A while ago, my earrings were getting boring; feeling stale
I wondered to myself 'A PA? Dare I do that, as a male?'
'Subject myself to nasty sharp things shoved through the end of my cock?'
(When finally I did it, thanks to modern anaesthetics
I felt about as much as if my cock had been a sock).

Unfortunately I found that I had to sit down to piss
Trying to widdle standing up resulted in a miss
A miss most wide, not narrow as it sprayed directly to the right
So I sat down when going to town, so's not to make a mess
Which came in use when I was at a party the next night

I'd imbibed a couple shandies and was well behind the curve
A few of them were proper gone, they stumbled and they swerved
So playing Drunkard Slalom, I made my way to the toilet
I closed the door, but the lock was poor, so had to trust it would stay shut
As I sat down on the pan in preparation to despoil it

Now the toilet in this bathroom was near but not beside the door
The sink was in between the two, a space of a foot or four
I couldn't keep it shut with my foot, and thus what happened next
Was not within my power to stop, and so I'm glad I escaped with a drop
And maybe, perhaps, a couple of (still quite disgusting) flecks

As I released the beery flow, to a great sense of relief
(The pressure in my bladder would have crushed the Master Chief)
A strange, but not unusual, event unrolled before my eyes
The door to my right crashed open and in rolled a very drunken girl
I cannot say that I was not at least a bit surprised

But that, of course, was nothing; I don't think she even saw me
Before vomiting spectacularly over the bathroom floor...y
The horrid jet off effluence passed right through where I would have been
If my fresh genital metal hadn't had me sitting down
And I'd been pissing like a king, instead of like the Queen.

(Or like a Prince, I suppose...ahem, anyway:)

So there we go, ladies and gents: a story of vomit and piss
I'd love to say the girl was skinny, thus another narrow miss
But I didn't really see her, and she certainly didn't see me
She boked on the ground, then turned back around, oblivious to the guy
She'd very nearly drenched in bile and second-hand Lambrini.

Edit: not bad, but your meter is shot to shit. C+
Also, you spend far too much time talking about your willy. See me after class.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 22:23, 3 replies)

click
I am humbled that ordinary puke and piss can be turned into poetry of the (al)most highest order. Anthology on its way?
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Mon 23 Aug 2010, 5:00, closed)

I doubt it.
This is the first poem I've written since about primary school. Also, like I noted, I kinda failed on the whole 'consistent scansion' thing, mostly because I was half cut.
Perhaps I'll write more poems though...
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Mon 23 Aug 2010, 11:34, closed)

Alcohol
Is the muse. For an effort in a long while, it is a funny and silly poem and you should definitely try that out more. Click.
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Tue 24 Aug 2010, 7:06, closed)