Long Excreted Poems
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otherwise wordily titled: pooped out
after pouring bucketfuls of water into
place of ablutions
all the while skipping to my loo
umpteen times courtesy bathtub faucet
turned toward hot temperature
so toilet would finally,
magnificently, and royally flush.
As ofttimes occurred in the past
anonymous reader's time
I once again promise to waste
concerning asinine verbiage
without this bard **** feeling shamefaced
broadcasting his fealty
to posterior predilections must appear
(as rearing to volley rebuttal
against fans of mine) yours truly
ofttimes discusses that byproduct,
which issues out buttucks) narrow-based
if not downright banal, gross, offal... in haste
to craft something more philosophical
how craven potty talk
whereby theme doth self debase.
I excreted a bowel movement
earlier today June 5th, 2022
substantial enough to sink battleship
(maybe ye experienced tsunami after effects)
laboriously dumping bucketfuls of hot water
insync with applying plunger found me a drip
with perspiration, and would have possibly found
site manager and/or maintenance man to flip
(a rare sight to behold
worth inconvenience of clogged toilet bowl),
which yours truly felt strain in back muscles
as he poured bucketfuls of water from his hip
accidentally splashing water
on bathroom floor
yes your honor
(necessitating poop deck to evacuate)
if thee choose to sit in judgeship
but please be mindful
to restrain giving me any lip
cuz atypical dilemma I figuratively did nip
in the bud, yet foresee similar outcome
sure as this...
once upon a sage, rosemary and parsnip
herbaceous generic fellow sought readership
ideally landing webbed wide world trip
heralded all along as a V.I.P.
where fanfare for this common man
would find his doggerel
induced listeners to yip.
Unswerving in your sincere actions,
stating the main purpose of intentions;
no venom is excreted from enlarged veins
without the fear of horrific moments!
Be grateful for the ample kindness shown,
never a trace of bitter sentiment or a frown;
eyes tear when crossing over the deep abyss
with the hesitation to discover its darkness!
Woeful are the darkest secrets kept to oneself,
when they're confessed they can be a relief;
pluck roses from their stems without bleeding:
thorns were Christ's crown proclaiming Him king!
Persistence is such a fortitude stronger than gold,
give someone a stone instead of sweet bread:
he will speedily fling it back and seek revenge;
treat everybody fairly and nobody will ever cringe!
Be infallible in your ultimate quest for beneficial change,
remain loyal to your peers, avoid conflict and treason;
if unfair judgment is implemented, let God be the judge:
sequels end when the pile of lies crumbles in soggy rain!
Faith binds spirit and heart to pursue holiness,
be a deviant and bear the direst consequences;
religion imposes punishment, society never does:
does freedom mean to do whatever one pleases?
The growth was not in the ring,
but in the rot.
It began with a refusal: the pot, a tyranny of ceramic.
The roots, pale serpents, began to press.
A fine, hairline crack, a fracture in the logic of containment.
This was the first transgression.
Then, the soil itself grew tired of being soil.
It dreamed of being air, of being skin.
It fell away in a slow, granular sigh,
exposing the pale, pulsing truth of the anchor.
The growth was not a reaching, but an un-becoming.
Leaves inverted, photosynthesis in reverse.
They drank the shadow, excreted a thin, bitter light.
The stem, a gnarled question mark, twisted back upon itself,
learning the syntax of its own distortion.
It did not seek the sun. It became a sun,
a small, cold, black-dwarf star of a thing,
pulling the light into its own peculiar gravity.
The growth was in the rupture.
A petal, sharp as a scalpel, sliced the humid air.
The scent was not of perfume, but of ozone and rust,
the smell of a new law being written.
It outgrew the category of "flower,"
outgrew the word "bloom."
It was a system of tensions, a beautiful error replicating.
The gardener, with his water and his stakes, wept.
He called it a malignancy, a failure to thrive.
But the plant was thriving in a language he could not hear—
the loud, silent frequency of a thing that has broken its vessel
and found itself larger, stranger, and more complete
in the open air of its own making.
That neighbour has just banged his door.
Again yet again and yet again.
I, a one of superior quality, wish to beat
his barking bonce against the wall of his rathole.
But there’d be no grey matter
to dribble down the concrete.
An ugly slimy mush would not be excreted
from that crumbly, crinkly, brainless brainpan.
No brainbox there to squirt the grey stuff!
Oh, what do I experience?
A swirly-whirly precognition of a pleasurable
banging of that brain that isn’t there?
Do I not wish to tear it into shreds?
Funny how feral thoughts burst into one’s mind.
Again yet again and yet again, this superior
wants to beat and bounce that barking bonce.
(17 Sep 2024)
The spring wrestled the grain of sand
And scattered it free floating in the
Whirlwind on natures’ crystal spring
A tiny bird swept in to sip a drink
A dazzled by the floating grain
Tasted it and swallowed it and now
Airborne the grain of sand traveled
To a field of blueberries and flowers
And the bird now hungry ate of the
Berries and some of the insects
And excreted the grain of sand
And the skies opened and the rains
Came and the tiny grain of sand
Became lodged against a great rock
The sun came out and dried the
Tiny grain of sand and it adhered
To the big rock and now it was no longer
A tiny grain of sand but a big rock
And if felt fulfilled and powerful
And thankful and complete.
Detailing delicate defecation debacle
Otherwise wordily titled: pooped out
after pouring bucketfuls of water into
place of ablutions
all the while skipping to my loo
umpteen times courtesy bathtub faucet
turned toward hot temperature
so toilet would finally,
magnificently, and royally flush.
As ofttimes occurred in the past
anonymous reader's time
I once again promise to waste
concerning asinine verbiage
without this bard **** feeling shamefaced
broadcasting his fealty
to posterior predilections must appear
(as rearing to volley rebuttal
against fans of mine) yours truly
ofttimes discusses that byproduct,
which issues out buttucks) narrow-based
if not downright banal, gross, offal... in haste
to craft something more philosophical
how craven potty talk
whereby theme doth self debase.
I excreted a bowel movement
moments ago today April 11th, 2024
at approximately two thirty post meridian
substantial enough to sink battleship
(maybe ye experienced tsunami after effects)
laboriously dumping bucketfuls of hot water
insync with applying plunger found me a drip
with perspiration, and would have possibly found
site manager and/or maintenance man to flip
(a rare sight to behold
worth inconvenience of clogged toilet bowl),
which yours truly felt strain in back muscles
as he poured bucketfuls of water from his hip
accidentally splashing water
on bathroom floor
yes your honor
(necessitating poop deck to evacuate)
if thee choose to sit in judgeship
but please be mindful
to restrain giving me any lip
cuz atypical dilemma I figuratively did nip
in the bud, yet foresee similar outcome
sure as this...
once upon a sage, rosemary and parsnip
herbaceous generic fellow sought readership
ideally landing webbed wide world trip
heralded all along as a V.I.P.,
where fanfare for this common man
enjoying Appalachian Spring,
would find his doggerel
induced listeners to yip.
With our present world encapsulated
In a shell of abject tragedy, it’s becoming
Painfully difficult to pen pleasurable words
Of the beautiful glow of the graces of nature
As that of humankind blooms dark graveness:-
Today, declining humor, splendor, and praising,
Are at their lowest ebb on the shores of time as
Pandora’s Box continues to overflow pandemonium
Leaving us floating in waters of war meandering with
Spewed murdered blood of innocent human life…flowing.
Once again, a devilish power-mongering oppressor
Audaciously justifies mass murdering of women, men,
And their innocent children; mendaciously taking pride
In physical and mental collateral damages excreted by war
In the droppings of cesspool bombings from the butt of hell:-
Yet, despite the present-day earthly living hell
We now find ourselves blistering in, let us not melt
Into apathetic despair and hopelessness; but faithfully
Believe the truth-laden resounding echoing of these words:
“…Whatsoever man soweth, so shall he reap.”
Indeed, let us forever be mindful that in our sojourn here,
“Every event…[challenge]…is a…[revealing lesson]…from God.”
And that each of these events comes with an allegorical message
Which when perceived and understood, we’re again blessed
And become enlightened with divine wisdom and guidance.
May the divine wisdom and guidance reveal unto us,
The foot-printed pathway for us---with no more cheeks
To turn but yet---seek not to become Satan’s little devils;
For the nature and keloid scares of our oppression, reveals
Today, the Devil and his own, indeed “…know what they do.”
Concubine thine;
tasteful of mediocrity
Like crushed acidic vine
a misplaced favour
Pseudo credit bliss
sold without honour
Like soured wine.
Your pride
Was without fine
no token paid
You re stolen water
exchange on you was never bargained made
I scent you stolen waters
You sure stinks
like gutters
courtesy
ideas you mates
she but a crushed juicy
You came with a bag of a stranger
I saw you like a crushed fermented citrus,
he sipped of you, you ate up union
in the home of another you fermented
Later you excreted mild commotion
As you tasted
like honey made from crushed sugar perfected deception
Now Samson in chains of you love
With cold hands like vipers juice
You held him tight
Gave him bat's eyes
You crushed his eyes
like red mixed wine in an artist drawings
Crushed into a frame with calmness
to bring aches to his loins
You gaze fully with cost
tearing apart
foundations of his lust
Though seem more attractive
than the home mate
eyes so seductive
tops like mountains
lollipop lips
tongue like fountains
he sees her
through blindness
of her stair
soothing and calm
but her end
is charm slam
Now Achilles is crushed
You deep blue sea.
Like little boat he floated on you
You turned an iceberg
And without control crushed him apart
Made him a derailed train
ignited coals to kill
Like a man's beard
He burning
like bread.
O concubine
Of thine
End
Is a dark tunnel.
And the men
You be crushed
21/4/2020
US AND THE STATE OF THE WORLD
With our present world encapsulated
In a shell of abject tragedy, it’s becoming
Painfully difficult to pen pleasurable words
Of the beautiful glow of the graces of nature
As that of humankind blooms dark graveness:-
Today, declining humor, splendor, and praising,
Are at their lowest ebb on the shores of time as
Pandora’s Box continues to overflow pandemonium
Leaving us floating in waters of war meandering with
Spewed murdered blood of innocent human life…flowing.
Once again, a devilish power-mongering oppressor
Audaciously justifies mass murdering of women, men,
And their innocent children; mendaciously taking pride
In physical and mental collateral damages excreted by war
In the droppings of cesspool bombings from the butt of hell:-
Yet, despite the present-day earthly living hell
We now find ourselves blistering in, let us not melt
Into apathetic despair and hopelessness; but faithfully
Believe the truth-laden resounding echoing of these words:
“…Whatsoever man soweth, so shall he reap.”
Indeed, let us forever be mindful that in our sojourn here,
“Every event…[challenge]…is a…[revealing lesson]…from God.”
And that each of these events comes with an allegorical message
Which when perceived and understood, we’re again blessed
And become enlightened with divine wisdom and guidance.
May the divine wisdom and guidance reveal unto us,
The foot-printed pathway for us with no more cheeks
To turn but yet, seek not to become Satan’s little devils;
For the nature and keloid scares of our oppression, reveals
Today, the Devil and his own, indeed “…know what they do.”
A man sitting on a toilet seat giving strength to his belly,
though resting his chin on his hand imitating the thinker
who is sitting in front of the gate of hell with deep thoughts,
naked on the bottom-half because he couldn't get completely naked
like the thinker, excretes waste from his body.
Although the waste excreted from his body can be flushed out
it may alleviate him for a while, the belly still is a bit uneasy
from the accumulated evil thoughts he kept in his body for years,
won't be able to flush out.
That's why the toilet seat starts to crack,
and because overly abusing the lower body
the pain creeps up from the bottom of the pit,
and that would be the entrance to the little hell.
If you see it from another angle, you can say that
the water from the toilet is the water of Lethe, which
will merge into Elysium, and therefore it may be Utopia;
then why squat down on the toilet seat troubled.
It's rather interesting to watch life,
since he is unable to filter the root of the larger hell
that is lurking somewhere in his body, though,
he fell into own dodge, condemning the lower belly,
unable to leave the toilet.
You are a weary wanderer going after a soul that drifted away;
you are a befogged soul facing hell but turning away from it,
and anchored the weight of your mind to the hell that is
on the other side of the world, sniffing a nauseous smell of sulfur
bubbling up from the bottom of the deep sea.
You are a wounded charger dashing aimlessly through the midst
of the smoke of battle and the rain of bullets, therefore, though
you have a mane you are unable to rise or call the wind, yet carrying
a self-conceited pedant who favors the use of unfamiliar words and
invents odd phrases to show-off on your back.
Why don't you, instead of pacing in hell,
swallow a handful of powder to help loosen the bowels excrete
the layer after layers of evil thoughts and the heaps of wastes
accumulated in the body for decades.