Best Defecating Poems
Olive green bottle garden
once beautified her perfect patio.
Resplendent with venust foliage
and pretty alpine flowering cacti.
Sadly, with declining mobility
its owner no longer ventures outdoors.
Now grungy, its only visitors
are two defecating pigeons.
Categories:
defecating, garden, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Am I not an empty shell?
A crystal egg if you will, as I slowly swell...
In my excrement's of love,
Am I not a fetus freak?
Abandoned by the love I seek, void full tears...
Am I not a decaying embryo?
If not your love be my foe, a sacrificial lamb...
Forgive me for I not ponder at your empty words
For they are daggers that indiscriminately wander, toward my heart...
Oh such treachery, such calamity...I am defecating in my shell
So full of apathy my love, as you chain up my soul...
Be not thy name of thy bride be sorrow,
For I not see such tomorrows in the skies above...
Am I not a speck of dust?
Floating aimlessly in the cyclone of love,
For I land on the crust, of wasted years...
Am I not a contorted thought?
A tasty morsel left to rot for the vultures...
Am I not buried in a shallow grave?
Where corpses crave love again...
Is not my heart a waking wound?
For it be marooned on the island of Lost Souls
Such tidal waves of Destruction...
Soon my heart shall cease to function, for I be not in love, no more.
March.08.2016 For Contest Lament Of My Life
Categories:
defecating, abuse, dark, deep, heart,
Form:
Free verse
Eating, bathing, grooming, defecating and sleeping
All these are activities of daily living
We are breathing same air
Combing everyday our own hair
Warmed and darkened by same sun
Sleeping after a whole day is done
Shot or cut; black and blues we can have
Different type but our hearts same. It beats with blood!
One time or another we feel sad and glad!
You love games and fun. And I,too, is same!
Walk, run, talk, smile, cry: all we can do unless for some exemptions
Wholeheartedly without hesitations and inhibitions...
Captain on our own ships
Generals on our own everyday battles
Prima ballerina on our own life dance
Managers on our own businesses
Teachers on our own examples and words
Leaders on our own small or big ways
Builders and engineers of our own dreams
And much much more than we can imagine...
But...
What are those frowns?
Why are those arched eyebrows?
What are those questioning belittling look?
What and why are those foul remarks?
Different skin; different creed
Different names, different race
Different status; different styles
Different lands, different tongues
_
The bottomline is
God made me and God made you
Respect me and I will respect you
That we ought to do
No need for clue nor cue
DO RESPECT BECAUSE IT IS DUE
We are equal of dignity
Each and everyone possess a deal of integrity
All are blessed
All are gifted with talents
Capable of enhancing a potential
And discovering any other grace
Explore!
Taste the spice!
Speak humbly and be nice!
You maybe surprise!?!
How each and one can entice!
Therefore, you!
You who are racists!
CUT! CRACK! SLAM THAT RACISM CRAP!
Take a stand and make it grand!
No need for plans!
Hand and hand let's make this earth a better land!
(C) Olive Eloisa
12:55am
June 11, 2014
* This a terrible truth that still in this modern world we are in RACISM is still present as cruel as it was before.
Categories:
defecating, inspiration, people, racism, rights,
Form:
Verse
In Ulzana's Raid,
the Native- and European-American concepts of property ownership
and rights
are incompatible and irresolvable. McIntosh
had no illusions about that. He said hating Apaches for killing whites
is like hating the desert for having no water.
I suspect the movie's not a good source of anthropological data
and overlooks the commonalities among human communities
to focus on just a few bold characters
as all art must.
I consider McIntosh fortunate
to have died commensurate with the way he lived his life,
rolling a final cigarette, nothing between him and the desert,
and no gravediggers waiting, jesting, defecating. Also,
he is lucky to have had one last, dispassionate friend
to whom there is nothing left to say, the Chiracahua tracker
Kah-ti-nay.
Last night's performance of Beauty and the Beast
may have been the most victorious, ecstatic, cohesive
moment in our little school's history. Emily was Beauty, a filament of
energy
who doesn't like to be touched and has been known to punch
boys hard. She had memorized her lines until she was hardly
Emily but only Beauty in a blue dress unselfconsciously
hiking up her tights between the Beast's advances.
Is this done in every American town and the world
over so there's no need to feel lost or lonely
ever?
There is no context for a man
outside the platoon or raiding party, home or shop.
When violence comes to the neighborhood,
the hierarchy of communicants will hold or fold
it is then the peace work proves relevant. I noticed McIntosh,
grizzled as he was, accepted the given hierarchy, a raw lieutenant's
orders,
as he did the desert and Apaches, with a shrug and foreknowledge
of the outcome. If there's anywhere with no Emily or Beauty
we should bring them such blessings at the point of a
gun. But there is no place without Emily, not
the least-known prison in deepest space as long
as we do not hate or hurt or shun
the Beast.
Categories:
defecating, america, art, friend, history,
Form:
Verse
Spirit of the night
Spirit of the night soil man
Spirit of the night soil man is awake
Spirit of the night soil man is abroad,
Here, the emerging mystery, more a sinister from a
dungeon,
When twilight sat on sad rooftops,
Lurking eyes, creeping limbs in the damp backyards,
To Loo looking gunt in the gloomy moonlight
Where broiling broths in chamberpots and bedpans are
emptied.
A structure of planks led upstairs
Ushering to crouch in a crouching mode,
Over hot hole on the pedestial,
Displaying buttocks lob over poe
Began the winced and windy screeching sirocco,
Screaming complaining bass and solo guitars,
Can be irksome when catch unawares
Of habitual sacrificial ritual of defecating,
On other hand, when afflicted in fora,
Go gawky limping along all the way
Any convenience found,
Unleashed mixed vortex of dark diarrhoea,
Ascendancy of curl buxom python laid,
Windy circular terra-cotta thin rope
And from top, short brief beef cake grenade drop,
After, some bruisers clean with dry cardboard
Or old newspapers that headline "Hard Times"
All add up sure riches to wealth,
Well soughted out after in heap chest.
Categories:
defecating, timenight, night,
Form:
Free verse
They are perched everywhere just waiting.
If you feed them, they will start defecating.
Some people consider them rats with wings.
Pigeons can do some of the nastiest things.
I went to the car wash to get my car clean.
What a flock did was nothing short of mean.
So today, I wasted a little of my money.
I want to do with my shotgun something that's not funny.
Inspired by another member's poem.
Categories:
defecating, bird, car,
Form:
Light Verse
Just to set things straight before I rant on.
I believe in God
Religion in almost any form disgusts me
They were given this earth and life in all its glory
What did they do in appreciation ?
They promptly invented a better place!
Heaven. Paradise. Angels, Virgins (why?)
And of course Satan with his burning Hell
It's like being given water to drink and defecating in it
Oh I forgot, we did that.
Then of course they branched out into sects
Protestant, Catholic, Sunni, etal
Convincing Irish men to war with each other
over how to please God
As to Earth (The Gift from God)
They war over who gets to destroy it
They die to actually own it
Complete with headstone.
Usually in the best area for living.
How do you religious ingrates live with this sin?
In blind senseless destruction of all it can be.
Categories:
defecating, historywar, earth, war,
Form:
Bio
I often voice record poems when I’m defecating on the toilet –
I wonder, could this be considered as poetry dumping…
just askin for a friend lol
NB As the Queen of Poop I will NEVER be 'de turd' from posting my poems on what is a poetry site
Categories:
defecating, for her, humorous, poetry,
Form:
Monoku
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
As the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Maneuvering on the sloppy storey hill
A frantic dance of dead-drunk crazy masquerade;
Man-handling the dare-devil by weary drenched soaked in
talisman man,
Springs from a ream hole in the floor
Hand-shuffling on long iron pole gear,
Wrestling with reckless white knuckles of steering wheel;
A nipple for torch-light knob looking tough headlamps,
A bare-face speedometer, a mare decor;
Rear is bare, except fanning out putrid fart in
defecating vulva;
And a pumping brake failure refused to catch,
Disaster looms down a glitch away,
Marijuana induced braggarts, bang at the battered dent
body;
All acted in the climatic anti-climax role in the tragic
play,
As horn and side mirrors, villains make do,
Ghastly farewell garland to stranded passengers on
departure;
Welcome to hellish shore of grimacing dismember carcasses,
From the extinct scratched my backside please dense
Bolekaja view,
Stigmatized masses muck arranged tight,
File in wooden slavery mule;
And the pompous promise land looks a light years away,
Now on the garish cold rusted cut steel,
Buttocks crammed on planks for seats;
Knees folded to gangrene stroke roost,
Pillaged and pilloried, rasped and gasped for a slice bread
of life,
Staled sweats seeped and poured decayed stench on forms;
***** squeezed queued on narrow alley,
Romancing buttocks swell sips to bursting through;
And the lushing rhythmic beating drum
Re-enters lock and brake,
Dilepa dilepa dilepa duro nube o!
Omokunrin kan ti daran nube o!
Ofowo kanmi loyan me solo!
ofowo kanmi nidi me solo!
Toku toku lona nkan boyi o!
Komo ipe kolokolo lahere wa!
Categories:
defecating, urbanme,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes people manipulate circumstances point fingers;
And paint accusatory renderings of destruction;
Muted with the colors of intention to misdirect and discredit.
But when the dust settles the flags of honor can still be seen flying
And even though a house of love may be under siege;
There may be some still looking to acquire entrance;
Because there is often kindness;
And encouragement to believe in one’s self;
Even though the finger painters have told everyone they shouldn’t.
And some defenders may grow weary but continue on for reasons unknown
Yet dare to stress the importance of;
Never defecating where you eat;
Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer;
Because life can be a distorted reflection;
Of what seems larger than it really is.
Categories:
defecating, socialmay,
Form:
When confronted with
edicts of expendability,
the sanest of minds
condemn usury as a practice
defecating on
the nobler edicts of survival
until all herded
charge the very gates of compliance.
Categories:
defecating, social, war
Form:
Free verse
Fear thee not, for thy sweet stench of dormant death is in the aboulic air
Thus in thy fraught, and benighted breath to ask for thy life to shamely spare
Or be quick thy death, defecating and releasing thy sacred salubrious soul
For thy wick in candle, awaiting a chastising seditious smoke streaked stroll
For is not a man, peacefully protected by graceful gods and ascending angels
Or be thy heavens plan rigorously rejected by those who sever thy carpal cables
Alas in thy fetal fright, I bid thee a fond adieu with a savourless somber sorrow
For thus our festive flight with holy honeydew and minstrels musical morrow.
02.20.2017
Fear
Sponsored by/The Seeker
Categories:
defecating, death, fear,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
In my imagination I have 16 nostrils,
As you can imagine that’s quite a buildup of green snot,
But it doesn’t matter because in my imagination,
I have 16 index figures, each one with a little mouth,
With razor shop teeth, perfect for eating bogeys,
And at the base of my palm there are 16 little bum holes,
Defecating with continuous aplomb the bundles of snot down my sleeve,
In my imagination there is a tramp living under my stairs,
He lives off the dry goods, crackers, rice krispies and digestives,
Only I know that it’s really an Indian yogi,
Who sits whispering prayers to protect my affairs night and day,
In my imagination there are 12 maggots burrowed deep in my brain,
And they are eating my brain cells continuously,
But they only eat cells that communicate information about Osteopathy,
And other holistic therapies,
In my imagination there is a fly who is desperately worried about his starving kids,
So in my imagination on a night time when I’m asleep,
He sits with his arms folded leaning in my ear and reads from various holistic health books,
In an attempt to educate me on the arts of the healer,
But it’s all in vein because in my imagination I’m tone deaf,
In my imagination my face is a lofty building,
A corporate situation or maybe a civil building, something like passports and immigration,
The façade of this grey concrete building is flanked with many stairs,
Row up on row of steep dangerous stairways,
All leading to a small roof with a hatchway into my mind,
And in my imagination all day and all night,
Tiny men and women run from the revolving doors at the front of the building,
And track nimbly and urgently up the stairs carrying important documents,
One after another with anxious faces they, tight footed, make their way to the roof,
And in my imagination they disappear into my mind to deposit their paperwork,
Tragically it all gets overlooked because in my imagination there is so much red tape,
That government officials can never push forward with their plans,
In my imagination dead things don’t rot,
Because in my imagination instead of decaying corpses become lighter,
They become so light that they begin to float like helium balloons,
So in my imagination the skies are full of gently bobbing cadavers trailing into the sun,
Categories:
defecating, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
Will my love wither away?
Beyond death’s destructive door
Or will it soar throughout eternity, my love...
And thus I shall have a chance to prove my
Devotion to you...
That I may woo you beyond time,
And thus your love will become mine...
Say that it is so my love, our passion lives forever
Or does it fade into the empty never of the forgotten,
Our souls left to rot in the abyss of solitudes
I pray that our love will be renewed...like the Phoenix
But alas in this plane of reality I have lost your love...
You were once my Venus...and I your Prince
~But now~
Am I not an empty shell?
A crystal egg if you will, as I slowly swell...
In my excrement's of love,
Am I not a fetus freak?
Abandoned by the love I seek, void full tears...
Am I not a decaying embryo?
If not your love be my foe, a sacrificial lamb...
Forgive me for I do not ponder at your empty words
For they are daggers that indiscriminately wander, toward my heart...
Oh such treachery, such calamity...I am defecating in my shell
So full of apathy my love, as you chain up my soul...
Be not thy name of thy bride be sorrow,
For I do not see such tomorrows in the skies above...
Am I not a speck of dust?
Floating aimlessly in the cyclone of love,
For I land on the crust, of wasted years...
Am I not a contorted thought?
A tasty morsel left to rot for the vultures...
Am I not buried in a shallow grave?
Where corpses crave love again...
Is not my heart a waking wound?
For it be marooned on the island of Lost Souls
Such tidal waves of Destruction...
Soon my heart shall cease to function, for I be not in love, no more.
Dec.08.2017
Move Me, and Others
Sponsored by: Madison Demetros
Categories:
defecating, loneliness, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Turtle wrap is a turtle entwined. Eh. Ooh.ball is the only thing for a bit. Among a fish baked grass. And a farting squid in a barrel of pickles is a introduction to a heifer dance. So many beef goats for a merry massacre. And burping with a turtle heated bead head is almost as invested as Abdu ii spinning in a meeting. Serpentine meeting a jalapeño in an arena. Melting no cooking pot. Dinner divination duty dropping deeds divinely. Pontiffs place Peahen properly and a propulsion of a prism point is a didactic rhythm guitar and drums and bassist sailing on a small rectangular seed. On a stream. Several streams singing watertight winking walls. And the beast of the brick is a linkage of a lineage. Lint no linguistic lounging lolly. And a nice fantastical fabric. Xxxx and hahahaha now defecating drives. Hahahaha and a numerical swift swimming. Xxxxx educational establishment two vertical vestryman nil. Xxxxx morphological Z z z Z
Categories:
defecating, allah, bangla,
Form: