Monthly Archives: May 2012

O evening poo you were a fighter, but I won – now I’m kilo’s lighter, I’m feeling light just like a bird, now that my guts aren’t full of turd.

O morning fruit of bowel’s rumble, towards the s-bend’s curves you tumble, you start out pure sphinctoid extrusion, and end as poo and water fusion.

O morning poo you come like clockwork, and stretch my ring like well-hung cock-work, now like a student of fine arts, I can only do soft hissing farts.

  Morning poo O morning poo, sometimes you’re rock and sometimes glue, but each day when I wake there’s you, O morning friend my morning poo.

  O morning poo you leave my starfish, like a stinking muddy garfish, down into the dunny’s water, to swim just like a garfish ought.

  O morning fruit of bowel’s churn, you have a hint of chilli burn, to twist and turn, as to the s-bend you sojourn.