Long Toilet Poems
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What’s In The Urn
Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?
Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose
A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison
In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know
With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms
I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later
There must be a plot of ground outside
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest
Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite pet I guess
It is surmised, that’s how it met its end
Wound up expired inside the urn
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned
I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?
Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing
Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
Jose Mendoza, was a young migrant farmworker,
he was harvesting sweet potatoes on
Barnes Farming property in Spring Hope,
North Carolina on September 5, 2023.
The temperature was in the 90's,
and Jose began to not feel well.
He went to rest on a bus used for worker
transportation to the fields,
the fields of labor under the unyieldng sun.
Jose came to America from
Guanajuato, Mexico,
with his wife and their two children.
He came for what our nation could
offer in honest work.
He was one of God's salt of the earth,
picking the produce for our plates.
He succumbed to the heat-
on a farm that previously refused to
give water breaks to those out in the fields,
those who toiled so hard for them.
Lunch breaks were only twenty minutes.
This farm was investigated in 2019 and
2020 by North Carolina Dept.of Labor's
Occupational Safety and Health Division
for hazardous chemicals and insufficient
toilet and handwashing facilities.
Jose left his youthful laborer's life on the
fields that oppressively hot September day.
God loves His laborers, His people of
the harvest.
Barnes and the NC Growers Association
took care of expenses related to Jose's
death and funeral.
His body was returned for burial back
home to Mexico.
His family without his presence,
reposing eternal from his earthly labors
We must remember this,
appreciate and pray for the farmworkers,
as we eat the bounty from the fields. ~
I am windy the great I am
Windy the great I am, I am
to be buried in the toilet next door
I got out and gassed every nose next door
And everyone was a Cindy (Cindy)
They never brought home a Billy or a ham (or a ham)
From their neighbor’s can I am Windy
Windy the great I am I am
Second verse same as the first.
I am windy the great I am
Windy the great I am, I am
I got buried in the toilet next door
I got out and gassed every nose next door
And everyone was a Cindy (Cindy)
They never brought home a Billy or a ham (or a ham)
From their neighbor’s can I am Windy
Windy the great I am I am
(shouts)
(guitar solo)
I am windy the great I am
Windy the great I am, I am
I got buried in the toilet next door
I got out and gassed every nose next door
And everyone was a Cindy (Cindy)
They never brought home a Billy or a ham (or a ham)
From their neighbor’s can I am Windy
Windy the great I am I am
W I N D Y
Windy (Windy) Windy (Windy)
Windy the Great I am I am
Windy the Great I am!
I secretly do these things to my neighbor
make fun of her walk, her talk, her arrogant ways
draw her as a cartoon buffoon with a giant large ugly toothy mouth
paint her wearing gaudy neon colors that she would despise
wash her hairsprayed up hair in my toilet bowl in my mind’s eye
write her into poems that are less than flattering
yell despicable things to her while I am in the shower
throw rusty hatches at her in my dreams
devour her in my oatmeal, eating her head first
dance the watusi in her face, watching her back away in horror
envision her being eaten by a big cat who breaks her back first
ignore her arrogance and try to like her……..sorry. This was a lie.
The sky is a mass field of common wealth
Air,light and water yields of common wealth
Along and across,the lines drawn on the political map
Like nerves running over the body
Bounding the water resources as mile stones
Separated the hearts not the soil
Unrest, tearing the unity and peace,piece by piece
The idea of inventing bottles
Made drinking water a marketing commodity
Water is the champion in some own camps
Water is a weapon in the agenda of the world war,the last
Polluting environment inch by inch
Money making minds,burning oil in sleepless nights
To discover a vial to make "inhaling fresh air" a commercial commodity
There stands greed as a dividing wall of common wealth
In between rich and poor
Rich is right and poor is left!
Up setting the order of common wealth sharing and caring
Great not greed,greet not greed,slogan is fake!
The spider spins it's own web for it to run
Anger,jealous and affection a World Wide Web
People unaware the tool of love to cut it to get out
Love and affection got out of hearts and hiding in the armpits
Where,Where is peace?
True,the foundation of commonwealth is strong as the Great Wall
"Breaking the Earth of one fourth
Bringing people of one third
Briefing the heads in good word
Business become,commonwealth"
This "mantra" is not answering the burning issues
If meeting is the answer,that's to meet the peace not people
It is a waste of time and money otherwise
"It is like going to the toilet,
There is a sitting,then there is a report and matter is dropped"
A veteran Lankan parliamentarian as revealed
Out of fifty three seats of Commonwealth
Find the fifty fourth one
Let peace sit down on fifty fourth seat
Let it the pivot of searching peace
Pick up all pieces of peace
Past it on the wall of CHOGM
It is greater than the Chinese Great Wall,very strong!
Resolve,peace!
Dissolve finding peace!!
(This poem is on the 23rd the CHOGM-Commonwealth Heads of Govt. Meeting-
taking place in Sri Lanka from 15th to 17th November 2013)
Television
Nexflix and chill
Date night thrill
Baby
Constant butt wiper
Another poopy diaper
Puppy
Snuggly and adored
Much to afford
Neighbor
Nosy are they
Dog barking everyday
Mail
Sometimes paycheck thrills
Other annoying bills!
Sofa
Couch potato crazy
Napping cuz’ lazy
Christmas
Jingle that bell
In-laws from hell
Mortgage
Owning your property
Living in poverty
Me
Loves her writing
Constant nail biting
Remote Control
At least twenty
Devices of plenty
Computer
Viruses and spam
Not enough ram
St. Patty’s Day
Green beer frenzy
Getting too friendly
Husband
Toilet seat up
Just use cup!
Six-Word Couplet Series Encore Poetry Contest
Mark Toney
Written: September 17, 2018
Re-submitted: October 23, 2018
They created a scamdemic
what a filthy nasty lie
Then they lined 'em up to get the jab
or else you're gonna die
Side affects are bodily
but there is another scam
Shortages of dunny paper
create a traffic jam
One would have thought that food
would be the major focus
But no the human race
has lost all form of locus
So me I'm running where
the vegetation's lush
Not so hard to find some green
when I'm caught short in the bush
But where the growth of trees and plants
are often rather sparse
Hard to find material
on which to wipe my ass
I stand in awe whilst I do watch
the rush for toilet paper
Don't they realise it's all part of a
dirty criminal caper
There are places I have utilised
to aid my body function
No doubt I would have spread some seed
I do it without unction
Garden shrubs on city streets
provide a hiding spot
Luckily I've not been caught
they'd think it;s ME!!!! who's lost the plot
Sometimes I've utilised a culvert
number one or two
You've gotta take whatever's
when you're busting for a poo
And when there's need to clean one's self
whilst running in the scrub
Smooth stones or straight sticks I've often used
why don't you join the club
Footnote: A stern warning from an old bushie
who has spent years around a camp fire with a billy of tea
NEVER STIR YOUR TEA WITH A STRAIGHT STICK1111
She was the type who dressed only in darks,
a ‘non-conformist’ teen who bathed in snark,
in black lipstick her smile did hide,
row of piercings ran above her eyes.
Her family came in October to my inn,
a bed-and-breakfast in a Victorian,
early fall I made it over into
a classic Gothic house, for a scare of two.
It was a lot of fun, so said our guests,
the town said my Haunted House was the best,
but as the goth walked in, looked from her phone,
she rolled her eyes hard and let out a groan.
She went to my mummy, Ammon-Hotap,
said,”How much toilet paper went into that?”
Seeing my Dracula, she laughed and proclaimed:
“He’s been done to death, so tired and tame.”
My bell-hop dressed himself as Wolf-man,
with the family’s baggage, he gave a hand,
she went up to him as he was working,
said,”Dude, for your sake, the big box is hiring.”
I bit back a strong urge to choke the runt,
or call her a bad name that rhymed with ‘bunt,’
so I faked a smile, went to help too,
said,”Right this way folks, I’ll show you your rooms.”
After I had the parents settled in,
I asked the goth girl,”Do you need anything?”
She gave me a look, said,”Before you go,
I need the WiFi password, for my phone.”
I shrugged and said,”We won’t have internet.”
And she let out a shriek that awoke the dead!
Never before had I heard such a scream,
it was probably heard by half the county.
All the ghosts and goblins did not do the trick,
but you take the gadgets, it gets scary quick.
I guess next year I’ll have to change the display,
to reflect what terrifies the kids these days.
There ought to be a law
If CEOs ignore firestorm conflagrations
expanding in strength
and endurance
And ignore wet windstorms
wiping out resident populations,
humane and Republican
and otherwise,
If CEOs meanwhile invest all their twitter toilet time
and anti-green revolutionary rallies
expanding hate conflagrations
of disinformation
against their patriotic healthy opposition,
and not one unmediated word,
much less "praying with feet" investment
in ecological and theological economic therapy,
multicultural healing sins of Great White Fathers,
Then we get to choose
a healthier,
more sane,
more loyal,
more invested,
more committed to health and happiness,
less treasonous
CEO.
And he gets to choose
a healthier,
more sane,
less fractured
therapeutic habitat.
Grizelda the witch loved
cooking chubby children in
her bubbling, green broccoli
stewpot.
She wore a pointy hat that
constantly leaked bright pink
glitter everywhere she
walked.
Her magic wand was
actually a stale, half- eaten
pepperoni pizza crust from
last Tuesday.
"Mmm, boy- and- girl soup is
my absolute favorite!" she
cackled, dancing a silly jig.
She captured little Timmy
and Barnaby, aiming to turn
them into tasty dinner
snacks.
"Wait!" shouted Timmy, "We
taste exactly like expired
milk and gym socks!"
Grizelda sniffed Barnaby's
shoe and gagged loudly, her
green face turning bright
purple.
"Gosh! You need seasoning!"
she cried, dumping a giant
bottle of ketchup inside.
Barnaby secretly pulled out
a massive feather duster
and tickled the witch's nose.
"ACHOO!" roared Grizelda
blowing her own ugly
hairpiece straight into the
boiling soup.
The bald witch gasped as
the boys threw popping
candy into a giant
cauldron.
BANG! POP! FIZZ!" The green
stew exploded, covering the
kitchen walls in goo.
The magical blast turned the
evil witch into a harmless,
pink fluffy toilet brush.
She hopped around
frantically, squeaking angrily
because she couldn't eat anyone
anymore.
Timmy and Barnaby laughed
so hard that their bellies
hurt, doing silly victory flips.
They grabbed Grizelda's
pizza- crust wand and waved
it wildly around the messy
room.
The spell instantly transformed
the spooky potion into massive
hill of chocolate pudding.
The boys are their way out
of the creepy hut, laughing
at the brush.
Grizelda stated stuck in the
corner, forever sweeping
dust bunnies and crying
softly.
Now she only eats moldy
cheese crumbs and hates
the smell of broccoli soup.