Category Archives: Poetry of the Arse
Oh after-work pre-shower poo, sweaty, filthy, naked too, those who thought I stank before, should poke their head inside this door.
O squirty poo at cocktail night, cream and citrus churning fight? But while my bowels are burning bright, my brain is flying like a kite.
O guts ache tar-shit, thick and black Barely budging though my crack I mustn’t push despite the pain Or else I’ll probably shit a vein.
O viscous cloying reeking sludge, I strain and push to make you budge, like acid tar you bring me pains, I worry for my rectal veins.
O massive poo whilst rather pissed, on a chart of hugeness you’d be listed, I bet my ring is getting blistered, its rather like i’m being fisted.
O morning poo in pre-dawn freeze, frozen cheeks and thighs and knees, while rising tendrils of warm air, reek of “log du derriere”
O morning poo my arse you leave, pushing through the aresepube sieve, and for your parting I don’t grieve, in fact it’s more like a reprieve.
bongs and drinking
O sneak-off poo on sat’day eve, my midst of mayhem quiet reprieve, but once you’re flushed then I am thinking, I shall return to bongs and drinking.
O reeking log of fresh manure, I’m not your master – I’m your poo-er. not your maker -more your do-er. and though your critics may sa OO-Err, your horrid stench is foul yet pure, so answer to the septic lure, … Continue reading
O stinking putrid rectal paste, I glad my spincter cannot taste. and as my toilet’s side you baste, you smell so bad I must use haste.