Let Rip the Farts of Love and War
I love to fart, it stands me tall,
the raucous rumbling, belly bell,
all look around with eyes aghast,
to witness such a mighty blast.
when before the beak for slander foul,
I gave him one that made him scowl,
“does Sir require a time alone?”
I farted down his crony’s phone.
and if I’m lauded, like Le Potomane,
I light one to produce a tongue of blue
incandescent flame; thus lit, the room
and shadows prance, about the room
the dragons dance
and when in battle we cower from gun,
and want to encourage my comrades on,
I crouch below hell’s muddy trench, and
thus release the devil’s stench
then running forward death all around, I
fart the bugle’s curdling sound, and to
the enemy’s quick dumbfound, so
soon we seize triumphant ground
you see for me it is no shame, to unleash
the belly’s dogs of war, and oft when
travelling by first class, I give them a blast
from boiling ass
when love speaks strong and passion cries,
beneath the sheets there are no lies, so ahhs!!
or Oohs!! I never start, but let rip a lover’s
orgasmic fart
look: tis not the wallet, watch or jewel, that
creates the jinx, and mocks the fool, a prettier
penny lies beneath;
tis the fart; and jealous mule, the thief.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
