Long Urination Poems
Long Urination Poems. Below are the most popular long Urination by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Urination poems by poem length and keyword.
Yet upon another reflexive routine dash
skipping to Waterloo, I got emboldened
with idea praising basic vital functions
aware requisite elimination of liquid
and/or solid waste any obstruction
disallowing body to expel toxins would
prove fatal, thus gratitude toward
regular unpicturized, unhindered, and
unaided intervening measures undertaken
to experience thee nonpareil pleasures
actuated without purgative, yet should
instance arise finding impossibility
to exercise sphincter muscle
(constipation worse fate than
perdition) alleviating solid state brick
like blockage spasm inducing agony
within me bum, yours truly racks impound
did severely inconvenienced physical
self accessing natural remedy to soften
stool temporarily incapacitating peaceful
ease zee ex-lax feeling accompanying
experience that approximates how pregnant
mother inundated with contractions ready to
give birth, whereat merciful joyous crying
emanates courtesy this humble human, no
matter he never tested his steely ironic
mettle say completing wilderness survival
course, but rarely speculates such grueling
boot camp self inflicted challenges
pale in comparison to loosing bowel
movement big enough to sink battleship, and
mighty exertion finally dumps payload,
the toilet bowl hastens meteorologists to
issue tsunami warnings insync with "Damn
the torpedo" this ole windbag blasted clear
across contiguous United States, where
whizzing, sounding, jet setting like
speeding bullet (self Mach re:) puzzled
onlookers mistake me for some foreign entity
lost in space analogous to detect a stylish alien
(pants bunched around ankles - most definitely
tell tale clue, asper rating him hip hopping
longfellow), yea undoubtedly a messenger
from outer limits of twilight zone sent to...
wait...his trumpeting tush gaseous, an utter
farts feigning "FAKE" comet tee.
No lentil beans before bedtime unless...
(alternately titled: unrelenting flatulence)
Ya wanna count bajillion sheep,
but tween gluteus maximus powerful
natural gas explosions during sleep
(ass suspected source) – courtesy missus
she served me lentil beans piled outsize heap
sinister been off fish shunt ploy
spouse I may no longer keep,
cuz dream house went up in flames
reduced to ashes smoldering (Uriah hit) heap
an feeble attempt made to extinguish courtesy
urination which suddenly found me awoke
moments ago groggily awakened out deep
slumber out requisite snooze,
cuz I bean dog tired exhausted fuel
driving one clunky body electric jeep
wee hours way after midnight night owl
in case ya give fig yore hot heave hoot
blasted tremendously nonstop
rendering air to smell foul
while my little chickadee evinced similar
disposition, she too did pepper her muttering
with expletives, and did growl
snarling evidenced yours truly espied scowl
unrepentant and threatened to apply dowel
well, I need not specify, "a" specific vowel
one cheeky spouse,
would find yours truly to howl
no pretty picture me bean
while slowly turning unnatural green,
henceforth rushed to emergency room
whereby team of alien specialists,
who casually did primp and preen
mistaking convincingly verdant colored
hue man as martian ready for Halloween,
and said practitioners loathe to intervene
reckoning yours truly -
with other worldly mien,
For the first time
since the end of Summer,
Mr. Nobody wears his socks to bed,
a sad admission that
things were going to get worse.
Can't count on the
warmth of mother nature's breast
to keep his mammalian nature intact.
When he wears his socks
and he pulls the thin duvet and the
extra purple woven Dacron blanket
up over himself he feels
warm enough to sleep.
The cat, Missy, who sleeps on his bed
wants to go out. This is Mr. Nobody's worse fear,
like a fear of urination
a fear that keeps him from resting.
Mr. Nobody throws off the blankets, rises,
swings his legs over the side of the bed
and rests his feet on the cold wood laminate floor.
He shuffles to the door
Missy follows.
Opening the back door, he feels
the dread of the betrayal.
Missy scoots out.
Now, before he can sleep, Mr. Nobody has to remember
to find her and let her in again, realizing now that
William, the male cat had been let out earlier.
He will have to recover them both.
Mr. Nobody doesn’t know why he cares so much
about the discomforts of the cats.
He doesn't know if they suffer the terrors
of the failing pact with nature as much as he,
probably they do not.
Mr. Nobody returns to bed, pulls the cover-sandwich package
over his legs then over his chest. He rests,
planning to rise in an hour to go out and find the cats.
Mr. Nobody is certain that when he calls the cats
after an obligatory time
they will agree to follow him,
almost as if they know what's
good for them.
Preface: There is entirely too much water being consumed. People should be satisfied with thirst and being dry. They should think about desert sand, romancing dunes and bleached bones in repose.
People become inflated with hydration
Leaving faucets on, mouths wide open
Under the deluge of flowing water spouts
Every drop is counted against humanity
Wasted on stupid sacks of wet fluidity
Walking around with tongues hung drooling
Carbon based units most insidious when wet
Something is wrong when not forgotten
Hydration is the sin of water taken in
Environments remember every sin
Nature hates you because you take from it
The sum worth of oceans is in their taste
Is salt not dry? Is it the flavor of the day?
Environments are crying for revenge against humanity
Parched deserts are void of thinking water
There is no shame in thirst
Under the sun there is no shade to hide
Heat and land flow dry on to tomorrow
Adding water to a person porous is a sin
Being parched is not when plugged up properly
Emptiness can be dangerous but it is kind
This condition of dry is a state of holiness
There is nothing that a desert can not fix
That which buries you is friendly
Leakage is a crime against humanity
People who drink will end up in a well
Will sink in perpetuity to new depths
Hollow to the bitter end down in a hole
Not worthy of a soul worth drowning
Emptiness will follow you to oceans depths
In debt you will be swallowed whole by them
They rise to levels with high tides to float
To their horizons saturated with insurgence
Where will you go when waters stop you cold?
Fluid intake is a compromise to thirst
Don’t do it if you are wise
It weighs heavy on the bladder of the drinker
People who leak on lawns should not
Should be arrested and pay high fines
Urination is not the nation I had in mind
When I moved into the community
Actions have consequences when not dry
There is a cure called incarceration
It comes with a slice of bread but no water
Because that would be wrong
For the damage done to lawns
Today, our cat spent some time with the vet for his prognostication.
It had been a couple of years or so since Simba's last examination.
Simba had no say in the matter due to our paucity of conversation.
As I coaxed him into his carrying cage, he howled in desperation!
The vet and staff look forward to Simba's visit with little anticipation!
He gets rather grumpy at the vets, exhibiting aggressive agitation!
Hence, for examinations he must be placed under very heavy sedation;
Only then can the veterinarian proceed to practice his vocation!
His eyes, ears, nose and throat were fine including his respiration.
There was no evidence of fleas or any problems with his urination.
The old fella has only 16 of 28 teeth due to a previous operation,
But no matter, he eats like an army mule in handling mastication!
For his arthritis the vet prescribed a bottle of medication,
And for good measure he was given a rabies inoculation.
I'm aware that "cat-scans" are used in treating the human population.
By Jove! Simba received a true "cat"-scan as a part of his observation!
I anticipated receipt of the bill for the tests with some trepidation!
To pay for all of this, need I present an arm or leg for amputation?
After all, we'd do anything for our old pal, 'tis our obligation.
We want to keep him around for nine more lives for our delectation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
High summer at the Regiment,
Admin Inspection coming around
So they placed a little saluting base
At the edge of the Parade Ground.
A coco matting covered floor
On a stout square wooden base
Which the fatigue party
Manoeuvred carefully into place.
Now I may have worn a uniform
And been a soldier by name
But i preferred to play
Very unmilitary games.
So, every night I visited
That special little place
And ceremoniously and seriously
Passed water on the saluting base.
How I loved the thought
That the building smell
Would make of that area
A pungently urine smelling hell.
Alas, all good things
Must come to their end
Because sadly I was discovered
By an equally discontented friend.
And before I knew it
Every single night
Folk were treated
To the unedifying sight
Of an ever growing band
In the process of urination
On that little coco matted
Official saluting base station.
Discretion being the thing
And the damage being done
We ceased operation and left
Further action to that of the sun.
Having sadly been posted for
Unspecified but suspected crime
I was not present there
Come Admin Inspection time
So I never did find out
If it all went well
And the Inspecting Officer suffered
My planned olfactory dose of Hell
So many many years later
In odd moments of leisure
I like to think it did, and that
Gives me such intense pleasure.
CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection
No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.
Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.
Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.
The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.
Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.
At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.
Preface: There is entirely too much water being consumed. People should be satisfied with thirst and being dry. People should think about desert sand, romancing dunes and bleached bones in repose.
People become inflated with hydration
Leaving the faucet on, mouth wide open
Under the deluge of flowing water spouts
Every drop is counted against humanity
Wasted on the tongues of one another
Walking around like sacks of fat fluidity
Carbon units of wet are most insidious
Something is wrong when not forgotten
Hydration is the sin of water intake
Who forgot to turn it off? ?
The sum worth of oceans is in their taste
Is salt not dry? Is it the flavor of the day?
Parched deserts are void of water with no shame
Under the sun there is no shade to hide
Only heat and land flow open on tomorrow
Being porous is a crime
This condition is not a state of holiness
Leakage is a sin against humanity
People who drink will leak
Will sink in perpetuity to new depths
Oceans of debt will swallow them whole
They rise to levels with high tides to float
To their horizons saturated in their homes
Where will they go?
Fluid intake is a compromise to thirst
Weighs heavy on the bladder of the sinner
People who take leaks on lawns
Should be arrested and pay fines
Urination is not the nation I had in mind
It should be a crime
Such actions are not civilized
There is nothing wrong with being dry
From what I can surmise
The Wall
Generations have passed The Wall
glancing at its brick and mortar majesty.
Crowds gathered – to be amused,
swayed, exhorted, demonized –
by the vagabonds of vitriolic vendetta.
Unseen change posted its messages
“Awake, Arise, Agitate, Assemble”.
Causes layered upon demands
for more – or less. The wall shuddered
beneath the layers of torn torment,
joyous indecision, victory’s urination,
defeat’s desecration. She had felt the
icy sting of bloodied bullets,
endured the sunsets of hollow hope,
welcomed the silent midnight brushstrokes,
freshened dreams claiming ownership
When my Dad's mind failed, he started shredding tissues
They littered the floor, the least of his issues.
When Mom started to decline, she dropped napkins on the rug
I dutifully picked them up, then I gave her a hug.
My parents didn't believe my delusions, they were appalled
I said I attracted bad guys, but my explanations stalled.
Though they thought me mad, they thought meds could control
No proof for my stories, so they went to a black hole.
Then Mom had two mini-strokes, her mind was not the same
She wandered halls at night, caused us all much pain.
We took her to the ER, they found dehydration
That thickened her blood, also blocked urination.
Then she got a UTI, and Leukemia came back
It was like fighting off birds on the attack
She said she wanted to die, refused food
Her alertness mostly down, along with her mood.
Here's the kicker, I ran into tissues outside
Delusions got on my saddle, began to ride
I'd come home on the aqueduct from the store
A crumpled tissue on the path that the sane ignore.
I'd walk down my lane, and where it met the main
A tissue sat there, was the message plain?
I went to the bike path to the hospital grounds
And in that pristine path, white tissues found.
I took Mom to get an implant, and stopped short
on the facing table, a white tissue held court
I then wheeled her wheelchair to the blood testing place
A crumpled tissue on the sidewalk, mocking in my face.
There's a parallel world that you don't want to intersect
Messages deniable, can delusions be correct?
I get the message, after a while it can't be missed.
If I went to the police, they'd put me on a list.