Best Latrine Poems
There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!
You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!
He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!
Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!
Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!
Bi-polar bear’s crafty and mean
So snooty she acts like a queen
She’s cold and aloof
Of that I have proof
And was last seen on the latrine
Bi-polar bear peed on the ice
Bright yellow ice didn’t look nice
To cover her tracks
She grabbed her ice axe
Her chopping was not quite precise
Bi-polar bear made a huge hole
And into the hole she did roll
A male saboteur
Did not rescue her
He battered her head with a pole!
Bi-polar bear could not be found
It’s thought that Bi- polar bear drowned
I’d love to raise a huge glass
To whoever kicked her ass
Sadly he did not hang around
NOT for Contest
Follow up to a poem written with Lin Lane in May 2017
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/bi_polar_bear_collaboration_with_lin_lane_901528
11-07-17
Government policies that toilet stink
Presidentially approved
by a potty-mouth politrician rat-fink
Give the progressive town halls
more executive bathroom stalls
Read the foul language scrawls
on the Oval Office latrine
dollar-bill green painted walls
Flush the rank noise
with a few
smelly issue tissue tweet bawls
That dung aroma gon make your nose blink,
bowel vapors
will have your thoughts vomiting in the sink
Get the voting public
standing at nausea attention
Prep the ballot masses of breathy dissension
with sound bytes
of bitter chocolate bung mint,
duly veto sent
Tell ‘em it’s their sworn patriotic duty
to greedily eat the excrement
Taste the butt-hole flavor
of nasty worded inhalation torment
Truth got swallowed whole ... intestinal sold
Filthy lucre lips
do love the ruble con savor
Condition the brownie-nose party bound chumps
to double dip the cow chips
into the raw sewage salsa with the brown lumps
Be stricken by the loose tongue,
back-end diet
of diarrhea verbose crying
A cheeky butt buffet ...
odious motives with odoriferous intent
Buy the all-you-can-eat lying,
go feast on the swirling fear excrement
The shop floor view of the newly promoted
Oh to be the factory foreman and to wear a posh white coat
Just the thought of all that power brings a lump right to your throat
No more dirty hands or hob nail boots or boiler suits for you
No more rushing through your break time just relax and drink your brew
Carrying your briefcase, there’s no need for you to hide it
We all know that like your head there’s not a lot inside it
With your clipboard and your pencil you can wander round the site
Whilst assuming great authority you put us workers right
You believe we are in awe of you and hold you in esteem
If that is what you really think your living in a dream
We have seen all your back stabbing and we don’t know how you sleep
Everybody knows you as a sycophantic creep
We heard you telling everyone in the works canteen
That you now had access to the managers latrine
It’s true that for promotion you were first past the post
Yet the workers here all see you as a bigger pratt than most
We have read all your new rules and how we face the sack
We are all in the union and we’ll be fighting back
Don’t go thinking as a foreman that your future is secured
Your about to be upended by a young smart-arsed shop steward
When nature calls away from home
you need to find a public throne
a place that's clean to spread your cheeks
one that flushes without plumbing leaks
not at an outhouse or a remote latrine
they're so disgusting and very obscene
Time to hurry you're poking cotton
skid mark stains are never forgotten
parking your car at the local K-mart
releasing pressure, cheek sneak a fart
concern turns to fear of what you dread
passing gas has formed a turtle head
As your back side slaps the toilet seat
you realize this job will end incomplete
burning eyes from the methane vapor
on the roll not one square of paper
so every time you cut the cheese
don't forget to clinch and squeeze
Oh no theres something alien in my stomach
something which want's very badly to come up
it's 4:30 in the morning and I feel very queasy
as I slide out of bed feeling quite uneasy
Was it something I chewed…right now I haven't a clue...
Making it to the latrine I put up the lid
psyching myself up as I get a grip
feeling like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt
and like that girl from the Exorcist as I empty my gut
I'm a hurly girly…giving my ufos a swirly…
As I slide back into bed I have a trusty pail
just in case I have to vomit again with the wind force of a gale
surprisingly I don't but still feel quite sick
so I call into work and explain to them very quick
My stomach is in knots and twists…would someone please call me an exorcist...
Then later my son say's Mom you look so pale
and goes out and buys me some Verner's ginger ale
I take a couple of sips and think maybe this will do the trick
but then about an hour later the vomiting doesn't quit
I need to be quarantined…very close to the latrine...
Alternating between the volcano eruptions and number two
I felt like a very sick zombie with an unkempt hairdo
wondering if it was something toxic that I had ate
I think maybe I should write my will out before its too late
My toilet and I have now formed a lasting bond…an inanimate object which I've grown quite fond...
But here it is the next morn and I ate some breakfast
hoping that it will stay in my stomach and last
I guess what I had was a 24 hour bout of the flu
glad its over now as I bid the stomach flu adieu.
I'm so glad we're through flu…oh no…..A…a..a-choo!!!
3-13-18
PERSERVERANCE BREEDS SUCCESS
Jss One was an insult, I cried
Like time should hit full stop,
My breakfast was sweet without
Salt,
My parents tasted like this evil
Citrus,
I continued to hide like Air Force
Was only for my seniors.
Jss Two arrived with the wind called
Releave
I began to breath as an aspiring king
Now I believe the race would definitely
Finish.
Jss Three was the mighty season
Everyday had a sweet beginning
Suddenly the queen became pretty
As boys begin to fill big,
Every Sunday I was in the dining hall
To clean wasted beans,
The brown Khaki now fits my tiny skin.
Never did I forget the mighty JSCE.
Ss1, trousers became the big deal,
I was also a victim for every ss3's
Laundry,
Morning duty was almost ending,
Up keep of the latrine was attached to
Me.
Inter house games had huge meaning
These was the day to show all my special
Skills
And entice that pretty queen,
As we stroll through freedom tree
Dangling the box room's key,
My sunday wear now had this profound whitish Glimpse.
At ss2, I became a commissioned officer
I began to predict the whether,
Even during holidays, I dreamt of returning
To my headquarters,
In Jaguar I had two lockers.
In Dornier my friends sent invites for
Dinner
Alpha wasn't my regular signal,
She whipped me in basketball finals.
I measured my days and wised there
Could be an alternative taste
But JPE was the key to unlock ss3 dreams.
Been a finalist was like magic
Today I float on the atlantic
As I scream 'ONE BOY'
The hostel begins to panic
Ariku becomes my transit
I trained this special team of bandits
So I had a contraband producing factory.
The days now had wings
Time flew without traffic.
My ink recollect's like she was a five
Minutes conference meeting,
Many couldn't climb this Iroko
For sex seasons.
Today, am not only an ALUMNI
But an harden fresh corrosive lime
Ready to swim under river Nile's eye.
AFCS is high in the sky
With the flying colors that now
Leave in my life.
KEYWORDS:
Jss_ junior secondary
SS: Senior secondary
Jsce: Junior secondary certificate examination
Jpe: Joint promotion examination.
Ariku: A small town in Iwo,Ibadan,Nigeria.
Khaki: A thick brown material
AFCS: Air Force Comprehensive School.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
Some call it an interruption
I see it as a great opportunity
Some call it a dumb question
I see that it masks a brilliant inquiry
Some call it a discipline problem
I see a butterfly emerging from its cocoon
Some call my classroom boring
I see and say it's so boring it's ridiculous
I have better things to do with my time, and with their time
Than to force these young mind into artificial environments of dull
Here's to mandatory nature walks, tent-pitching, berry-picking
Latrine digging, campfires, marshmallow roasts and ghost stories
And not to neglect timepiece, transistor radio, long-nose rifle
electrical circuit, and motor assembly and disassembly--and woodworking*
Now we're talking Education
Now we're talking Creation, Imagination
*So much I left out, including: Cooking, Painting, Fashion Design, Architecture,
Basic Engineering,... Let us do what we can; the kids'll do the rest! ~ gw
I like El Paso...the heat, the dust, the heat,
I like the cars and the hats the cops wear,
cowboys in a rusty B movie,
but most of all I like the people, the
janitors and doctors and newsreaders,
who don't care if they're American,
Mexican or both...
and the bars are cool, so cool... some
smell of menthol and others like a clean
latrine,
but that's OK..it's alright and I don't judge,
and the girls are single and friendly and they
like you 'cos your'e tall and white, with dollars
and tooled brown boots
but most of all I like the warm wind that blows
in sweet guitar music and shimmering light
from across the big bridge, tussleing the hair
of the janitors and doctors and newsreaders,
who don't know if they're American, Mexican, or both.
It wasn't all that long ago when a hole in the ground was where people would go.
Many grew sick from lack of hygiene so some one invented the pit latrine.
This greatly prevented the spread of disease. People squatted over a slab
and bent at the knees.
The first flushable was used by British royalty, a toilet that the commoner
would never see.
Chamber pots and out houses were used by many.
They composted the waste and saved a lot of pennies.
Years later dry toilets were used in most homes.
They had a wooden seat as their throne.
Some time during the twentieth century flushable toilets were
in every home you would see.
Tout allure and hello to a cleaner way.
A clever French man invented the bidet.
Is this too much information? Don't go yet.
The end of my evolution of the toilet.
An explorer called Nicholas Bean
Used a jungle path for a latrine
He started to pee
Got stung by a bee
His poor wotsit swelled up with gangrene.
The natives said you need a vaccine
Their witch doctor arrived on the scene
With some healing plants
Said “drop down your pants”
Too late it had already turned green.
Both limericks 9/9/5/5/9.
Written 15th March 2019
For green humour contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire.
You have to love them to sift their latrine,
The uric fragrance burning your nose and eyes
As you render their special place fresh and clean--
One of them watches, impatient, and sighs.
You have to be ready for sleep-rending howls
When one recovers his ragged cloth ball--
At twelve or two--shaking it with feral growls,
Boasting his prey up and down the hall.
You must be attentive--even at four--
If bowls are empty and bellies not full:
Rude rattling and scratching on the bedroom door
Has such a hypnotic, nerve-racking pull.
How apt the pharaohs decreed them divine,
While litter-box slaves were treated like swine.
S€CRET $OCIETIES
There it was on the internet for the world to see
“the secrets of the masons and secret societies.”
There were names and there were dates and details by the score
till the secret of their secrets weren’t secret anymore.
With exposés and videos getting multimillion hits
it was a tell-all, underground, middle finger pointing blitz.
It was Rothschild in the cross hairs, with that cover blown,
stripped of all the subterfuge in a youtube fire zone.
It was fortress Rockefeller, in a state of compromise
from an info-insurrection, revolution on the rise!
We know it’s the illuminate, Bilderburgers and all those
who run the worlds economies causing all the woes.
You control the central banks and the flow of fiat cash,
creating all the global debt and every economic crash.
It’s you who finance all the wars, and fund the leaders who
would enslave their populations for a buck or two.
It’s your endless stream of front men exploding in the news
while you lurk behind the scenes igniting every fuse.
And with your greedy fingers in everybody’s pies,
you drive the world to poverty and create a global sty.
It’s known your claim is that you are kings of ancient royal birth
and somehow that entitles you, to dominion over earth.
Though you have the power, with hidden technology,
to remedy all the ills of the worlds ecology,
you choose to keep it buried, without the least remorse,
and leave the earth to fester in the wake of your course.
You could make this world an Eden, so pure and so clean,
but like the thoughts within their mind, you make it a latrine.
it’s time to end your bloodlines, it’s time to break the chain,
it’s time to free this dying world from your terror reign.
And though you have vast arsenals, spies and sordid plots
the truth is much more powerful than anything you’ve got.
And it is just a little mouse, an arrow and screen
that will put an end to you and all of your regime.
Cascading waves of azure wash ashore
while cerulean curls color the sky;
subservient to time and nothing more.
The Sea absorbs a zillion drops of rain,
from a melody of showers and storms;
a dominatrix of pleasure and pain.
From indigo shades to aquamarine
She is the heart and lungs of our planet,
but, we have turned Her into a latrine.
Sullied by centuries of pollution;
Her shores are littered, no longer pristine;
for we lack a practical solution.
Our once-thriving, living Sea is dying,
placing the whole world in grievous danger:
till one can almost hear Nature crying.
The devil done put a new face
on an old sales technique
It's brash, it's bold
It's tricky sweet
But it tastes sour, this maggot treat
He swapped the fresh for the spoiled meat
Had to bait the trap good,
hide the kill switch under the hood
Alternative facts is the new money wood
This new source of energy lies
beneath methane colored skies
Smells kinda putrefied,
smells like somebody died
Fracked up those new found lies
Alternative facts is the new dung
polluting the skies
But you still gotta sell it to the people
as sweet-smelling pecan pies
You gotta know how to
bait the trap good,
hide the kill switch under the hood
Alternative facts is the new money wood
Turning truth into lies
requires filthy lucre ... this has always been understood
Bait and switch,
don't give 'em what they agreed to get
Spoiler alert: this truth-teller is gonna snitch
Those alternative facts being piped into your homes
is gonna make somebody filthy rich
Bait and switch,
don't give 'em what they agreed to get
Give 'em the old landfill reservation trick;
so when you enter your latrine, you better watch where you sit
Check the fine print on the sales agreement,
you'll find you bought yourself a pile of excrement
Historical footnote: The Australian government removed Aborigines, the first natives, from their ancestral lands that was rich w/natural resources such as gold, silver and oil. They placed them in Central Australia on barren ground reservations atop toxic landfills. The American government did similar treatment to Native Americans.