Loose Stools

rew4er2nail

I seethe with livid rage within the bowels of my being

when sitting upon the porcelain goddess ample defecation doth cling

immediately triggering an internal self hatred

charge of body electric to signal an inaudible ding

though a figurative lid

kept atop unrelenting, toil letting, and smoldering, red hot poker anger

withering vocalizing heard all the way to Ewing

informing high pitched emergency siren intended for catastrophes

to generate ear splitting ring,

which Soundcloud echoes continued re:verb burr ray ting

trying utmost effort to keep wretched loathing sans soft excrement

(I.e. unformed rectal waste matter) spewing within bit torrent cheek

this psychotic cannery going cook coo

to sublimate anal angst inducing mental tipping point as per this freak

whose ultra bizarre psychic affect from other than a solid turd

doth seem overly absurd, which anonymous reader reaction

may find this more difficult to decipher than speaking Greek,

but thy neurotic posterior predilection qua rear,

or what crap emanates from buttocks generates a peak

into the off kilter mind scape of this bottom of the bowl Sheik

finding myself going berserk and weak

 

in the high knee, where blasting acrimonious Derriere glowing jolt

would be typical of schizoid personality dis odor dolt

whose exultant, copious ablutions (against mine excretory system)

gives anyone whose eyes espy this tragicomical frenzy to bolt

perhaps wondering if a soft padded sonic boom encased room

most suitable for this bay bee boo moor adult

 

whose coping mechanism to bear with me peculiar mental drek

somewhat flushed out this Beastie boy via writing poetry, and heck

with these mailer daemons, finding refuse in the noggin of this smart a 'leck

within which these highland imps

resembling fifty plus blank shades of gray matter if ye did in speck

the cerebral cortex of this pooped out scribe riding an ass a nine trek.

 

Dire rhea spurs intent for permanent vacation – not just brief hiatus via see ya

yea...ache kin to the grim reaper that stole Eva or Zsa Zsa

Gabor - hungry for every mortal.

 

  • Author: rew4er2nail (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 11th, 2017 20:54
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 20
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Comments2

  • orchidee

    Erm, I had a feeling you weren't gonna talk about chairs in this poem, when I saw it marked 18+ (stools, that is). Swoon! heehee.

  • Night Owl

    You certainly are a master of words- Emptying out in print - Holy shite... very clever write!



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