the stool
To make Monday an easy lap
Of dropping the kiddies off at the pool.
Somewhat greasy, mostly foul
I poop today and mind the bowl
The smell, it echoes like a howl
Frightening as easy as a newborn foal.
Dissipates, gone and can’t be found.
Grateful though, for I was not fond
But I am less, by at least a pound
Evidence beneath me in the little brown pond.
Chicken parm in
Fist of pain out
Has me squirming about.
Never should have blasphemed
Unholy karmic backlash
Is the very current themed
butthole torture clash.
Why oh why?!
I must scream
As I feel I shall die
Of my deadly pooping meme.