Ode à L'odeur

Today I had a dream described to me in which someone had used my bathroom and I played them a song I had written about shittin. Now, It may come as no surprise to some of you, but shit is actually the main subject of two poems I've written which I plan to publish and distribute in a zine of similar terrible things and the like. The following is a new poem which I dedicate to Emily.


Sometime when I see your turd
I lose my breath and fall short for words
It's porcelain nest, it's hue of brown
I barely achieve it's flushing down

You can sit on my lap while we both do our duty
Even the largest log couldn't rival your beauty
These lovely feelings and smells we procure
Surely could hold a match to manure

It's practically like we share an ass
Since your butt first touched where my butt has
We may as well, we share a heart
You smell of the sweetest fart

I want you here, perched upon my love seat
Time's never wasted when waste we excrete
Someday we'll build a home of poo
And I'll spend my days growing old with you

The tally is now three. I have three poop poems. This is my mind. This is my life.