Best Excretion Poems
Blank white
waiting for an excretion
of ink to fill
imaginary lines.
Virgin paper held in reams
repudiate the poet's pen,
this stark silent bond
naked of any water mark.
Two sides
to the story unwritten
imaginary lives
wait in the wings.
Categories:
excretion, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse
A flamed anguish gathers in a bleak cellar
of gray nights pounding on my veins,
steaming through a roughened flesh;
that in my days I have lost passion’s luster
and solitude is the only elixir I rub for now.
Yet in reflection, the breaths find out how
this darkness can shed a glow upon excretion
of angst: the allowing of heart’s root begins
to sprout in dewy, fertile mornings.
I roam along cafes where flavored kisses
once bloomed in July: your turn now
to beg for a second chance, oh much too soon.
For I have reaped moments of lush joy,
of christened peace ,as new blossoms ripened
from discoveries and friends to feast;
till goblets of life sparkled like oozing champagne
while your face turned old from stubbles of time.
6/18/2015
Olive Eloisa Guillermo’s Sweats and Sweets
Categories:
excretion, heartbreak, life, sweet,
Form:
Free verse
You.
Yes you.
Are hard work.
There's nothing more to it.
The scarcity of my vocabulary limits me from describing the complexity of the situation buuut yes.
You are toilsome.
Tedious the father.
Perseverance the mother.
And you are the unmistakable offspring.
You are the reason I have sleepless nights that seemingly yield no reply.
You have been found guilty of being the causation of my sweat excretion.
You persistently infiltrate what was once a routine prayer without you.
Now my God knows about you. Through me.
Indeed, that's quite the accolade.
How you managed to systematically permeate through to every area of my life
Trepidation being the result of this uncontrollable cascade
And ultimately increasing the probably of my hesitancy.
You're hard work.
But you're also hard work.
You are the blossoming reward of my efforts, enveloping smiles encapsulated by the glorious figure you adorn.
Your demeanor and grace, weigh up as reason enough to continue on effortfully.
My body may be weakened by the strenuous activity
but God remains hard at work within me equipping me for the hard work you present
And you've proven to be worthy of the cause. Timeously.
What started as ambivalence progressed into what can only be described as Irrefutable pleasure.
Molding my being through the work you present remains a addictive pleasure.
Ecstasy. You excite me.
The future is never guaranteed in the present, but as you continue to preparedly present yourself in my present, I will continue to receive your presence as a precious present.
You may be hard work, but you're my hard work
A task I solemnly lay claim to
And together we shall walk, reaping the rewards to come in this toilsome, yet, gratifying journey.
Categories:
excretion, boyfriend, girlfriend, love, work,
Form:
Free verse
The kidneys are so beautifully organized;
We are bless to have two inside.
There are two kidneys, each about the size of a fist.
From God it is a beautiful gift.
They are such a positively divine precision.
Such a vital part that keeps the body moving and living.
Their work of regulation with such a miraculous flow.
It filter wastes (especially urea) from the blood and excrete them and water in urine that
is how it goes.
It is excretory organs that has a bean shape.
That is what makes it so unique and great.
The production of urine involves highly complex steps of excretion.
That is called reabsorption.
They have so many important functions.
Kidneys also control the red blood cell production.
The kidneys also produce hormones.
Also they produce an active form of vitamin D that promotes strong, healthy bones.
Categories:
excretion, health, life
Form:
Rhyme
We constantly deal with poetry which puts us in a soporific state,
we sit here apathetic to the cause of studying this beautiful art-
but Poetry’s breath Ad Nauseum about love and laments is bad for a date,
oblivious to the images, while attempting to turn the key we begin to depart.
Yet the door haunts us, novels, plays, yet poetry is the apex,
of this ethereal mystery within the maelstrom that is our mind,
alas this frustration is focused upon the conundrum of poetry being complex,
is it just a condensed novel, this Herculean Task of understanding the undefined.
There are many who deem poetry obsolete but tis rather far from its nadir,
now begins the unequivocally splendid power of the imagination-
hidden by poetry from the vituperative invader,
who’ve made an egregious mistake in deeming poetry a partial differential equation.
Imagination, oh what a beauty long forgotten in the age of reason-
we’ve been given Hobson’s choice, force fed Occam’s razor, given epitome-
yet good ol’ imagination persist like an excretion,
from the eyes of the true daughter of time, Science’s proficiency.
People assume poetry is the modern day Gordian’s Knot-
well- let us assume this is Utopia, were Imagination runs wild-
as she watches her forest, a black cat surreptitiously passes a man in thought,
startled because it is Friday the thirteenth his Triskaidekaphobia- this is all rather mild-
Just the tip of the iceberg was touched upon, just the tip-
Poetry and humanity is an oleaginous affair we mix but do not blend,
Or should we, poems are nothing more than what we put in, as if to dip-
just our toes, before we plunge head first into poems so as to apprehend.
Poetry is the Sun, as you are the flowers shined upon,
given warmth of knowledge and power if you are to just reach.
Not to let Poetry in as if to catch on-
give it back in your own form of speech.
Through your own imagination feed poetry,
It hungers for your reality, though not reality-
procrastinate not- hopefully,
for your conceptions are your sanity.
Or rather is fancy your sanity- decide,
it will affect your observation of poetry forevermore.
It will excite-
whether you believe it to or not- you will love or abhor.
Poetry is not arduous -
just do not assume there is a secret door.
In fact poetry is quite virtuous-
Seek only what you can give poetry, I do implore.
Categories:
excretion, beauty, dedication, imagination, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
a walnut waltzing with a willow tree
A molecule is neither a destitute mop without a bucket house. Nor is it a seven acre field that is very cold due to having no grass. Even the most prepared of ground is a haven for a gloved concrete whose acidic greedy greyness freezes the earth allowing for no breath from the ground. It is located between the purple mountain and hawks head valley. Where the hypotenuse causes a massive erosion and lesion in the wild vibrant landscape. Birds sigh at the chaos. Trees cry for their home. And the dark eyed mystics shaking rattles speak of prophesy that was spoken and handed through time through pictorial evidence, speech, story and song. Moving a large display of teapots in a shop is imperative to create a nice display for consumers. They might buy one so always make sure spouts are facing an easterly direction for this will ensure sales and sales are salivating selfish sea lions with suits. When placing the money. When digging for liquid gold. When leaning on graves. When balancing on a breadstick over a precipice. Exert no power. Exert no pollen. Exert no excretion. And always move to the sounds omitting from a nine mile moon in a cereal packet. Harnessed by wire but untamed. Pockets picketing players. And a nice big soup causing chaos at a roadside. Yachtsman yawning yay. And the gang members are swimming in tutus. Up the mountain down the mountain. Peeling the spoken steely grey suits. Lucid suits. Sinkhole weapons of underworld. Chat chat chat. And an operatic gold star warbling on a shelf or a door. Put into a cake tin then and bake at 800 degrees. Thus ensuring leverage is even. Events equalling extraction. Then boom boom boom. All gone fishing. Xxxxx formulations Z Z Z Z
Categories:
excretion, aubade, baseball, basketball, bird,
Form:
Unquotable quotes – XVII
The more the spread of the Multi-Verse(s), the less the possibility of purpose in our lives on earth.
In a world chock-full of people where almost everybody wants to be heard, be seen and be remembered, only fools listen to fools and the vain watch the vain and the duped remember the duped..
Only evil-doers think and act as though they can get away with it all for good.
Life humiliates ALL, so what’s the difference if one rises or falls.
Every born being is a ridiculous thing, and most of all the king.
Thinking one can remedy it all – get the better of one’s detractors – before one’s end is the height of gall.
No individual can in all certainty be indispensable to – even – one’s own galaxy – to keep it believable : Is our world of any moment to all the other possible worlds ?
What remains unseen/unseeable is always a mystery to everybody but a few who appear to be inhabited by some alien spirit.
Why do evil-doers always find it always easy to triumph over do-gooders ? The contrary is the case the other way round.
Nothing can change what lies out there – not even with all the goodwill in the world : no man, no god, no will, no sacrifice, no suffering, no prayer, no brilliance, no nothing.
Odd that the most obssesive form of pleasure is still rooted around the portals of birth and excretion.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
excretion, happiness, mystery, nature, truth,
Form:
Epigram
The release, our body’s mystical excretion
The seat you perch for success or redemption
A subconscious practice we fulfill everyday
But not a favorable topic to vulgarly say
With or without candles we make it plunge
The emptiness is fulfilling, shall we once again munch?
Once is enough, thrice means dehydration
Discomfort is the name for what relates to constipation
The loo keeps more than a confession
It has immeasurable perseverance from odor sedation
So sit with a new perspective
Everybody poops, therefore honor its objective!
Categories:
excretion, humor, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
I am lost in a swamp
of adjectives, gooey, sticky,
boggy, messcatastric (don't bother looking that one up),
longing to rise above the mess, excretion, digest
completion, Gobblystinko (don't bother) – and
fly into a sky of non billowy, yet brilliant, resplendent,
eyeglareoffendic (forget it also) to meet bright
Nature Spirits, wings shimmering, gleaming, after the
rain-steaming~ those fumes of rainbows at high altitudes, gaggaliftic! (yep, now
you are catching on). So, please save me some adjectives, that
I may use for my own bejeweled, overly flamboyant, astringent,
laxateric-metafatalelastic (toss it) facsimileing-irredeemable,
superfluous poetry.
Categories:
excretion, education, humor, humorous, hyperbole,
Form:
Free verse
I know you don’t want to hear it
But one day you WILL
look up and think,
“Dammit Mom”
And then notice the rose-gold
Of a sunset
Just like I’m
Always taken by surprise
At how your eyes
Can change from green
to dusty gold then blue
Depending on the hue
Of your plain olive
or blue H & M T-shirt
I know you don’t want to hear it
But you will take that hike one day
With one or two or three
Progeny in tow and go
“Wow, inhale that smell”
Of wet outdoors and nature and life
Just like I inhale the boyness of you
Before you become a man
The spicy alcohol of cologne hiding
The musk of undone laundry maybe
The sweat, excretion of locker room,
Football, or track exertion
I know you don’t want to hear
About the birds and the bees,
Sticking your head out the truck window,
“Mom, please!”
But one day she’ll come for your heart
Just like you came for mine
that morning you were born
Categories:
excretion, boy, childhood, family, growing
Form:
Lyric
Sleeping beside me, floating o'er my head
Sitting beside me, swirling through my mind
Laying beside me, until the end
Like a the blood flowing in me, through my veins
Leaking out in the excretion of tears
The salty tang of you washing over in waves
Your lingering presence brings one to frustration
It beacons like a light, praying for me to stay
Passing time has seen it to be the other way
Categories:
excretion, depression,
Form:
Free verse
The sweat that comes out is not that matters
Where you feel guilty
For the outcome is faulty
The effect of how it comes out that matters
Not that you feel heat, not that you feel suffocation
Your hard work that involves its excretion
The effect of how it comes out that matters
For which you feel proud
Helping others in and out
The effect of how it comes out that matters
Earning your livelihood
For you would
Sweat in this way that matters
The effect of how it comes out that matters
And when you get the reward
For you work so hard
The effect of how it comes out that matters
Categories:
excretion, on work and working,
Form:
Free verse
Defecation clogged toilet bowl courtesy metamucil..
and found (me) zee papa pooped out
**** eyes zing thee
nightly dump for yesterday
July 8th, 2020 - whereby
plunger helped obstruction give way
I nearly lost me life and limb oy vey
oh my dog, the same asinine outcome
which spurred poet to get underway
matter of fact, a replay
of excretion almost occurred today
and thus an attempt to describe
a tragicomic scenario
regarding bowel movement size of subway
overflowing potty nearly
found yours truly quay
king, yet impossible mission
arises to portray
unsightly situation, the
juvenile elements of style
I hate to overplay
odoriferous subject matter
nsync with constipation
since laxative delineates,
expedites, facilitates,... née
posits heavy load emanating out rectum
quite amazing what smelly waste
exits out me
necessitating captain my captain
to signal mayday
posterior end, a dime size orifice,
which malfunctioning sphincter muscles
one moost never be lackaday
'though kids and adults
laughed back in the day,
if and/or when Danny Kaye
tactfully poked fun
at such critical bodily phenomenon
equally important as a jackstay
to keep afloat body electric
'curse with auxiliary
linkedin kickstarting jazzmatazz interplay
analogously precise as
Swiss made timepiece
said system responsible
to expel bodily toxins
upon which sitting on porcelain throne
one can softly utter hooray
thankful to experience relative pleasure
until one becomes feeble minded,
whereat fifty plus shades of gray
matter allows, enables, and
provides enjoyably foray
into the bathroom, which entranceway
hoop fully not barred nor off limits
cuz that primitive urge one best not delay
lest one requires lower
gastrointestinal intervention
especially if blocked up
fecal matter turns to clay
unless of course one doth
cause damage and betray
respect toward well
oiled human machine
exercising and eating healthy
avoiding backside skeleton musculature issues
yes... I reckon during twilight years
control over bowels doth slip away.
Categories:
excretion, adventure, dedication, desire, farewell,
Form:
Free verse
Did you think I wrote a month in a minute
Or four hundred years at the beginning of it
Do you think twenty eight days is all I need
To forget where southern fruits bleed
And stain my memory with disdain
My life has no continuation
All its history being marginalized
At the giddy edge of hate
I would not want the beginning here forever
I am a child of change
Your sins have outnumbered mine
I am always seeking a new salvation
It should be for both of us
Because if you are not saved I will sin again
Before I am trampled into dust
This is not personal now
I am too far away from it to feel anger still
It has never been personal
Color has no personality nor face
It is just an absurd marker for race.
But read me carefully
My meaning is gone to a different place
Whose excretion is all this nonsense I taste?
I must confess there are ruts of history
That would reverse my allegory
You knew you had no right to do those things
And the gall of it
You pepreptuate them still before my face
So I am not crippled by a post traumatic situation
It is the current toxin that weakens me
But I hold to resolve like a rope burning the hand
And yet I do not take it personal
I have never been lynched
Except by eyes that had no white
I have never been chased and kill
So making is a luxury
That get pacified men a noble prize
I faced them once
And I ran, but could find refuge
From this country's towering deluge
I am laying down my life for you
Because love has no alternative way
For a soldier to die away from home
For your one day of reckoning
It is easy to continue this point of view
If my history marginalizes you
But you know I have no history now
Nothing is left from the past but me
Waiting for the peace to come
Like a raven cawing
Categories:
excretion, black african american, history,
Form:
Free verse
I look at my eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, the covering
So much protection given by lord
That's is the love of lord for me
I look at all organs of body
Crafted same way with so much care
Most tasks he does on his own
Breathing, respiration, digestion, excretion
That's the love of lord for me
I Look at the beauty of nature
Sunrise, sunset, mountains, rivers, rain, birds, breeze
All for free
That's is the love of lord for me.
Impartial is the justice of lord.
All sinners are punished.
But there is a conscience which warns when about to sin.
I just need to obey it to be happy.
That's the love of lord for me.
I try giving back the same love to him
I love him the way he does selflessly
With a sense of service
At that moment I experience immense bliss.
That's the love of lord for me.
I whine for salvation to serve him
Loving lord gives me uplifting thoughts.
Bliss of salvation
Eternal, everlasting, boundless
From where there's is no coming back
Only immense bliss and peace and divine vibrations surround
That's the ultimate love of lord for me
Basking under his love, I feel like a new born baby.
Lord takes complete care of me. I have nothing to worry.
Contest Name : 'Joy of the Lord'
Sponsor : Regina McIntosh
Date: 9/3/2020
Premier contest winner 5th position
Categories:
excretion, god, life,
Form:
Free verse