OF WE AND THEY/EVEN US AND THEM! *
In the beginning
We were the architects
Of God’s designed world;
Then came them—
The devastating forces
Of its Garden Of Eden
Decline:-
We were the flowers
And fruits of the Garden;
Then they became
The slithering and coiling
Slime of disobedience
And disrespect:-
We were chosen
To teach cross bearing
With the Bearer thereof;
Then they—save Mark—
Tried to leave out
Our Simon Of Cyrene hue:-
As you read, my children,
Listen to these 83+ years
Old screaming words:
We must know that ourstory here,
Did not begin with their slavery!
They’re just lyingly implicated this,
In their fecal canvassing
Of their diuretic history:-
While we remain
The crucified oppressed,
And they, the crucifiers,
Realize our Ancestors
Ensured that we would be
Today’s resurrected ones;
Overcoming and ascending,
Memorial total liberation:-
Thus, it be between them
And us, in waning oppression
And waxing liberation;
We ascending the mountaintop,
Not as children of Sisyphus,
But, the ebony-hued of the Liberator:-
One champagne bottle to another:
I hope you won’t think me crass
for asking if you’re feeling bloated
with gas as I am, and millions of others.
Keep in mind our distress it’s not
a quirk of nature but a method
developed over years by vintners
and improved over the centuries:
the goal to change a good still wine
into a great prize winning champagne
with a worldwide fame for those rare
and special occassions when only
the finest champagne deserves to be
served. For eager party-goers
the excitement begins when the cork
is popped (a sometime dangerous
piece of work, by-the-way, especially
if the bottle was purposely shaken
for a special effect and the cork
released like a projectile fired
from a cannon and it lodges in
someone’s eye socket, God forbid!)
though the relief from years of
pent up gas for millions of us
bottles is immediate and not
unlike that urgency many
humans share when fecal matter
is long held back and with force
and effort is released – if you’ll
pardon the crude analogy.
It's a New Year again,
Time to turn another
page -- though I am
far from new~
closer to Old Sage.
Time to forgive...and let
go... -- as seasons flow
the cold of January
will leave our North~
Southern breeze will again
melt the snow, thawing
Nature's frostier thermostat --
(a subtle lesson in
there for all of us) --
Myself, never much for skiing --
having taste closer in line with toasty-sand
and dazzling-shore
however, no need to further bore anyone with
my own preference -- mindful that we all have
personal deference -- but more than enough
in fond common not to foolishly feel need to share any
affections not deemed innately neutral, amiably acceptable when
cordially meeting and passing -
My this year's resolution:
To make a little less fecal
pollution
to love a little more
a welcome mat not far from
the bell camera at the front
door --
I won't be naively foolish -- but maybe
a bit less frightfully ghoulish...
Ideally, we would flush
what is of little value –
wiser men and women
sending to the sewer
of time, putrid, fecal matter --
a byproduct common
to even the best
of societies...
lately, we elevate them
to higher orifice –
AT THE DUNG DINERS’ CLUB-
Dung beetles them there beetles ;
That feed on feces;
Some species of dung beetles;
Ooh! Yum just love that feces from all the species;
Can bury dung 250 times their own mass;
In one night those dungs love to not pass;
Also known as rollers, roll dung into round balls,
Which are used as a food source please pass the more;
Or breeding chambers;
Animal dung used for fertilizing lands and lawns so bitter;
Dung muck droppings, ordure guano;
Cowpats, cow chips, horse apples;
Compost, excrement, mulch maul
Buffalo chips, cow chips, Heee haw!
Cow plop's, meadow muffins, BM, Oh? crap;
Defecation, discharge;
Excrement, fecal matter, waste;
Feces feculence flux
Go to the bathroom, stool, number two
Poop the night soil
Swwhh,! ooh the airs so fowl
Egesta evacuations body waste
Says them there dung beetles give it a taste
Guess them dung is dung eating ya? Make haste(Oooh yum yah!)
7/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
DEADICATED VERSE TO Jan Allison AT THE DUNG DINERS CLUB
Wiping my butt with sandpaper
shredding the skin off my cheeks
inhaling my own fecal vapor
i bleed from my butt crack for weeks
Test icles
Female dog
Oral stimulation
Wood
Rectal insert
Bulb of the vestibule
Raccoon
Box
Ipipi
Del dool
Dike
Cigarette
Akkineni
Mouthification
Analingus
Fornication Under Consent of the King
Fudge factory worker
Gay
Ejacu late
Fleshy folds of skin
Handwarmer
Black person ethnic slur
Pene
Rose thorn puncture
Cono
Strange
Sack
Fecal matter
Promiscuous woman
Pluck
Pecho
Obnoxious person
Faighne
Master Baker
In the midst of myself I see all a named through a blame of crystal ball garbage self imposed heaps of anarchic monumental fever itches slowly coalescing compost inflaming frolicking one step beyond destitute drowned drained primal ascents like muted strands of character counts contents--a sugary benign bene-violence renewed every 4th year by death trite trickery, bumming freedoms long necked, sticky fingered bullet borrowed Bogart abandoners like cool coup indifferentials-----hangless gyrations coordinated catastrophizes counter culture aberrations seeming short changed a dimes worth of democracy voices foot and mouth disease we move through dead brain catheters dreaming of cellular open ranges of slack composures minus politico contractual ill tongued bilateral lobotomy laden binormals laying waste to unsecured raptures---dicey yet decidedly temporary but elipticaliplapsing any Gods forgiving truth and moral divergence by appetite arbitration. Hence a gamely time of fecal folly foot loose and fancy toe tag free---------all's well that entrails well.
Crap dung excrement;
Discharged BM;
Defecation discharge fecal matter;
~
Wasted number two;
Deuce feculence faces manure;
Poop muck droppings ordure;
~
Guano guand cowpats
Dung know
4/26/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
I was leanin' on the fence slurpin' a mug o' joe,
Admirin' my neighbor's garden and watchin' Harry hoe.
"Harry, Harry", I asked, "What makes yer garden grow?"
"I spread oodles of fecal matter on each and ever' row!"
Clyde spent an afternoon guzzlin' Coors in his neighborhood saloon.
He swore he saw a cat play a fiddle and a cow jump over the moon!
He was so sozzled that he was taken to a clinic to recover from his swoon,
And it was there that he was certified to be wackier than a loon!
Humpty Dumpty fell from a balcony splattered upon the street below!
Was he shoved, was he soused or suffered an untimely bout of vertigo?
He was a fairly 'bad' egg from what is heard from pals in the know.
It was just 'rotten' luck that his fragile shell couldn't withstand the blow!
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner devourin' a large pizza pie.
He furtively sipped some brew and was gettin' rather high!
His momma was aghast at such behavior and confiscated the beer.
"Just wait 'til yer Pa gets home" said she and boxed him on the ear!
(Praise God)…
A fly dropped
into my soup—drowning.
Down the drain
I poured—watching an old lady
digging through the garbage…
I puked as she ate the stale bread
thrown away the day before.
Yes…my life…
has had its fecal moments …
has not been like a bed of roses—
Yet …it ain’t been flushed down the toilet.
...and the warnings rang strong
...and the cauldron wheezed
...and the magma lapped at strapping branches,
genetically equipped, with a passion,
for protecting the bulb
...and the poet rhymed on
...and the emperor, Nero, has resurfaced
...and the swinging, singing, stinging swarm
cycled back
...and the funk of it reached fecal proportions,
surpassing sweetness of rotting racoons
on the roadside
...and the poet rhymed on.
A fly dropped
into my soup;
drowning.
Down the drain I poured,
watching an old lady
digging through the garbage.
I puked as she ate
the stale bread
I had thrown away.
Yes, my life has had its fecal moments;
and hasn’t been like a bed of roses; but
at lease it ain’t been flushed down the toilet.
Darkness Descends
The Prince of Darkness beckons, as you slowly suffocate...
And demons devour and await, you’re sacrificial screaming soul...
The crow caws amidst the noxious nilpotent night,
Perched upon tombstones that drip with blood and pain...
Barren breaths amongst the ambient anguish of the lachrymal lost,
The air stale with corpses laid and tossed in oblivion...
In their decay, the stench of decomposing death clutches at your throat.
A fecal float you fade to black before the Horsemen...
Prepare for their final attack, in your lingering lonely lament,
Shadow soldiers sent for your demise...you bow and accept.
The crow flaps its wings...and as you try to escape you feel the stings of the anchored and abandoned...
Servants of sorrow your only friends,
For thus the Darkness extends beyond space and time...
Sept.12.2017
In The Dark
Sponsored by: Russell Sivey
A poet once went without shaving
About his beard no one was raving
They all screamed, “Fecal stuff,
from Cooties in the buff!”
Went after him with razors waving!
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