A Poem (Inspired by Bazmorningstar)
When I was a lad around two months or more,
I had a strange skill that I had not before.
I lay in my cradle 'til one fateful day,
when my mother had changed me, and then gone away,
to pick up some Pampers from the room perpendic'
I discovered this fantastic, wonderful trick.

I lay on my back, and with all of my might,
I opened my legs and spewed forth the shite.
It covered the walls, the windows and then,
It wasn't done there, for again and again,
The orangey muck that, in bowels babies make,
Was spread 'cross the carpet like a dropped pasta bake.

'Oh no!' cried my mother in woe and disgust
For my mother hates even the presence of dust
'This mess will take hours to clean and shampoo!'
Why couldn't you have waited 5 minutes to poo?
This is the first reason I'll be sent to Hell
And it's a good thing my mother has no sense of smell.

True story.

I fancied writing a poem. I wish it had been about something other than poo, though.
( Grokthought wouldn't pay that for Chinese 5-Spice, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 4:34, 1 reply)

wahey!
poetry FTW!
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 13:18, closed)