Long Fecal Poems
Long Fecal Poems. Below are the most popular long Fecal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fecal poems by poem length and keyword.
Defecation clogged toilet bowl courtesy metamucil..
and found (me) zee papa pooped out
**** eyes zing thee
nightly dump for yesterday
July 8th, 2020 - whereby
plunger helped obstruction give way
I nearly lost me life and limb oy vey
oh my dog, the same asinine outcome
which spurred poet to get underway
matter of fact, a replay
of excretion almost occurred today
and thus an attempt to describe
a tragicomic scenario
regarding bowel movement size of subway
overflowing potty nearly
found yours truly quay
king, yet impossible mission
arises to portray
unsightly situation, the
juvenile elements of style
I hate to overplay
odoriferous subject matter
nsync with constipation
since laxative delineates,
expedites, facilitates,... née
posits heavy load emanating out rectum
quite amazing what smelly waste
exits out me
necessitating captain my captain
to signal mayday
posterior end, a dime size orifice,
which malfunctioning sphincter muscles
one moost never be lackaday
'though kids and adults
laughed back in the day,
if and/or when Danny Kaye
tactfully poked fun
at such critical bodily phenomenon
equally important as a jackstay
to keep afloat body electric
'curse with auxiliary
linkedin kickstarting jazzmatazz interplay
analogously precise as
Swiss made timepiece
said system responsible
to expel bodily toxins
upon which sitting on porcelain throne
one can softly utter hooray
thankful to experience relative pleasure
until one becomes feeble minded,
whereat fifty plus shades of gray
matter allows, enables, and
provides enjoyably foray
into the bathroom, which entranceway
hoop fully not barred nor off limits
cuz that primitive urge one best not delay
lest one requires lower
gastrointestinal intervention
especially if blocked up
fecal matter turns to clay
unless of course one doth
cause damage and betray
respect toward well
oiled human machine
exercising and eating healthy
avoiding backside skeleton musculature issues
yes... I reckon during twilight years
control over bowels doth slip away.
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock attached via usb
(uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement
incontinence + gas filled gut evoking contortionist
frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess
where elimination did jut held captive hostage
atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder
obstruction as canon gun size BALLS did spurt
lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation
whereby prayer a waste delivered only increased
sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable
constriction in arrears finding me unable
to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary
with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest
delivered this message via fax
to help this male in dire per situation getting
pam purred poop unstuck with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs
DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
And thus began their heroic journey through the fantastical labyrinth of the escape room, where every twist and turn carried the promise of freedom, laughter, and the unforeseen—the perfect remedy for chaos and an unexpected road trip back to normalcy. After all, in a place where even a bunny could be a hero, and a Man is a Woman, anything was possible. Even a Media run Presidential Campaign supported by Big Tech, Google and the FBI !
As Penney and Gus entered the vibrant escape room, the door clicked shut behind them, "Penney parted from the impending loom, weaving her curiosity in a gape driven plume; punctuating the chaotic symphony of the mall with a sense of immediate sanctuary. The room was a kaleidoscope of interesting colors, smells—walls adorned with whimsical murals of enchanted forests, floating bubbles, and scattered stars. Even some Left Wing styled fecal graffiti, as if plastered from the hand to Trump sign out of TDS. It felt like stepping into another world, far removed from the madness outside. A home away from home !
“Okay, what’s the first clue?” Gus asked, glancing around at the eclectic decorations, which ranged from giant inflatable mushrooms to shimmering disco balls. They needed to think fast, and the first challenge awaited like a Mother given the news that the police would be escorting her child home after a bonus round of shoplifting at Castle Megastore had landed her in the "Stoney Loaf".
“Over there!” Penney exclaimed, pointing to a large, comically oversized egg perched precariously atop a pedestal. “There’s bound to be something inside!”
They approached cautiously, the soft thump of their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that crunched as they stroke on, I mean strode on, apparently-designed to match the room's carnival theme or was it Carnivaal, Carnibaal? No matter, with a gentle push, Gus nudged the egg, and it wobbled dangerously before them. A creaky voice echoed from within, making them jump.
“Beware the wrath of the bouncing bunny, and tell Nanceycat to invest in BlackRock!”, it croaked, before the egg split open, revealing a tangle of colorful ribbons and a single, glittering key.
“Perfect!” Penney cheered, plucking the key from the chaos. “Let’s see what it unlocks.” She scanned the walls for a keyhole, eyeing an intricate door covered in glowing glyphs.
It’s lonely here, at the top,
the manure high and much
to shovel; fertilizer on sale
today! My family business,
hauling and distributing animal,
fecal slop – pungent every
route and obligatory stop...
Quite enterprising to make
good use, of what they eat
and freely let loose --
all nature born to recycle --
?~Wonder if the soul resents what it knows,
the scented consumption of bodies kills
what it grows --
knows what it uses (a generation)
to make love and
strife (life the fickle-begetter of life)
leaves from behind such an
odious spice… Clouds form,
sky spits and rains – man eats,
drinks, sh’ts on all mountains,
in seas on rolling plains. Seems,
no-matter what man produces
involves decay and pile of stink --
When God planned His evolving nature,
did He perhaps have occasion to burp, pinch His Nose,
fart and blink?
He wears the cross upon his chest,
And speaks of heaven’s cure,
Yet turns the hand that ought to bless
To wield despair and death.
By dozens sent, they fall, they die,
Beneath his pious claim,
While God’s own life is swept aside,
And they live and bear no shame.
Can faith abide where blood is spilled,
Where mercy bows to might?
I do not know—but still I fear,
There, coming to the light.
For in the dark, their hands still try to reach,
Each soul now whispers true,
A fleeting thought, in quiet speech,
Breaks through the fecal stench the air.
Yet still I ask, with hard pressed dread,
Can we survive such sin?
I do not know, for they are wed
To hipprocracy and what inside it holds.
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
CYRUS "THE VIRUS" IS EVERYWHERE.
WREAKING HAVOC WITHOUT ANY CARE.
BORN OUT OF WEDLOCK BETWEEN SLIME AND MOLD.
MORPHS HIS WAY THROUGH LIFE I'M TOLD.
BIRDS AND PLANTS, TREES AND PEOPLE.
HIS GOAL IN LIFE IS TO TURN ALL INTO FECAL.
WICKEDLY MEAN, TREACHEROUS DISEASE.
TRAVELS THE WORLD AND DO AS HE PLEASE.
HE'LL INFECT A NATION AND THEN HE'LL FLEE.
APPEAR SOMEWHERE ELSE AS A TICK OR A BEE.
MASTER OF DISGUISE, MANY DIFFERENT FACES.
ALL OVER THE WORLD IN ODD AND STRANGE PLACES.
HOT ON HIS HEELS IS THE WORLD CDC.
THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND AND ASK HOW CAN THIS BE.
HE CONTAMINATES WATER, INFECTS YOUR MIND.
DON'T TURN YOUR BACK, HE'LL INFECT YOUR BEHIND.
HE THINKS IT'S A JOKE.
TO HIM IT'S A GAME.
HE EVEN APPEARED IN THE FORM ACID RAIN.
CDC, WILL CATCH HIM ONE DAY.
UNTIL THAT TIME COMES, HE'LL HAVE HIS OWN WAY.
THEY'LL CATCH HIM ONE DAY AND BOTTLE HIM TIGHT.
THAT SHOULD SUFFICE AND SERVE HIS CRIMES RIGHT.
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:-
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!