Long Proctologist Poems
Long Proctologist Poems. Below are the most popular long Proctologist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Proctologist poems by poem length and keyword.
Pain in the ass devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.
Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication
among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...
in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,
cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition
chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...
I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... tushy
regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption
personally legislating
getting behind abrogation
replacing said bum fanny
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in uterus, U.S.A, tuckus,
I should've learned french before going to a restaurant.
What I ordered there was food that I sure didn't want.
I made the mistake of ordering cerveau and escargot.
When I learned that it was brains and snails, I said that it had to go.
When I refused to eat it, the chef threw me out a window and I got a shard of it in my ass.
I went to a proctologist and he asked me five hundred bucks to remove that piece of glass.
I refused to pay it and I got thrown through a window again.
Now I have two shards of glass in my butt, I can never win.
I can no longer sit down, I have to be suspended by a winch.
If you decide to eat at that restaurant, you'd better learn french.
(This is a fictional poem.)
I sincerely apologize if I seem curt.
I have a nail up my ass and it hurts.
My brat of a daughter pulled the trigger on my nailgun.
She'll be going to the wood shed for what she's done.
The nail that's up my ass is in there pretty deep.
The Proctologist laughed because he's a creep.
Since he was mean, I decided to be even meaner.
I grabbed my nailgun and put a nail in his wiener.
He got very angry and he raised his voice.
The nail is still up my ass so what I did wasn't a good choice.
This nail hurts like hell, it's like being stabbed with a knife.
I hope I don't have this nail up ass for the rest of my life.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
My peach tree only had one peach and my brother decided to pick it.
I grabbed it out of his hand and you know where I decided to stick it.
My brother was really pissed.
He had to go to a Proctologist.
He took me to court and the judge ordered me to pay the doctor for removing the peach from his ass.
That made me very mad and I started giving that judge sass.
I threw a punch at the judge when he held me in contempt.
But he had a black belt in karate and now I walk with a limp.
When it came to that damn peach, I should've let my brother eat it.
This has been a bad experience and I sure as hell will never repeat it.
(This is a fictional poem)
People laugh and make fun of me because I wear a coonskin cap.
But they'll stop laughing because I'm through taking their crap.
People say that my cap makes me look silly.
They say that it makes me look like a hillbilly.
This morning a city slicker called me a hick and he called my hound dog a mutt.
He was laughing very hard but he stopped when I put some buckshot in his butt.
He started running after I shot both of his cheeks.
He won't be able to sit down for about twelve weeks.
If you see me face to face, you may point, laugh and make fun.
But unless you want to visit a proctologist, you'd better remember that I own this shotgun.
(This is a fictional poem.)
I had it made until my stupid wife ruined me.
I was rich until she went on a spending spree.
She spent it all before I even had the chance to stop her.
I had ten million bucks but because of her, I'm a pauper.
I was the richest man in my town but now I'm the most poor.
People are giving me funny looks because I'm buying clothes in a second hand store.
She forgot to insure the cars that she bought, even the Ferrari.
I only have ten dollars left and that jezebel isn't one bit sorry.
A tornado came last week and destroyed every vehicle that she bought.
If you're wondering if I think about strangling her, I think about it a lot.
She also spent a lot of my money on male strippers, booze and grass.
Now she's going to need a proctologist to remove my foot from her ass.
(This is a fictional poem)
Can You Please Wait A Second...?
In steed of ye
mounting your stock
key high horse,
perhaps named Rock
Key, and head off...lock
stock and barrel,
who knows where,
now lemme seat chew wait
ma self, and quickly knock
out quick mention about
hour (meaning everybody
within the wide world),
and their webbed
warp and woof weave
courtesy of Father Time
analogously to a jock
key hunkering down
aiming tubby first
crossing finish line
at races, afterwards celebrate
with social feted outing, while
scheduling proctologist appointment,
et cetera, sans squeezing
late radio talk ad hoc
meeting, an
extemporaneous yet timely
lesson indirectly related
to bird dogging, i.e. migrating
fast as Glock
pistol can shoot, essentially
sound (garden) resembling
joyus honking flock
of seagulls heading
Southside Johnny
and Asbury Jukes,
and on Tortoise -
to sea dock
side of the moon
Pink Floyd attired as Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtle,
whose schedule Nsync
with YES men hosting
showtime merely minutes away...
remember ring that char existence
enslaved to thee a bomb
been nibble atomic clock,
which device uses an electron
transition frequency went
sallying forth in
the microwave tent,
experiencing optical radiation pent
up ether, or ultra
violet region meant
for electromagnetic fervent
active spectrum, or Palestra event
of atoms comprising
Adam and the Ants
(as well all other matter)
linkedin to frequency standard for
timekeeping Strunk and White
element of style.
Hurriedly enroute to her royal majesty
porcelain goddess throne
whereupon earlier today
March 28th, 2022,
after incomplete defecation
sitting pretty on pissoir,
I jiggled and wiggled posterior
(analogous to performing
the bum bared hustle)
until gasping for breath
though unable to shake loose
dangling dingleberry yours truly
nevertheless synchronously praise zing
a mostly functioning sphincter muscle.
Gross and smelly
as human excrement considered
expelling fecal matter comprises
important function, whereby any unspent
ingested material shunted
thru alimentary canal
then spewed courtesy sphincter vent.
**** lies zing constipation
and/or stubborn stuck drek
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction,
no matter emetics
applied with bonafide clout
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, maleficent
malevolent malady
body electric doth flout
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
if/when yours truly constipated
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with a$$ a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
in place, but my ill luck
regarding aforementioned plight
merely naming said nerve pain
accursed affliction arises
analogous to parasite malefactor thieve
ving would be
equally unpleasant and offer
absolutely zero reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
utmost effort I forcefully heave
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.
**** lies zing constipation
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous,
malevolent malady
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with ass a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
would be pleasant reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.
I watch our liberal congress with little admiration
As they show their family values to our entire nation
They say if you don’t have time for children
Because you’re in a hurry
Just murder them before they’re born
Then you won’t have to worry
It would be nice just for once
To believe in some of the things they said
But they have to call a proctologist
When they can’t find their head
So I dreamed I went to Washington
To ask them to change course
But I found that I was talking to
The north end of a south bound horse
Before congress goes into session
They pass around large receptacles
I thought they were collecting documents
But they were collecting testicles
In order to clean out Washington
The Pied Piper would be nice
Although we voted for human beings
We seem to have elected mice
It’s time to elect people
Who aren’t afraid to say what they think
Than have the same old congress
With the same old stink.