Long Latrine Poems
Long Latrine Poems. Below are the most popular long Latrine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Latrine poems by poem length and keyword.
PERSERVERANCE BREEDS SUCCESS
Jss One was an insult, I cried
Like time should hit full stop,
My breakfast was sweet without
Salt,
My parents tasted like this evil
Citrus,
I continued to hide like Air Force
Was only for my seniors.
Jss Two arrived with the wind called
Releave
I began to breath as an aspiring king
Now I believe the race would definitely
Finish.
Jss Three was the mighty season
Everyday had a sweet beginning
Suddenly the queen became pretty
As boys begin to fill big,
Every Sunday I was in the dining hall
To clean wasted beans,
The brown Khaki now fits my tiny skin.
Never did I forget the mighty JSCE.
Ss1, trousers became the big deal,
I was also a victim for every ss3's
Laundry,
Morning duty was almost ending,
Up keep of the latrine was attached to
Me.
Inter house games had huge meaning
These was the day to show all my special
Skills
And entice that pretty queen,
As we stroll through freedom tree
Dangling the box room's key,
My sunday wear now had this profound whitish Glimpse.
At ss2, I became a commissioned officer
I began to predict the whether,
Even during holidays, I dreamt of returning
To my headquarters,
In Jaguar I had two lockers.
In Dornier my friends sent invites for
Dinner
Alpha wasn't my regular signal,
She whipped me in basketball finals.
I measured my days and wised there
Could be an alternative taste
But JPE was the key to unlock ss3 dreams.
Been a finalist was like magic
Today I float on the atlantic
As I scream 'ONE BOY'
The hostel begins to panic
Ariku becomes my transit
I trained this special team of bandits
So I had a contraband producing factory.
The days now had wings
Time flew without traffic.
My ink recollect's like she was a five
Minutes conference meeting,
Many couldn't climb this Iroko
For sex seasons.
Today, am not only an ALUMNI
But an harden fresh corrosive lime
Ready to swim under river Nile's eye.
AFCS is high in the sky
With the flying colors that now
Leave in my life.
KEYWORDS:
Jss_ junior secondary
SS: Senior secondary
Jsce: Junior secondary certificate examination
Jpe: Joint promotion examination.
Ariku: A small town in Iwo,Ibadan,Nigeria.
Khaki: A thick brown material
AFCS: Air Force Comprehensive School.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
In the padded cell of my confinement I think and feel and slide
Down a slope of reason and emotion dressed in gloves and mask
I am rebel but in times of these I learnt to follow orders and abide
Though staying sane other than my normal lunacy remains a task
I am a rubber ball in stagnant motion bouncing back inside four walls
A ricochet master in training who gathers speed in pinball fashion
Take out my slingshot and ponder where when and if the rebound falls
No prisoner restrained by mental shackles and full of uninhibited passion
Immured and isolated as an island's rock I gather humility and gratitude
Because I happen to have the privilege of a home to be locked up in
Play with marbles in my mind sorting memories that have been skewed
Throw socks and knickers from my afar bed straight into the laundry bin
Boredom is just another word for lacking ingenuous fantasy or inspiration
The price of segregation and detachment is very small if one has shelter
With fire place and running water well beyond most people's expectation
When the so called global village is euphemistic for chaotic helter-skelter
Playing darts the arrow of injustice flies straight into a bull's eye's scream
The chess board that revives my tedium contains a set of weary pawns
But I am fortunate to be locked down or up together with my Fairy Queen
My lover soul mate best friend ever who shares my moods from dusk to dawn
How could I dare to complain about my situation of comfort in such quarantine
It's easy to dust the shelves when reading every book before you put it back
Not to mention rather tongue in cheek that I have loo rolls and my own latrine
All I have to do is stay at home and write my poems during the virus' attack
Duress of incarceration with washed hands and coughs into a healthy elbow
But cubital hygiene so to speak will not affect my articulation for any length
I promise sincerely that my words will not be sanitized as I condense my flow
Times could be better but rising to a challenge concentrates one's real strength
02nd March 2020
Quarantine Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
S€CRET $OCIETIES
There it was on the internet for the world to see
“the secrets of the masons and secret societies.”
There were names and there were dates and details by the score
till the secret of their secrets weren’t secret anymore.
With exposés and videos getting multimillion hits
it was a tell-all, underground, middle finger pointing blitz.
It was Rothschild in the cross hairs, with that cover blown,
stripped of all the subterfuge in a youtube fire zone.
It was fortress Rockefeller, in a state of compromise
from an info-insurrection, revolution on the rise!
We know it’s the illuminate, Bilderburgers and all those
who run the worlds economies causing all the woes.
You control the central banks and the flow of fiat cash,
creating all the global debt and every economic crash.
It’s you who finance all the wars, and fund the leaders who
would enslave their populations for a buck or two.
It’s your endless stream of front men exploding in the news
while you lurk behind the scenes igniting every fuse.
And with your greedy fingers in everybody’s pies,
you drive the world to poverty and create a global sty.
It’s known your claim is that you are kings of ancient royal birth
and somehow that entitles you, to dominion over earth.
Though you have the power, with hidden technology,
to remedy all the ills of the worlds ecology,
you choose to keep it buried, without the least remorse,
and leave the earth to fester in the wake of your course.
You could make this world an Eden, so pure and so clean,
but like the thoughts within their mind, you make it a latrine.
it’s time to end your bloodlines, it’s time to break the chain,
it’s time to free this dying world from your terror reign.
And though you have vast arsenals, spies and sordid plots
the truth is much more powerful than anything you’ve got.
And it is just a little mouse, an arrow and screen
that will put an end to you and all of your regime.
That old wooden box that we nailed to a plank
The pram in the ditch that required a good yank
All that we needed was front and back wheels
We wouldn’t need brakes for we had rubber heels
The front wheels we fixed with some bent-over nails
At that point we didn’t think we would need sails
The back wheels meant even more nails needed bending
And soon there’d be holes in our jeans needing mending
For steering we tied on a length of old rope
I still wonder now how that rope never broke
At the brow of the hill with a push for a start
I lost all control of that ramshackle cart
I laugh at it now, for the memory’s fond
I wasn’t amused when I ditched in the pond
To save face I said that that’s what I intended
And then said my cart racing exploits have ended
For here there’s an ‘ocean’ and here there is wood
So let’s build a boat and let’s build it real good
We mounted a mast with a very big nail
And Grandma’s best bath towel was used as a sail
From Granddaddy’s shed some string gave it tension
And then I said this boat I name ‘The Detention’
We’d left all the wheels on, it looked kinda hideous
But I wasn’t daft, I had made it amphibious
Our boat’s maiden voyage now had to ensue
But this time, for ballast, I grabbed me a crew
I yelled ‘All aboard’ and me and my brother
Set off with Freddie… (the head is his mother)
If I had been older I’d claim I was drunk
When we hit the water the bloody thing sunk
Covered in mud we smelt like a latrine
And I said ‘Hey lads, it’s a submarine’
But we knew the head wouldn’t be too amused
And soon in her office we all stood accused
She spoke in a tone that you might call sardonic
Our naval past includes vessels iconic
Your boat has made Freddie look like a drowned rat
You called it ‘Detention’… that’s ironic that
10 November 2021
For A Noteworthy ship contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Taking the usual amount of pills,
I place my bottled water on the window sill,
climbing into my comfy sanctuary,
hoping that sleep would be satisfactory,
Staring at the darkness waiting for sleep,
my mind started imagining things that give me the creeps,
shadows on the walls taking on a weird shape,
that one in particular looking like a snake,
Shouldn't have watched that snake in the toilet on the internet,
now I'll have nightmares that I'll always regret,
have to get up right now and use the john,
if theres a snake in my toilet I pray that he's gone,
Putting my bathrobe quickly on,
I tiptoe over to the ominous john,
thank God theres a night light on in there,
but the illuminated toilet gives me the chills,
I walk over and slowly lift the lid,
thinking theres a 50% chance I'll get killed,
gazing into the depths of the latrine,
something grazes my foot and I let out a scream,
My one son comes running out of his room,
says, "whats wrong Mom?" like I'm some kind of loon,
then I look down at my bare feet,
it was my bathrobe tie that had grazed me,
After finishing up in the loo,
I finally fall asleep to my mindset on reptiles at the zoo,
going to work next day drowsy from snakes on my mind,
my boss had to show me something as he was inclined,
Bringing me over to one of the packing stations,
he pointed out a foot long black curled up fixation,
backing away I said how'd that snake get in here,
he said, " Cheryl its just a piece of plastic, have no fear!"
Maybe one day I'll get over my fear of snakes,
but till then I'll watch every step that I take,
for fear I'll have a repeat of that fateful day,
when I was out hiking and two big ones were in the way.
2-19-17
Mildred
1. Like the flick of a brush to a canvas, her world was tainted by his love. Barely psychotic.
Led by the armor he wore, she rose like a phoenix. It was fierce and unapologetic.
His crooked smile and throaty laugh lulled her in, a fresh breath of summer.
She raised her kids in absence, somehow forgot how to be a mother.
2. She sought his love like a needle in a haystack while he wove the hair of another.
She ignored us when we were hungry and depressed, when in the arms of his father.
In the presence of the Lord, she asked for an heir—a blood clot connection,
Wanting something much deeper than the bond between a father and a son. A transparent deception.
3. One, two, three miracle strips down the latrine basket. "Better luck next time," she sighed.
She spent nights under tents of stars, wishing for a shooting star instead.
Oh, Kindred!
One, two, three years our hearts were fleshed out by silence and betrayal.
Mother's treasoned to blatant denial.
4. Placing the phone on your bed, awaiting his calls?
For sure, the second Dad is not coming back!
How do I explain to my siblings?
His phone had not been hacked.
5. Karma is a , always whining in her free time.
Mom lost her greatest battle, without ever going to war or searching for mine.
The haunting truth shone in our unalike faces.The second dad was never ours.
And she should not act with bias.
6. A woman and three children he secretly had,
And the eldest and prettiest was called Mildred.
My mom lives in oblivion, their father in the naive arms of his l'amour de la vie.
“Heady heights..bright neon lights..giddy delights
Arsonists torching the Indian empire
Reputations scorching..awash with brilliant whites
Gilded generation ire… spoils soiled in an oily quagmire
Sailing the conquest crest..Kiwi veneration..scaling Test Everest
Perturbed…wondrous walloping to disturbed lolloping..absurdly dire
Otherworldly umami of the Barmy Army tsunami
Marauding sneers trumpet.. foolish career nadirs..retire
Ghoulish gravity..devoured by a glutinous abyss
Bazball belter depravity..sensationally soured bucolic bliss
Hoodwinking..hasten Black caps helter skelter sinking
Downed & drowned in a bottomless basin..stinking
Hilariously or nefariously bombastic
Bellicose blows vicariously fantastic
Lambasted & larruped..willow wizards’ blizzards
Scary..leery…Kiwis dreary..wary..weary
Boisterously babbling record book pleasing Brook..
Febrile lairy timber & turnstile teasing fairy
Frazzled dreams bedazzled by pyrotechnic memes
Peacocking cavorting with shocking ripsnorter slaughter
Lampooned buffoons marooned…as Jaffas deliriously spill.. festooned just like Seville
Bazball booming batting baritones..delicious blooming blossom
Vicious..nailed..pernicious.. flailed like an impaled pesky possum
Stranded in a leaking latrine…Baz branded..reeking of what could have been
Outrageously courageous…ridiculously sublime at the same time
Flat track thuggery fortuitously free from spin skulduggery?
Cosy club snubs…mandarins’ selectorial sins?
It’s coming home..it’s coming..in Welly on the telly..what we have seen
Prodigal Bazball from South D has already well & truly been"
There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!
You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!
He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!
Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!
Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!
Oh no theres something alien in my stomach
something which want's very badly to come up
it's 4:30 in the morning and I feel very queasy
as I slide out of bed feeling quite uneasy
Was it something I chewed…right now I haven't a clue...
Making it to the latrine I put up the lid
psyching myself up as I get a grip
feeling like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt
and like that girl from the Exorcist as I empty my gut
I'm a hurly girly…giving my ufos a swirly…
As I slide back into bed I have a trusty pail
just in case I have to vomit again with the wind force of a gale
surprisingly I don't but still feel quite sick
so I call into work and explain to them very quick
My stomach is in knots and twists…would someone please call me an exorcist...
Then later my son say's Mom you look so pale
and goes out and buys me some Verner's ginger ale
I take a couple of sips and think maybe this will do the trick
but then about an hour later the vomiting doesn't quit
I need to be quarantined…very close to the latrine...
Alternating between the volcano eruptions and number two
I felt like a very sick zombie with an unkempt hairdo
wondering if it was something toxic that I had ate
I think maybe I should write my will out before its too late
My toilet and I have now formed a lasting bond…an inanimate object which I've grown quite fond...
But here it is the next morn and I ate some breakfast
hoping that it will stay in my stomach and last
I guess what I had was a 24 hour bout of the flu
glad its over now as I bid the stomach flu adieu.
I'm so glad we're through flu…oh no…..A…a..a-choo!!!
3-13-18
Let not your heart be troubled by the recruiter's garrulous spiel!
After all, he's paid to embellish army life to offer you a fabulous deal!
When he called you 'private' you assumed there'd be privacy in store.
Never mind that you must share the latrine with fifty guys or more!
Make it a policy to eat all the curious grub the cooks slop on your tray!
Compliment the mess sarge - it might defer you from KP for another day!
Tell your sarge his wife is lovely - though she's as homely as Hooligan's goat!
He is certain to acclaim your acumen and a three-day pass he's apt to float!
Always appear busy - walk around with a clipboard in hand wearing a frown.
The captain might promote you to PFC on the spot so don't you let him down.
If a grumpy sergeant should deign to ask what you're doing, you could retort,
"Sarge, the colonel told me to inventory flypaper use on post and submit a report!"
Never volunteer for anything, though it may be an offer you shouldn't refuse!
Arrange things neatly in your footlocker for display and always shine your shoes!
Sergeants like things regular and complete, so don't give them any sass.
Officers' mega-egos are crushed if you don't salute, so always salute the brass!
Scrub the floor, shave your mug and be ready for Saturday morning inspection.
Best you pass the captain's scrutiny else he won't shower you with affection!
Keep your hair cut, a crease in your pants and you'll get along without a glitch.
They might even see fit to promote you to general on your very first hitch!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved