Best W.C. Poems
Theresa Marie WC
When words seem poor and you can not find peace
If the birds stop building nests in spring
Precious memories caresses with grief
We know that a flower in a beautiful garden can die
Each friend you meet in life, is born under a star
The strength, warmth, dreams and questions
Someone who always has a special part of your life
A battle to succeed when everything seems so useless
Deeper than the ocean, two souls who shared a friendship
Your birth in heaven will be a beautiful and caring angel
Gathered in a lifecycle perspective to say goodbye
A dear heart, rest in peace Theresa
20.08.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
The world has discovered it's coveted holy grail
To Jules Rimet we honour let the football feast set sail.
Countries unite and teams take flight to a designated host nation
Little kids feed off this passion they tune-in with eager motivation.
Anticipation even before any ball is kicked or flicked
Back pages with fake news has our minds playing tricks.
Will he start will he not toys yanked from the cot
What's more at least we are entertained somewhat.
It takes us away from the 9-5 the same old mundane
Propels us into a four year galaxy the game beautifully insane.
From the old to the young the whole world will celebrate
Sole-stomping satisfaction our diverse planet will vibrate.
There will be scandals, errors, misdemeanours all documented
There will amazing goals, tricks, bad refereeing decisions all commentated.
What a beautiful notion thought of by that man Mr. Rimet
Implanting the WC in our lives from 1930 to present day.
Fastest Limerick Man in the West
There was a young man was always up for test
Produced great limericks that rhymed the very best
Some said he had wrote stupor
or maybe had great humor
He definitely stole funnies from the west.
Written: Nov. 17, 2015
Theresa WC
The Seat by the Toilet - Rob Barratt(rbarratt@cooptel.net)
Yes, the seat by the toilet’s
The best by a mile; it’s
The only seat in which to sit
In the seat by the loo
You’ve a wonderful view
Of the road (and a faint whiff of sh….)
Oh, the seat by the lav
Is the seat I must have
I can straighten my legs down the aisle
I’ve got people to smile at
As they queue for the toilet
It’s the seat for a man of my style
Now the toilet’s so clean
It’s a hygienist’s dream
So you don’t need to wait till the terminus
Rest assured that the rest room’s
Not an infested pest room
Or the habitat of something verminous
In the seat at the rear
There is nothing to fear
And your icy cold heart will just melt
There is room there to dance
Or adjust underpants
If it wasn’t for your safety belt
In the seat by the bog
You won’t sleep like a log
But it’s an en suite location, location
‘Cos if you need a poo
It’s just right next to you
And it’s yours all the way to the station
Though the seat by the privy
May get rather whiffy
When the occupants don’t shut the door
As they exit the closet
Where they’ve made their deposit
Just reach out, turn the knob, por favor
The lavatorial seat
Will not always smell sweet
But it’s clearly the one I prefer
I’ll pretend I’m the driver
And I bet you a fiver
That nobody else will sit ther (Liverpudlian pronunciation)
(sing)
Oh I do like to be
By the WC
Oh, I do like to be close beside it …………..
(speak)
I will know where you’re going
With your to-ing and fro-ing
Bowel or bladder, you know you can’t hide it
So ….. On the National Express
If your body is stressed
And you’re feeling the need to uncoil it
Make your journey complete
And head straight for that seat
Just relax and stretch out by the toilet
(sing) Oh dear, what can the matter be
I like the seat right next to the lavatory
It brings me great satisfaction and happily
Nobody else will sit there.
Snap crackle pop's not my cereal sound anymore
Now that's how I sound getting up off the floor
It's not new if I'm up at the crack of dawn
For an emergency journey to the John
I get a new wart or spot every day
I've now abandoned watching what I say
Though not W.C. Fields to any degree
I did say, "Go away son you bother me!"
I can come off as a little cranky I guess
I am a bit coarse and grumpy I confess
But if you think that I'm too brazen or bold
Don't worry about it I'm just getting old!
This years holiday took us to Madeira
an island of exquisite beauty so rare
having a history rolling back decades
raising its inhabitants looking so fair
Columbus himself stepped on this land
before heading west, America to find
UK's war leader Churchill came to paint
loving the peaceful place W.C. signed
The capital Funchal truly majestic
a city with its own story centre
three dimensional shown all its history
richly blessed what could be better?
This island has indeed such a nice climate
throughout the year its warmth varies little
making its tourism of such high regard
it's an important priority no matter how brittle
The mountains and greenery so luscious
looking down on its boisterous sea
as well as its winds which do vary
even the aeroplane bows to freely agree
What a picture this land paints
with all its wine, fish and its fruit
all this excellence must be tasted
such richness grows at its very root
(Reflections of a recent holiday spent on the lovely island of Madeira near Portugal.)
Must stay close to the WC
Senior Montezuma is laughing hysterically
Thoroughly enjoying his revenge at my expense
Didn't drink the water but it made no difference
Been back home for almost a week now
No relief in sight
Getting skinnier by the minute
Looking kind of emaciated and if you believe that
Go some gorgeous swampland in Florida for ya
I'm sure you'll be interested in
Could starve myself for a couple of weeks
And the word, “emaciated” still wouldn't apply
I imagine Senior Montezuma is getting a big kick out of this
Kind of a sick sense of humour I would say!
© Jack Ellison 2014
PS MS US BS
AJ DJ OJ PJ
ER OR HR PR
JD MD OD VD
CBA DBA MBA NBA
AC BC DC JC
KC MC PC WC
BP DP KP TP
MP PP VP XP
BB CB OB TB
AM FM GM PM
A&M F&M M&M S&M
AJ BJ DJ JJ
KJ OJ PJ TJ
CTA MTA PTA RTA
APR CPR NPR R&R
CDT DDT EDT PDT
AMC FMC GMC PMC
ABC BBC NBC SBC
AC BC DC JC
FSU LSU MSU OSU
ASU BSU CSU ISU
MA ME MI MO
MN MS MK MJ!
Limerick crochetes : Once a Bull-Frog of a French Syndic
Part One
Once a Bull-Frog of a French Syndic
Croaked Janitress Porc-U-Pine music
She found much in common
With Janitress-Husband
They sucked Co-Proprietors' Council sick
Now Janitress had much lard to spare
Front back cheeks belly thighs but spare hair
So Bull-Frog humped her back
To keep her hair intact
Bull-Frog ate Porc-U-Pine falling hair
Now Co-Proprietors' presidents
Saved lots of hair-wilting rodents
Pipes stuffed with hairs pubic
Made proprietors sick
Porc-U-Pine made pubic wig from rodents
Yet Porc-U-Pine wailed all day and night
" How am I to keep flying my kite ?
Flying saucers see nought
On my scalp lives no thought ! "
Appealed to Town Hall Caïd for more might
" Porc-U-Pine, Dear, your sting I like best !
Can you this Injun now put to rest ? "
" Yes, Sir ! You know how well
Your words make my lard swell !
I'll put this Ol' Bum on acid test ! "
" I'll ask Syndic Bull-Frog to puff hard
Through his WC pipe under board
I'll stuff hoards of pubic hair
Plus more from rodents' lair
To force Ol' Bum to swim in building's turd ! "
" Now, My Darling Porc-U-Pine ! How nice
To know you and I share the same vice
Ask Mason Brother Police
To salute you, as-you-please
Kiss your cheeks up or under likewise ! "
Bull-Frog croaked : " She's under my orders !
No way I'll be made to suckle udders !
Tell the Lord President
I'm thick as she's cement
Nothing less than top Republic's honours ! "
© T. Wignesan - Paris, December 18, 2018
Täuschung
A very powerful German feminine noun that’s
replete in certain life situations with shades of
of deception, delusion, and illusion—which, in
turn, depend on certain circumstances and life
experiences which seek the situational power
and force that speaks to and shapes the very
nature of projected and expected outcomes in
another person’s favor or even another group’s
true intention and advantage as a move is made
for one to invariably “strike while the iron is hot,”
whilst ensuring that “all of the other pearls of no
value,” are conveniently cast out to “pigs” who
are the true losers and shall never possess the
real spoils at hand. If you have ever been lied
to, fooled, or deceived, then I am afraid you are
in the sad company of many others in life who
have been similarly affronted in a life’s run.
If this should be the case, I proffer to you, to
never forget the word Täuschung and its real,
teachable meaning in this instance. It’s worth
thinking about. After all, I might also add, that
the famous comedian, W.C. Fields, had once
so poignantly posited the following very famous
expression: “Never Give a Sucker an Even Break.”
Need I say more? I rest my case. Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 14, 2018 (Didactic)
Octobers are made of
Halloween Moons,
children in costumes
trick or treating,
carmel apples, hay rides
down country roads,
bonfires with close friends,
smells of pumpkin spices,
orange ,red, and brown
leaves crunch underfoot,
and the crisp breeze of fall
This is my October
Wc:44
Contrest: October in 45 words or less
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
Date 10/3/2019
the new maker’s
guarantee
promises that
after you pee
in a urinal or WC
push the button
or pull the handle
and all your sins
will flush away
One sister, one brother, one who’s something other
We haven’t worked out what he’s turned out to be
Stilettos and braces and tattoos in places
That shouldn’t be seen in polite company
And if you try to tie him down he’ll say, “I’m simply me,
And nothing you can say will bring me down.”
He stands up to piddle and aims for the middle
Of toilets in the ladies W.C.
A five o-clock shadow a voice like a laddo
Mascara the colour of ripe aubergine
He walks with a wiggle and talks with a giggle
And works at a centre for the elderly
Where everyone loves him and everyone trusts him
As he tends to their needs so compassionately
And if you try to tie him down he’ll say, “I’m simply me,
And nothing you can say will bring me down.”
An evening out thwarted, “Why weren’t you aborted,”
The thug said, “You ain’t what God meant you to be.”
But he wasn’t done and he pulled out a gun
The way that you live is offensive to me
The man, with a snigg*r caressing his trigger
Was alcohol slurred from a night on the town,
“This trigger, I’ll pull it and you’ll get a bullet!”
One bullet is what took my young ’other down
And as he lay there on the ground he muttered this to me,
“Don’t let others tie your spirit down.”
“There’s so many dying who lived their lives trying
To be what society said they should be,
But I wasn’t trying, so I lie here dying
Knowing that I lived my life being me.”
So with his last breath he accepted his death
I only hope that he made some people see
But every man dies and then he closed his eyes
A far bigger man than I ever shall be
And someone tried to bring him down but now he’s simply free
And nothing you can say will bring him down
UPON MY THRONE
A humorous ending.
I sit upon my throne, a lonely king.
What will I say, this day, to me did bring -
Happiness, more loneliness, more wealth
or poverty?
I sit upon my throne, a king in slings.
I sit upon my throne, a king alone.
Here where I sit, I do not have a phone.
If I loudly shouted, not a soul would
hear my words
As I sit here alone upon my throne.
I am the king of all my realms I see.
There is no one in my throne room but me.
I’m the king of my throne seat and you know, it’s
kind of neat –
Oh, well, I’m done -this bathroom now is free.
W.C. Hull © 2004-2022-068 (A)
There was so much rain in your voice.
Daytimes that slept with shadows.
Perfect perfidies piling
your W.C. Handy eight-bar bravado
I never knew your midnight,
your pluck of broken glass.
You told stories that left ash trays.
Burning,
burned,
ashes of bruised door frames
and sweaty bodies from emptying yourself
in emptier women.
Too many Lucille’s, but only one fire.
A slow burn
that taught only one thing worth saving:
nothing.
You taught us white boys that crying ain’t got nothing to do with tears.
That we can’t apologize for leaving our eyes in the alleyway.
That you can’t slam every door
without someone wanting to know
why the wind will always resist it.
Today is the first time the rain sounded soaked.
Like an old man
waiting for God to answer for his suffering.
Why he gave us a voice,
and why he made us weep for it.
And we end again,
that wilted sun of repetition.
That ghost finally appears;
that final E9 transuding through
the heavy breath you shake loose.
You undress every agony
and loved her
greater than pain.
And the night gave you
what God never grants us:
nothing.