Short Excrete Poems

Defeat, fear’s concrete,
Fright, the body would excrete,
        It torments to fleet…...

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Potential commander-in-cheat
Has a PhD in deceit
If courts say he's free
We'll see an orgy
With pee that D.T. could excrete...

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Again, I felt it skip a beat;
the heart goes pitty-pat.
It seems I am dehydrated;
I can’t imagine that.
If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass;
I cannot down another glass
until I first excrete....

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Did you ever wake up with parts still asleep
You arm feels foreign and those aren't your feet
They're attached they are
But it feels bizarre
Don't try walking, bad words you'll excrete...

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Did you ever wake up with parts still asleep
You arms feel all floppy and those aren't your feet
They're attached they are
But it feels bizarre
Don't try walking, bad words you'll excrete...

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What tune do politicians excrete
Upon their plank to please?
                                    Manana !
What response do husbands bleat
From a chair,at ease ?
                                    Manana !...

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Gobble gobble ho ho ho it's the language of the season
Time for long johns, mittens also coughing and sneezin'
Kissing strangers in the street
Blubbering emotion you excrete
Mostly it's time for a “you, your wife and Santa” threesome!...

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Gobble gobble ho ho ho it's the language of the season
Time for long johns, mittens also coughing and sneezin'
Kissing strangers in the street
Blubbering emotion you excrete
Mostly it's time for a “you, your wife and Santa” threesome!...

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Stolen and re-rooted here,
We can no longer be as 
Their virgin forest—
Raped and impregnated
By heirs of  their slavery,
And rechained with infertile
Emancipation ejaculations:-

With this climax,
Need I seek to excrete
Anymore aborted reality?
...

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Gobble gobble ho ho ho it's the language of the season
Time for long johns, mittens as well as coughing and sneezin'
Kissing strangers in the street
Blubbering emotion you excrete
Mostly it's time for a “you, your wife and Santa” threesome!...

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try to get it right 
 battlefield of thoughts gone wrong 
 my mind is the fight 

 excrete pools of sweat 
 gasping for life’s very last breath ... 
 dream of death again 

 peaceful slumber nights 
 sabotaged dreams infiltrate 
 awake to take flight...

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My Van Gogh Poem

Oh look at that Europe.
I love the way it moves
the fields dance and
the stars circle each other
in the sky. I want a place of my own.

Thank God for my eyes
and for the color. When  
I cry and my eyes
excrete paint. I make 
my own Europe.
Please take it....

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The feeling is neutral if not numb;
to the fact that most dogs are now rather dumb.
They waddle and limp to whoever has food,
regardless of thought or apparent mood,
led by hungers conjured and imbued.
Forgetting to hunt, they now excrete and eat all day,
mumbling and barking with nothing to say....

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Sloth hangs upside down in a tree
I look up and unfortunately
Golden pee it releases
With a week’s worth of faeces
I’ll admit I am far from happy!

A sloth only excretes once a week and can lose a third of its body weight
A little poetic licence, they actually excrete on the ground

10/21/21...

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Know that we are
not only made by
God, but we are
makers of gods;
the technology
we worship—the
bible of tables
(our elements);
we cook and
stew; we homogenize
and consume—drinking
the fluid bodies of 
eternity. Be as wise
of what goes into
your mouth, as well
as what comes out…
we excrete only
what we admit
to…....

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Have you ever sat alone in your room
and silently produced 
  salty pools of agony for the first time in years?
Desperately devastated 
  at the reason behind them,
sincerely surprised 
  at your ability to excrete them,
ironically indebted
  to a moment that feels a sliver of something again,
grateful
  even if salty tastes bitter, again?...

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Like the salt sting in an open wound
the colors encrust, excrete, move.
Boneless, bloodless, consumed insanity in bloom;
Munch’s “Scream” fills the room.

Undulating gore explored.
Heartache reeks from every pore,
Like the salt sting in an oozing wound
Munch’s nightmare blues fill the gloom.

All humanities abates
such torment at Fates gate....

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I nestled my bottom on the seat
Of the toilet - I’m being discrete
I finished my job
Now need a lynch mob
It’s a good thing I didn’t excrete!

There’s no paper left in the loo
My language is turning quite blue
If you use the last sheet
Will you kindly replete
Or there’ll be a hullabaloo

Contest -I’m so annoyed
Sponsor Mary Oliver Rotman

01 08 15...

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we need to eat veggies
cruciferous cabbage cauliflower
brocoli brussel sprouts
collards kale kohlrabi
cancer away
we need to excrete then
anger wrath hatred
jealousy judgement gossip
cancer away
we need to eat 
beet tomato tomatillo
leek garlic onion guard
bitter and artichoke lettuce
let us excrete purge
accumulation possession greed
segregation fornication discrImination
life is beautiful...

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love doesn't live here anymore
if it ever even did before
my heart pounding against this door
but love doesn't live here anymore

packed its bags and moved away
no forwarding address, nothing to say
its been gone for a month of days
a black and white still from
an overexposed frame

my heart is breaking from this deceit
all is different than it believed
need to figure away to excrete
as it makes its sad retreat...

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The veins pump blood to the heart like an engine’s turbine.
The brain controls the body like a steering wheel.
The eyes see the view like on a windscreen.
The joints move the body like wheels.
Bones hold the body like nuts and screws.
The body has energy similar to the one stored in a battery.
Finally we excrete waste as the cars emit smoke
To all the audience reading this and all my poems, thank you and God bless you....

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Here’s the best thing you should know,
if ever to Australia you go.
Don’t ever wind up as a feast,
for this voracious reptilian beast.
For your reasoning surely would be faulty,
if you ever “muck about” with a “SALTY”.
And don’t think he was born with a tooth that’s “SWEET”.
To him you are just another piece of meat.
So if you must visit his polluted “Billabong” retreat,
 make sure the only thing he swallows is what you excrete!


For the Sweet or Salty contest...

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The knots have knots…”God!?”
Threads of needing, want, desire;
shoots and branches, root and rote,
fragile tendrils, planted in deficient soil.

“God, the knots have knots?”
Nodes and nodules, full of spoor,
want desire…more…
hoarding, warmth, nurture, need;
shoots and spawns, no longer seeds.

“The knots, God, the knots please free…”
pulse and pump, push and bore
excrete the angst, open wide the pore.
release unhindered tangled twine.

The knots release…the planter pines....

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