Long Urinate Poems
Long Urinate Poems. Below are the most popular long Urinate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Urinate poems by poem length and keyword.
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
Rescued by an Alien and whisked away
Who would believe me if I spoke those words aloud
But my subconscious forbade any other conclusion
Remnants like fragmented images still remain
Cerebral glue cannot hold them together
I remember the Orb of light and whistles
Dark images tentacles probing my body
Electric shock impulses and tubes of
Clear liquid sometimes fluorescent yellow
Invading my bloodstream
Paralyzed I could offer no resistance
Yet was this a dream or reality?
Who do I ask?
Feeling thirsty and an urgency to urinate
I pulled myself up and struggled to the
Bathroom. Than the kitchen for a glass of
Water. I noticed the answering machine blinking
Tapped messages and to my surprise they were
Over fifty! Suddenly a loud knock at the door.
Police! Open up! I opened the door.
They asked my name and stated I had been
Reported missing for a week by my parents.
Ok.
Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.
Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.
White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive
Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.
Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive
Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.
Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently waving as robins flit all around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.
(alternately titled:
Pee pee song and dance routine)
Invariably analogous setting
kickstarts schlemiel to agitate
excretory mechanism linkedin,
viz body electric doth actuate
merely upon turning faucet triggers
unstoppable onset to micturate
drinking coffee or caffeinated tea
also functions as diuretic
mimics similar rush'n spate
oh boy... if I hesitate
to whip out trouser snake late...
he himself will humiliate
courtesy warm liquid will trickle
soiling pea green pants
legs knotted together damns fate
against pistol - unleash
expletives post maturely ejaculate
rank odor will permeate
redeeming salvation drek
written by this primate,
which rather lame poem may titillate,
though juvenile words
when thee evaluate
be mindful, cuz no control exists,
hence humorously accentuate
to tap kidney, draining
the lizard, empty bladder all equate
essentially to see man about a horse
private tête-à-tête,
thus no choice exists to alleviate
non voluntary impulse,
no rhyme nor reason unbeknownst to me
why tinkling sound beckons ureic freight
urgent whistle stop won't depreciate
emergency crisis compounded
with sudden necessity to defecate
courtesy lathered soap
or shaving cream, I fulminate
teary eyed burning man sensation
tripping feet blindly groping
oh $*¡† toilet seat down - cant wait
scramble in vain against impending date,
when disaster strikes
flash flood warning issued,
hence I cannot narrate
anymore hanging unto bough
risking life and limb
half a$$ poem I did create.
Apocalypse Beans
Sometimes it seems
your chest is about to cave in.
You try to catch a breath but
your heart flutters like a dry leaf;
Just more suburban undulations;
Dressed down for a slow blues song.
Apocalypse Beans sizzle on the fire.
Life has such trying interludes,
when it seems you can’t go further.
You are so tired and scared,
you can hardly urinate at dawn.
Your mind begins to see
air movies of the dead ascending;
Crawling out of cracked tombs
dressed sedately for the soirée.
A million funerals go by with
skeleton girls sucking on pixy stix.
Madness angels in garters pass over
sleeping streets searching for blood trees.
Stallion-dressed men-dogs chase down
old octogenarians for bones and wisdom teeth.
Fear worms from hell come slinking,
Oozing out of a million eye sockets,
Sucking blood and brains sifting
through transparent wires attached
to rubber-hosed machines in musty rooms.
A million funerals moan inside the old graveyard
adjacent the First Methodist confines.
Gum-chewing embalmers gather
to sing a torch song to the driveling and the dying.
Sometimes it seems
I can hear the female choirs singing,
their high-pitched Latin refrains again.
They stand erect in the choir loft fingering missals.
The young girls up there,
wear choir togs and slithering plaid beanies.
They read the notes and eye the glowing boys below.
Jesus and the stained glass ghosts look up from earth.
Apocalypse Beans sizzle on the fire.
Their cackle reamed with burning forget-me-nots.
While Being Raped
While being raped yell fire!
Neighbors fear for their property not you
Remember firemen have axes also
To chop his thingy in two
While being raped defecate and urinate
To break the mood
Remember who is being rude
This is not a date
While being raped bring out the mace
Spray it in the eyes and face
Become an animal
An animal is attacking you
While being raped have a conversation
“Mr. Rapist?” “Do you have VD too?”
He’ll get the clue
Ask him if he’s using rubbers
While being raped the one real truth to know
Rape is not a sex or passion crime
Clearly it’s an act of violence, brutality and power
From cowards with their malice
While being raped it wouldn't hurt to use your keys
Have some expertise in self protection
It only takes a moment, a maneuver to fight & defeat
To find release and flee
While being raped, change into another person
You simply can’t be sweet
You are fighting for your life
Become a monster. That monster needs fear to feed
While being raped, save your prayers for later
Drink at home when possible
Look alive when you’re outside with a friend by your side
Acknowledge there is evil. Rape is not the only crime
*A note to readers: Sadly, the judicial system and law enforcement
still define rape as a sex crime. It is not. It is the opposite. Laws
have to be changed to designate it and define it for what it truly is;
a hate crime, a human rights violation, an act of brutality and
violence. My deepest apologies go out to those of you who may
have been victimized by this horrific crime. Thank you for reading
my works. Earl
I think no stimulus could be
as potent as the one to pee.
A feeling frequent and innate
is this - the urge to urinate.
It comes each day to everyone
at work, at play, or on the run.
It comes sometimes as home you drive,
and soon you're hoping to survive
the bursting of your inner dam
while sitting in a traffic jam.
Then down the street you drive distressed
with thighs together tightly pressed.
You wish so badly it would cease
and then you pray for sweet release.
And as you drive, you ache and ache
and curse that drink you had to take.
You want to speed, but big surprise -
a cop's behind you. Squeeze those thighs
to keep inside what wants to flow!
You do not dare to let it go.
Few impulses can so compare.
Oh, how you'd love a diaper there!
Then home at last, you do a dance.
You run while pulling down your pants.
And horror, if when once inside,
you find the bathroom occupied!
WEll, just be glad it's mountain dew
you're holding in, not number two!
It’s too cumbersome to carry my life
wrapped in a cheap garment,
nonetheless, it’s an embarrassing situation for me
to take the garment off and toss it away because I have
no well-built body to show off but a poorly shaped stature.
And that’s why I am wearing this garment against my will,
still worse, it’s my only garment.
As such, although I cannot change my garment
as each season changes with its unique color
I have an advantage over the young girls
who walk on the street vigorously but have trouble
selecting one favorite from many designers’ dresses.
Mannequins attract the girls’ attention
from the seasonally changing show window.
Since I have no extra clothes to change, the garment I am wearing
has an ill-appearance because it went through all kinds of weather imaginable,
it’s worn and torn like a rag, the color has faded,
but, darn it! What can I do? It’s my life.
As eventide surges into my life’s trail, every stray dog passing by would urinate laying against my leg raising its hind leg to draw
a territorial map of its own dog-man* autocratic domain,
yet, I have to accept it as a fact without a word spoken.
Now, I understand why I have only one garment.
I am a straw filled scarecrow.
NOTE: *Used as dual meaning: a country ruled by dogs and, the dog-like men rule barking at each other to keep power.
Ballet of Death
As trumpets prepare emotions
This sordid art knows well
My hooves stomp impatiently
Raising clouds of dust
Enshrouding my entrance
With shouts and whistles
A crowd's tense moments
Engulf this gladiator's arena
Demanding courage and blood
Far away
The grassy hills
Of his Ganaderias estate
Stands my sire
Now out to pasture
Erect and proud
Amidst sadness retirement brings
Once close to arena fame
Determined better as stud
He raises his head
The air has changed
He knows the scent of fear
The distance it can travel
He scrapes the ground
The matador awaits the pageantry
I shoulder my pen bars
Holding back muscled power
Energy primed for destruction
My challenger readies his cape
I squint at the sun through dusty air
A beast's freedom that might have been
Were not this
My first time
Most likely
My last time
Such brutal grandeur awaits
Stage one Banderilleros
Astride proud mounts
Parading to applause
Preparing to tempt my will
Their colorful presence
To test my vision
The picadors await stage two
Armed with lance
Saddled atop padded and blindfolded steeds
Ready to break my will
What will their first piercing feel like?
Will my neck be numb for the rest
Or will it but set afire my zeal to live?
Banderilleros anticipate stage three
Their barbed banderillas
Flag-like with colored local papers
Held ready to weaken my neck further
My loins tremble with hope
Knowing my destiny is to charge
Expend my energy
Then... trample my own blood
As the magnificent matador and I
Perform our finite ballet
This dance of death
My enclosure's bolt is about to be lifted
Soon
Very soon
The matador's flourishing cape
Its crimson and gold tricks of ecstasy
Will swirl about and around
The stoic-faced tempter
Suddenly grinning with anticipation
While soiling himself
The piercing will come
I'll not allow pain any glory
I will drool
Defecate
Urinate
My legs will buckle
The sword now in my neck
The nerves failing my brain
Blood loss weakening my heart
Suffering passing quickly
I'll at last experience
Man's insane pleasure
My fallen passion
Bathed in blood
Dragged away by rope and horse
So many hours
So many training capes
So many horses taunting me
So many chances to fail into freedom
Chances to be respected
Like my father
Faithful father
I will miss you
I pee in the cup.
As you get older, it’s inevitable that your body will start to let you down. Sometimes, it's nice to have a family member visit or spend time with your children. However, when you're living in a small apartment with only one bathroom, you really have to rethink the idea of having visitors over.
When nature calls, there's simply no delaying the urge. You rush to the bathroom, only to stop short as you knock on the door, anticipation building. From within, a voice responds, "I am in here." The realization hits you like a cold splash of water—someone is occupying the very sanctuary you desperately need. Ouch! It’s that sinking feeling of frustration and urgency colliding, leaving you longing for relief.
At times, I hesitate about long-haul flights, particularly when traveling to my homeland, to avoid potential embarrassment.
I remember that awkward morning when I really needed to go, but someone was in the bathroom for more than an hour. I felt a kind of pain I had never experienced before. After a while, I heard them say they would be out in a few minutes.
As I looked at my cup of water, I realized I couldn't wait any longer. I ended up peeing in the cup. I felt bad that my body wasn’t cooperating, but I just wanted that person to hurry up and leave..