Best Toilet Poems
Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)
A lavatory confinement
my$h!tdontstinkcomode.com
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If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so called kind has no class,
Fed by these political rejects, never elected for what was!
No matter,
They wipe their assets clean with our dreams
Forgetting to wipe their own toilet seats clean
Trying to make us feel dirtier than scat
Feeding off our paper when their toilet bowl water level is low
Toilet bowl PO-poes, wiping without dental floss
Missing everything in between reality
Trying to be kind, saying "One Day We'll Be Good Enough!"
Offering their Golden Plunger,
straight from the Home Depot shelves
No Thank You! My plunger a true gift from Mr. Wal-Mart himself
Next time you feel the need to offer a reference point
Please caption your name when you drop by,
Rinse thoroughly when speaking my name,
Then I will listen when you talk civilized
Correct my punctuations and spelling errors
The weakest trait you wear
You are no Prophet, just white tissue turning brown
Your Justification comes from old dry grapes falling from the vines
Ridicule will never give you the respect, for what you are!
We, the few poets from the hood,
overpower any change you offer Goodwill
Crumbling and flushing what does not meet your standards
Trying hard to force feed us soup, without giving us bibs
Thank you
Toilet Bowl Committee
For clogging up my drain with your bull$h!T
By: Keeping it Real (The Downtown Hood)
Date: 12-15-13
~*~
At times my words feel like turds
In a forever flushing toilet of life
Some days after releasing them
My mind still doesn't feel right
Butt wiped onto paper they go
Then typed into this toilet of life
As they spin around the bowl
I notice something doesn't smell right
It must be time to clean
This forever flushing
Toilet of life
Allowing me
Words of
Freshness
And new turds
To flow with delight
I sit on the toilet...
planning my choice of clothing,
hairstyle, makeup and daily chores.
Using my eyeliner for writing
a reminder to myself on the toiletpaper,
and make me complete.
Leaving the bathroom aware that
I used my reminder and flushed it down
the toilett.
HMMMM, what was my daily chores...?
_____
/ \
(____/\ )
|___ U? (____
_\L. | \ ___
/ /"""\ /.-' | |\ |
( / _/u | \___|_)_|
\ | \ \ / / \_(___ __)
| \ \ / / | | |
| ) _/ / ) | |
_\__/.-' / ___( | |
_/ __________/ \ | |
/ / / ( ) | |
( \__ |___\ \______ /_ l____ |
\ (___\ |______ )_/
\ |\ \ \ /
\ | \__ ) ) ___/
\ \ )/ /__ (
__ | / _//___| \_________
_/ ( / OUuuu \
` ---- ' (____________)
It was what it was
A stunning photograph
of
a
toilet
Ironically
it was
in the end
a microcosm
of
life
today
Creative
and positive
in its composition
Limited
and depressing
in its
stark reality
No matter
how
you paint
it
we
are
in
the
toilet of our existence
No matter
how you condemn it
it's how you deal with it
what you make of it
and in the end
even a **** house
serves its purpose
With your red rubber cup that makes suction.
You have come in handy many a day,
when there has been a flushing obstruction.
I think you deserve hazard pay.
You've saved toys, an unfortunate cell phone or two.
Then there is always the times your needed,
when we are visited by You-know-Who (pweh).
So your heroics bears being repeated.
Your sacrifice it knows no bounds,
entering murky waters, stopping floods.
Or pulling to surface the items you found.
Now aren't you glad you don't have taste buds?
Some seem to see you as just an extractor.
Yet in movies, your comic timing is beyond belief,
when your stuck on the face of a leading actor.
That you didn't quit your day job is a great relief.
Though everyone knows you on sight so well,
To be an unsung hero, seems to be your lot in life.
Taken out and plunged into porcelain hell,
Where only you would dare to dive.
So Plunger, Oh Toilet Plunger,
as we kneel here before the throne.
Let us sing out your praises,
well, maybe after we can stop these groans.
Entered in the contest: 2nd chance
Placement: 10th
They call her big Gina
You'd know if you seen her
She is a toilet cleaner
She wears a white smock
Armed with bucket and a mop
She likes to keep things clean
And is a real scrubber
If you know what I mean
She whistles as she goes
With disinfectant wafting under her nose
She replaces toilet rolls
And cleans the toilet bowls
She really loves her job
She has a cat called Doris
And a husband called Bob
Her job is dirty and often smelly
She has a tattoo of a toilet on her belly
At the end of the day
She puts her mop and bucket away
Goes home and has a shower
Then cleans the house within half an hour
Her husband makes her mad
Leaving the toilet seat up
She puts toilet water in his cup
Of tea to sup
She has a daughter called Pru
She dreams of being a toilet cleaner too
She doesn't care about the smell of poo
Just her dream comes true
We should all appreciate toilet cleaners
Just like big Gina.
''Warning! Toilet water in tea. please do not try at home.
could be dangerous and doesn't taste nice''.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.
Oh, toilet bowl
Did you hear me in the hall
Talking to that bastard wall
Asking who moved the door
Oh, toilet bowl
Don’t ever have gin and tonic
Cause inebriation is quite ironic
When lost in your own home
Oh, toilet bowl
So accessible and cool
Forgive my 90 proof drool
Irony is about to surface
Oh, toilet bowl
We're no longer alone
I’m talking to Ralph
on your big white phone
He says he’s sorry
Oh, toilet bowl
My porcelain gold
If I may be so bold
Meet my bottom
Oh, toilet bowl!
Wet Was Toilet Seat
Here is my problem want to repeat;
Some liquid was left on toilet seat;
Made by man,
Who always can;
My frantic fanny and it would meet.
Jim Horn
How to greet a toilet seat and toilet
paper each sheet. Incidentally, I
always keep mine shut so the cats
can't drink out of it.
What does one do when in the public loo,
Apart from the obvious one’s or two’s, well it’s true!
Walls decorated with an array of graffiti and words
Scribble, or jokes, tasteless, amusing or absurd
The mischief one gets up to, in a moment of quiet
Who would of thought to have a marker on hand
Ready for the opportunity to sign one’s tag
Tell me have you ever pondered the thought
Of having a wall of poetry, for the toilet door
Like a whiteboard, that you can clean with ease
Always ready for a new day, or week of ideas
Just imagine the mind’s workings in progress
Looking straight back at you when your mind is in idle
This is what happens when one is on the loo
Time on one’s hands to think things through!
Loo humour it is my forte
Risqué rhymes, I’ll write night and day
I’ve finished next book
Will you dare to look
It’s naughty – that’s all I will say!
I had a dream
Where all my clothes
Were in my toilet bowl
Clogging it.
Apparently this means that
I am drenched in emotions
Which need to be released
And expressed,
So I wrote
This poem.
No Toilet Paper
My mind is boggled.
What is with the Coronavirus mania?
Why is everyone going freaking nuts over this?
From what this writer understands,
It is much like the regular flu,
Which is killing thousands as we speak, and
Hospitalizing even more. And this has been going on,
As long as I have been alive since 1952.
But this particular microbe is novel, and
Since little is known about it apparently,
People are afraid they will “get it.”
So off to Costco they all go, and
Buy as much toilet paper they are all permitted to buy,
Take it home, store or hide it with the other family treasures,
And then realize, inexplicably, that now
They are all magically immune to “getting it.”
Is that what these crazed souls are thinking?
I can think of a fate worse than “getting it.”
Worse than sports games being cancelled;
Worse than concerts and plays going on indefinite hiatus;
Worse than school classes and Sunday services finding the exit door, for now;
Worse than millions of vacations being cancelled, and
Entire industries being brought to their knees;
Worse than the world economy taking a complete nosedive
Into depression and financial paralysis;
Worse than millions of human beings dying
Horrible, agonizing deaths due to this little microbe.
No, I can think of something even worse.
Imagine going to Steak Corral - All You Can Eat,
One night soon, and you wanted your money’s worth.
So you load up your plate with:
Whiskey-laced, barbecued baked beans and garlic bread;
Two breadcrumb-laced quarter pound char-burgers,
Each smothered in a half dozen beer-breaded onion rings,
With ranch dressing dripping over them like lava.
Then you go get some more beans on french fries with
Big raw garlic chunks nestled in them, and then,
You wash it all down with three beers.
Imagine the next morning.
Imagine the horror, the horror,
Of voiding all that Steak Corral stuff, and then
Having the absolute worst possible thing
Happen to you in today’s crisis times.
No toilet paper.
To all you varmints
Who like to squeeze the Charmin's
I went to the grocery store one day
And someone had the Charmin's squeezing away
I said hey what are you doing that for
Like come on right in the store
She looked at me like i was spun
Like it was something i had ever done
So i gave a little squeeze to see how she liked it
Another women saw me and started having a fit
Hey she said don't do that
So your the culprit that makes the rolls flat
Well i was stunned so i said real fast
No she did it first i did it last
I was just trying to teach her a lesson you see
Squeezing the Charmin's that was the first time for me
Well now i had done it i was caught in the act
And i don't squeeze the Charmin's and that's a fact
She twisted my words upside down
Made me look like a total clown
There i was in the middle of a war
Right in the middle of the grocery store
The moral to the story is don't squeeze the Charmin's
Their is a lot of people looking for those varmints
I feel myself going rigid
You don't need to tell me, darling
It's my body after all
I feel myself going quiet
Like I've never known what is was to speak in flowers even though that's not true
I feel myself fading beyond grasp
Because fear fades faster than any firework could
And the boom in my chest hurts even louder
Clock hands aren't meant to move backwards
And I'm wondering what that means for us and the sum of our blurry past
Rivers only move in one direction
I envy the water even when it's angry
I want to become gentle like the run off and not hard like I feel now
I want to find expiation in your words like a forgotten bill in my pocket but I know these things are only wishful thinking
I took a walk in my head all the way past the dying and dead
Past the freshly broken and back to the beginning of things
And what I saw there stole my breath because beauty hurts in the past just like I'm still living there
And we both know that part of me always will
I took a walk and found that disaster never strikes when one is prepared for it
Sing me a song, my lover
About how the leaves stay green in some places despite the cold
Despite the storms
Sing me a song but only if it's a true story and with that music in your mouth let me kiss you and taste a melody instead of ambulance sirens
You tell me I'm not trying, love
But if that were true you wouldn't hear my voice anymore than I hear god
If that were true I would have stopped answering the phone
You say I'm not trying because I'm sitting still
When in fact that's the only proof you should need
My very bones tell me to flee and yet here I am
But if that's not good enough for you, my love
I'll do the kindest thing
I'm gone, baby
I'm gone
A poet, that's me I'm called Jan
Was NEVER a poetry fan
Now two books bear my name
Not for fortune or fame
I'll pen poop whenever I can!
If ever I am stuck for words
I resort to write about turds
Brown things that you poo
When you're sat on the loo
Poop poetry's not just for nerds!