Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bardo Jan 2021
(Scene: A funeral service, at the graveside. Two mourners talking to one another)

Duncan died then, so he finally gave up his goose.

< (disapprovingly) Gave up his ghost not his goose! >

Tis sad, very sad.

< Aye, maybe twas for the best, I heard he'd been sufferin'... He's gone to a better land now. >

(Looking at him amazed, having not heard properly) He what ! He's gone where!! He's gone to the Netherlands!!!

< He's gone to a better land!  a better land!! A better place!!! For fecks sake! >

(A lone Piper starts to play a lament by the graveside)

(after a few moments listening) I love the sound of the poops. A lone **** in the wind....He's a fine wee pooper that lad.

< He's a Piper not a Pooper!
(under his breath) Only Pooper around here is you. (smiles to himself thinking) A Super Pooper. (smiles even more) A Super Duper Pooper. >

Y'know he was quite a pooper himself in his day, was Duncan. I can still remember his pooping well. A Prize Pooper was Duncan, his pooping was often the talk of the town.

< (sadly & dreamily) Well, no more will his...his poops be heard around the Glens. Only silence now and the wind....o'er the heather, the fields and the crags. >

I'm not a bad pooper myself y'know.

< (smiles)  I bet ye are. >

< (thinks to himself) But the heather will bloom again, and the children, they'll play in the meadows.>
I think I'll have this read at my funeral LoL. More silliness. A kind of a sequel to The Goose of Gainly  Hall.
Eryri Oct 2018
There was death and gore,

During the second world war.

Many people died in extreme violence,

Killed before they could call out to loved ones.

Young men were trained to ****,

Often against their morals and will.

So when I see your 1940s weekend -

Your 'war was fun and cosy' pretence,

Your clichéd polyester and fibre glass mockery,

Aiming to re-enact a mostly imagined happy-go-lucky camaraderie -

Forgive me for not joining in,

As I happen to feel it a cardinal sin,

To idealise and romanticise a decade,

Made up of austerity, rationing and air raids.

I've read a little social history,

The 1940s were not idyllic or crime-free,

Just as now, there were heroes and villains,

Among the soldiers and civilians.

Heroism abounded but so did black marketeering,

There were brave sacrifices but also racketeering.

City-wide black-outs were a gift,

To those who would rob and grift.

Your jolly nostalgic tribute is an annual celebration,

Celebrating your own fabrication,

Of a time when the machinations of war and a crazed ideology,

Saw the near extinction of an entire ethnic minority.

I do not wish to be a party pooper,

But don't just step into the fake shoes of a fictional trooper,

Please occasionally remove your rose-tinted glasses,

To remember that beyond your nostalgic narrative of the routines of the masses,

People lived with the daily fear,

Of the likely deaths of people they held dear.
A little bitter and exaggerated perhaps.
GaryFairy Aug 2021
I went to close the window because it was getting windy and rainy. "can't leave this **** window open anyhow, without aluminum dust settling over the room"...Grrrr! ******* f-f-****** factory!"

Oh **** I said ******! To myself, out loud. I felt something coming up in my chest! Laughter! Why, that factory doesn't even have a ***** besides the one it uses to **** my environment. I guess that's gay. Not in a happy or homosexual way, but in a way I am against.
So, what does this make me? A gay basher? Someone who has hit it off with almost every gay man I ever met? I always felt like they get me, which makes me feel good. I did find out a couple really did want to get me in the pooper, which made me feel even better than "getting me".

Just because it's not my lifestyle or I don't believe in it, doesn't mean I hate gay people. Does it?  I mean I don't believe in *** with women either.

{Just leave this here so kids don't go to xhamster, which is uncensored.  I wrote this after seeing a blogger talking about how a guy said an amusement park was gay, and not as good as his favorite park. An amusement park should be gay! Anyhow, there are actually people fighting over this crap. I know words can hurt, but so does being burned 5 times on the face with a cigarette. Yet, I don't blame everyone with a cigarette, just the guy who burned me.  I bet if you dug up the men from the gay 90's they would feel a certain way about how gay is used now. I wish we could dig them up and send them after the bloggers who do nothing really, and **** sure have no gay fun. I believe that the use of bad words in poetry shows a weak vocabulary. Sometimes it's needed.)
my dad can lick your dad
Obadiah Grey Jun 2010
Bless all the barmaids that have ever lived
who carried featherlite, n knobbly ribbed,
who listened to waffle n crap I spoke
who granted liddle me, a slap n poke,
who parted ***** whilst in drunken stooper
n gave the bird, to the party pooper,
the big ones, the small ones, the fat n thin
god bless slappers, that invited me in,
bejeezus begorra, mag da horra,
bless all barmaids, I'll **** on the morra,
******* big ***, n the ones that pass gas,
god bless the ones that I’ve yet to harass,
for whisky, for beer, god bless ya m’dear,
even big sally; fer the gonorrhea.

Alan nettleton.
Guss Nov 2013
Drunken stupor
Pooper scoopers
Give me a shooter.
Then riding scooters.
I found my wife
the one for life.
Working at my local *******.
THE PARTY AT PRINCE REGENT HOTEL FOR NEW YEARS


YA SEE WE PARTIED AT PRINCE REGENT HOTEL

ON NEW YEARS EVE, OH YEAH THAT SOUND SWEET

YA SEE THE CHEF HAD A BIG FRY UP WITH LEFT OVER SNAGS AND STEAKS

UEAH THAT SOUNDS SO COOL

AND ALL THE MEN SAT IN THE CORNER, DUDE

SAYING TOO EACH OTHER, WHAT A FINE COLLECTION OF *****

AND ONE FATHER GAVE HISW 8 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER SCOTCH AND COKE

AND DESPITE THE HOTEL STAFF HATING IN, THEIR HANDS WERE TIED

GREG LIKED THAT INTEGRITY, OH YEAH, DUDES, THOUGHT IT WAS RAD

CAUSE GREG WASN’T GOING TO BE LABLED A PARTY POOPER

IN EVERY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION

GREG DECIDED TO LAY LOW FOR A WHILE, SO HE GOT DRESSED UP AS THE NEW YEAR TIGER, DUDE

AND PUT ON A LITTLE SHOW FOR THE KIDS TO ENJOY THEIR NEW YEARS

GREG WAS A BIT WEIRD CAUSE HE WAS FORCING KIDS TO LISTEN TO HIM LISTEN TO HIM LISTEN TO HIM

THE KIDS WERE TIRED BUT GREG STILL FORCED THE KIDS TO LISTEN TO HIS NEW YEAR TIGER SHOW

YA SEE THIS DAY WAS START OF MY PARANORMAL VOICES YA SEE

YOU SEE ROSLYN MARRIED ME, CAUSE I WAS FORCING KIDS TO WATCH MY SHOWS

WHETHER THEY WERE TIRED OR NOT

YA SEE, WHEN I WAS YOUNG IN THIS LIFE, I HEARD VOICES OF PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT ME, BEHIND MY BACK

I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF IT AT FIRST, AND PEOPLE ARE RIBBING ME, BY SAYING SHUT UP WOOSEY

TO ME, AND NOW AS I REMEMBER, AS THE DINNER WAS OVER, JOSEPH PEANUCKLE

DECIDED TO GO TO HIS SUITE TO GET HIS FLUTE TO ENTERTAIN THE CROWD

AND THE LADIES AND MEN DANCED WITH EACH OTHER AND GREG AND THE

HOTEL STAFF WERE TALKING TO EACH OTHER, ISN’T THIS WONDERFUL

AND EACH OF US HAS 6 MILLION POUNDS EACH, AND IF EACH OF THE STAFF

PUTS IN 1 MILLION POUNDS, PRINCE REGENT HOTEL CAN GET THE COUNTRY CLUB UPGRADE

THAT IT THOROUGHLY DESERVES, AND AS THEY PARTY INTO THE NIGHT, AT 11.55 PM

GREG DRESSED UP AS THE NEW YEAR TIGER AND SANG

I AM A TIGER IN A TOP HAT

A TIGER IN A WHITE TIE

AND WE’LL PARTY ON DOWN

YA SEE, I AM A TIGER IN A TOP HAT

A TIGER IN A WHITE TIE

AND COUNT ‘EM OWN

HE REPEATED THAT TILL THE BIG COUNTDOWN

AND LED THE COUNTDOWN

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 AND YELLED OUT HAPPY NEW YEAR

AND JOSEPH PLAYED AULD LENG ZINE ON THE FLUTE

AND PLAYED OTHER SONGS ON THE FLUTE TILL 1-29 AM IN THE MORNING

ALL THE HOTEL GUESTS, ALL WENT TO BED, WHILE GREG AND THE HOUSE KEEPERS

WERE CLEANING UP AFTERWARDS, AND THIS HAPPENED EVERY YEAR OF THE

1817 TO 1819, THE 1820S THE 1830S THE 1840S

AND GREG WAS GREAT, EACH YEAR BRINGING THE NEW YEAR IN WITH A GRIN

HAPPY NEW YEAR, FROM THE OLD FASHIONED PRINCE REGENT HOTEL

AND ALL UPGRADES WERE SUCCESSFUL, MELBOURNE WERE THE TALK OF THE COUNTRY BACK THEN

HAPPY NEW YEAR
Rhianecdote Apr 2015
He took issue with the small gestures in life. The birthday message from a friend not seen in a decade, the idol chit chat that filled the cafe's, cinema's and other such places, proclaiming them fraudulent unthinking habit, a motion with no true sentiment and in return the followers of such social constructs took issue with him - or worse, pitied him.

He despised most human interaction because of this. Often being told that he 'rubbed people up the wrong way' or was 'too antagonistic' He just saw this as another excuse to expel him from the group (whatever that group was) All because he didn't partake in the usual social etiquette and fakery of the masses- this view only led to him being mocked further and neatly labelled as a stroppy, teenage rebel. His thoughts and voice cut down with replies of "Aaah stop feeling sorry for yourself!" "Stop going on about it!" " You're soo negative!" Because in all honesty nobody wants to be around a down in the dumps, killjoy, party pooper right?

He could find no solace in the little things nor understanding in the greater questions of life, so he drifted along. Bitter onlooker to a species so separate from his own. Desperate to somehow integrate into their ranks but convincing himself that such thoughts were mere acts of desperation.

And he was a desperate young man, desperate and despairing at his separation from the world and all others in it. Yet admittance to such feeling would rarely depart his form. No, he would mock and ogle at them from afar.
**He would rather be Outcast than Cast Out.
Well I'm going through my 19 year olds self depressive ramblings, aptly named ******* or Genius: Undecided and I found this. Not poetry I know but hey **!
Andre I'm pretty sure this is about you mate! *sigh* the lost years man, deep times. What a right pair of Moody ******* we were! XD
K Balachandran Jan 2012
party pooper hijacked the heart throb,
the party progressively got rotten-
till the day break.
Classy J Oct 2016
Classy J going array, with such sassy display to you’re overbearing dismay. Blasting off today, I’m as cool as sorbet, but yet as hot as soufflé. Everlasting eternities as the cycle goes on for humanity, where some live for the moment and others search for divinity. ****** prey wanting me on their tray, the only thing I’ll give you is the direction to the doorway. Rick Ashley stray’s, I’ll throw yawl back out in the alleyway. Future class, never ever low on gas, if you mess with me, I’ll shatter you like glass. I’ll use a computer bypass, to shove a virus up your ***, not to be played with, bro don’t you know that I’m bats. I don’t butcher the masses, or overburden you like taxes, I’m just your average Joe trying to make good of all this blackness.

Not a sore loser, nor a party pooper dear querying lass, I stand my ground; yeah you bet I got ***** of brass. While some of yawl puff the grass, this creature is trying to cure the world’s tumor created by us jack assess. Don’t run on flats, tackling my demons to the mat, yeah I have gotten through life by crawling down its crevasse! Don’t listen to rumors, some call me a trooper, you have to learn how to maneuver all haters and accusers. Living life by focusing on the hourglass, I’m not one to sit idle peeping out the looking glass. But forget all of that because life is nuts, and I’m just an outlet that slams the hard truth to your guts. Enough with your meaningless chitchat, I’m done with all yawl fretting and *******, time to buck up pussycats. Your listening to a lyrical architect, don’t have time for rats or insects, this is just apart of the classy effect.

I don’t make threats, don’t you forget I make promises that will eventually be met. I’m just a twisted afflicted un-constricted gifted individual who tries his best not to be too cynical. It’s so inconceivable but yet so believable, not your typical rapper, yeah I got principal. I am always original, I am a mystical miracle; yeah I’ll be making sure you know I’m no longer going to be invisible. Beat the odds, unlike all these frauds, I know my place, I’m definitely not a God. Heated rods of critics who keep on trying to burn me, but it just feels like a thorn to me. Street with needs to meet, used to the odds, so don’t think we’ll grovel at your feet. We are not mincemeat, we are not just going to take a backseat, we stubborn as concrete, yeah we are not going to retreat.

Privileged trying to turn us neat and tidy, without them they say we incomplete, that even though we coloured we should strive to be just another ignorant whitey. Don’t you know it’s all about image? We are savages, yet they are the one’s who diseased and burned down our villages. No I don’t seek forgiveness from wily coyotes, we are not a showpiece, like some kind of conquest trophy. No I’m not finished, is there something wrong with your psyche, naughty sly feisty vermin that itch like poison ivy. I politely tell you to ****, love the irony of your fear and hate of aliens, when you yourselves came to this land from a ship, which to us was a UFO. Anyways like I said, I may go off on different tangents or phases, because there are places one needs to tread. I like to educate airheads, I like to make em red; yeah I don’t leave things unsaid.
I want to unthread this sideways planet, if you’re looking for someone who doesn’t mince words; well I’m your prime candidate.

E-town is what I represent, legacy I will cement, rap game I came to resurrect. Let’s rundown the extent of these frequent fallacious formalities, those auto-tuned drugged up wangsters that are the definition of distasteful unoriginality. I frown upon the dissent of where rap ended up, it sure need a classy clean up. I know music is subjective that it is all in perspective, but to me this garbage kids listen to is far from impressive. I find trap music ineffective and unreflective, I don’t respect something so obstructive. That’s just my two cents, and though to me it makes no sense, others may not agree and still listen to that senseless content. What I’m trying say is opinions are like *******, everyone got one, but that’s what makes us unique souls. This is just a part of the classy effect, can’t wait for what happens next, can’t wait for changes to manifest.
Raven Sep 2013
They say to stop being a victim and to be a survivor
But then they add fuel the fire
They say life is to short so live it while you can
How is that possible when we're dictated by man
And I hate to be the 'party pooper' as they say
But they're a tad bit misguiding I mean who follows these everyday
They are fun to look at and inspiring to read
But its time to start living them
Are you gonna lead?
Maxine Robbins Oct 2014
I wonder if you’ve ever looked at yourself in the mirror
And stared at your haggard face in your drunken stupor
I wonder if you think you couldn’t have made it any clearer
That we can’t be friends if I am always your party pooper

I wonder if you look at yourself and notice that you’ve changed
It’s not your looks idiot, it’s who you are now
I wonder if you even bothered to notice our friendship is estranged
Or do you just wipe any deep thought away like sweat on your brow

Did the summer fly by so fast you forgot to talk to me
Did the parties come so quick you couldn’t text me back
Did you throw up the last precious remnants of who you used to be
Did you decide to let yourself fall off the track

I guess you thought that throwing me away was worth it if you could be cool
I guess you thought I just wouldn’t mind
I guess you probably don’t care that you look like the biggest ******* fool
I guess you drink to take your thoughts away from what you’re afraid to find

I remember when you told me how lonely you feel every day you’re here
And I guess your new friends are strangers and beer
I remember the only good thing alcohol did was get rid of your fear
You told me you loved me thanks to the whiskey and it was loud and clear

I wish I had the guts to tell you how much you’ve hurt me
But I don’t think you’d find me important enough to listen to anymore
I wish when you looked in that mirror that you would actually see
Who you are and how you’ve killed the person you were before
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Hanging out with smarties
At red plastic cup parties
Thinking they’re so cool
But they’re actually fools.
Skipping most of the classes
Since intellectuals are *****,
They clump and swarm like bugs
To compete with their drugs.

Who can last the longest and
Who is the most available
To do the chanciest behavior
And end drunk under a table?
The worst thing to ever be
Is seen as a party pooper
And not partying hardy is
Totally radical and super.

Pay someone to take your tests
Just like the timeless precedent.
Acting just like all the rest
Means popularity is heaven sent.
Later you’ll get hired for sure
For coming from the right school.
They’ll never guess you’re a dunce
A ne’er do well and a fool.

Hanging out with smarties
At red plastic cup parties
Thinking they’re so cool
But they’re actually fools.
Skipping most of the classes
Since intellectuals are *****,
They clump and swarm like bugs
To compete with their drugs.

Just like you care about fashion
You will buy the proper clothes.
You’ll slide in via the Old Boy Club
And come out smelling like a rose.
And since most people spend time
Paying for statues they have erected,
You’ll get yours all in good time
Because that’s who gets elected.

Then if you do what you’re told
And vote for the right corporation
You’ll get those many perks
They promised before graduation.
Just sit quietly and take the bribes
And say as little as you can
You will be what we call today
An extremely important man.

Hanging out with smarties
At red plastic cup parties
Thinking they’re so cool
But they’re actually fools.
Skipping most of the classes
Since intellectuals are *****,
They clump and swarm like bugs
To compete with their drugs.

This works for women as well,
But it’s not nearly as speedy.
Really the fat cats would prefer
You go be counsel for the needy.
But as long as you are quiet,
Agree with all the guys are doing.
You can act just like a man
And contribute to the general ruin.

Hanging out with smarties
At red plastic cup parties
Thinking they’re so cool
But they’re actually fools.
Skipping most of the classes
Since intellectuals are *****,
They clump and swarm like bugs
To compete with their drugs.
Pet Port A *****

I took a walk in the city today
to try to pass the time away.
Saw lots of people walking too
stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I'll invent something really super
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a ***** for our four legged friends
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I'll become famous for this awesome invention
at the monthly town meetings my name will be mentioned.
They'll throw a big party and dance in the streets
because never again will there be **** on our feet!

Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Q Nov 2013
Company is my friend
Who leaves the party first
No matter how hard
Loneliness and I have worked

The first to arrive is Anger
(Though no one really likes him)
He always brings Bitter
And sometimes Exhaustion

Tears comes by occasionally
But only when Depression's around
And when Suicide joins us
Every one leaves town

Insanity's a regular
But her humor is quite lame
And these are all my friends
And we do this every day

Help is the party-pooper
She's stuck up beyond belief
Always saying we just want Attention
Yet she only ever brings Grief

And so the party ends
And no one's feeling better
And every **** time I write
Suicide another letter
Emily Rene Jul 2013
I took a walk around the neighborhood today,
just to try to pass the time away.
I saw lots of people walking too,
I stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done,
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I'll invent something really super,
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a ***** for out four legged friends,
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I'll become famous for this awesome invention,
at the monthly town meetings, my name will be mentioned.
They'll throw a big party and dance in the streets,
because never again will there be **** on our feet.
Ryan Kairis Feb 2017
This one goes out to the ones who know what I mean
The ones who sit on the pooper, let go of nothing but a scream
A holler, a yell, a desperate cry, must be a dream
A **** me, why can’t I, send one floating down the stream
The ones who have seen their self esteem
Boil down to a terrifying extreme
I pooped today, we say
Just kidding, haven’t done so in 3 or 4 days
And we wait and we wait for it to pass past our way
But the train is a freight, blocking our path through the gates
This clogging I have deep inside my *******
Is a constant pain and urge, a persistent struggle
A puzzle really, a puzzle it is to my mind
How much prune juice must I guzzle until I can **** this time?
The toilet paper waits to wipe off my ***
The pebbles and streaks after the log runs
Don’t cover your eyes or ears, ladies, we all know that you do
You can’t hide from the truth, no perfect angel praying in pews
Although the fees of the males will claim they never poo
Everyone knows you all drop some gnarly doo doos
And that, too, some food for thought, to bite off and chew
Swallow your pride, give a big ol’ high five, when you release a number 2
And back to my problems, you know, how I can’t drop a ****?
Paul Revere can even say, this one, he’s already heard
And the hurt that I flirt with, the coming close to victory
All but escapes me, sitting to ****, flowing just a ***
It *****, I will say, I will say that for sure
If I may, I will pay it, I will pay to no longer endure
This feeling inside me, the prolonged clenching of the cheeks
I tell of this issue from a heart wrenching, a remember when we
****
Every day of the week
Thank you for inviting us all
To your pity party
Although the decor is intriguing
This place is not for me
Wipe the tears from your eyes
Then maybe you can see
No one wants an invite
To a pity party
Cath Devoid Feb 2016
Destroy me
With the frayed paintbrushes on your lids
Sun-baked and worn
Tanned and full of shame
Recreate me
With the forked tounge you master
Conducting orchestral chaos
On the inside of my skull
While I watch, and cry, from over here
On the pooper.
jeffrey robin May 2014
((
          ))
((
\/
/\
/    \

-   -   -   -   -

When I see her with her "admiring lovers "

It reminds me of a rich lady

Out walking her leashed dogs

••

When I see him with his " admiring lovers "

It looks like a guy dragging some leashed women

Down the street

••

They each got their -- POOPER SCOOPERS !

••

I sure hope they don't write some

LOVE POEMS !

••

( oh no !

Here they come !)

-----

Hey lady
Hey guy

Can I borrow your POOPER SCOOPER

for awhile !
Travis Frank Sep 2018
“What is he doing here?” was the first thing I heard
Upon entering John Lennon’s home once more,
Deciding in the end to pitch for the party,
Sleepers still being repaired and no trains running still.

The challenge came from Wendy the Witch,
Ex-recipient of roses,
Now thorny-tongued
And egged on by Lennon’s kid, the sneering host.

My bruised ego now vanishing the gift of speech,
Jane Seymour arrived with her medicine bag,
Taking me out under the dark, solitary tree
To take in some air and shop for stars.

“I wouldn’t worry about them much.
Their children will suffer for their occupancy of the womb of death.
You don’t have to, though – get out while you still can.
Now, open wide.” I felt better already.
Haiven Victoria Jul 2014
idk
I feel like if I give him what he wants he'll love me...even if he doesn't  he still does..
But I feel like a party pooper cause im not letting him do drugs...
Larry Borowsky – redux
(I underwent posterior probe
some years ago from 8/30/2018,
and accessed this poem
while watching the toilet bowl.)

Ask any devotee of above
   named gastroenterologist
officious military licensed
   cheeky knuckler,
   n’er kissed gluteus maximus –
   he soldiered thru med school
   despite getting pooped out
   rigorous regimen, now

   he knows irritable bowels of human
   excretory system, which iz
   alimentary and familiar flickr ring
   sleight of hand linkedin
   quicken wrist zooms into grab bag
   of medicinal tricks -
   mimics waving magic wand bitta bang
prestidigitation abracadabra

   of **** scope brings – dang
gustatory scenic aerated
   holy smoker of a ******,
   a waste land fang
less, but the seat of
   ****** berries sometimes hang
whence undergoing
   this behind the scenes procedure

   where smelly silent sonnets
   from sphincter sprang
most times flatulence
   relieved in private place
but, post op - probe ***
   boss aerates sterile space
scrutinizes patient living long,
   or departing from human race,

rearing specialist unheralded
   doctor relieves anguish
   without a trace
which gratitude spurred
   ****** attempt to compose verse
to express appreciation
   clean bill of health and dis purse
anticipatory anxiety,

   this pooper trooper
   endured with pseudo “nurse”
actually wife, who
   nudged me to undergo examination
   lest she bare witness
   becoming a widow
   following mine hearse
if hypothetical demise did pass,

   more'n wind deceased,
   would hear loud curse
analogous to unstoppable enema,
   (brought out from downed colyte)
   expletives interspersed with
   my name exhibiting master card
   shark cunning never forgiving
   nor forgetting how we happened

to be broke nearly the entire
   coup d’état of marriage –  reaching
   cheeky **** pinching
   catatonic state die n rapport,
   this generic guy saved
   from premature death viz ace sing  
   examination tantamount
   with flying colors –at least now,

   our two darling daughters
   can (in doo doo time), perhaps
   with children - longevity
   courtesy of doctor Larry Borowsky,
   whose honed trained
   hands n eyes (he iz hearing impaired)
   to scout out and ticket
   suspicious cellular demons,
   aim of innocuous microbes
   to destroy e pluribus enum alone!
Larry Borowsky – redux
(I underwent posterior probe
some years ago from 8/30/2018,
and accessed this poem
while watching the toilet bowl.)

Ask any devotee of above
   named gastroenterologist
officious military licensed
   cheeky knuckler,
   n’er kissed gluteus maximus –
   he soldiered thru med school
   despite getting pooped out
   rigorous regimen, now

   he knows irritable bowels of human
   excretory system, which iz
   alimentary and familiar flickr ring
   sleight of hand linkedin
   quicken wrist zooms into grab bag
   of medicinal tricks -
   mimics waving magic wand bitta bang
prestidigitation abracadabra

   of **** scope brings – dang
gustatory scenic aerated
   holy smoker of a ******,
   a waste land fang
less, but the seat of
   ****** berries sometimes hang
whence undergoing
   this behind the scenes procedure

   where smelly silent sonnets
   from sphincter sprang
most times flatulence
   relieved in private place
but, post op - probe ***
   boss aerates sterile space
scrutinizes patient living long,
   or departing from human race,

rearing specialist unheralded
   doctor relieves anguish
   without a trace
which gratitude spurred
   ****** attempt to compose verse
to express appreciation
   clean bill of health and dis purse
anticipatory anxiety,

   this pooper trooper
   endured with pseudo “nurse”
actually wife, who
   nudged me to undergo examination
   lest she bare witness
   becoming a widow
   following mine hearse
if hypothetical demise did pass,

   more'n wind deceased,
   would hear loud curse
analogous to unstoppable enema,
   (brought out from downed colyte)
   expletives interspersed with
   my name exhibiting master card
   shark cunning never forgiving
   nor forgetting how we happened

to be broke nearly the entire
   coup d’état of marriage –  reaching
   cheeky **** pinching
   catatonic state die n rapport,
   this generic guy saved
   from premature death viz ace sing  
   examination tantamount
   with flying colors –at least now,

   our two darling daughters
   can (in doo doo time), perhaps
   with children - longevity
   courtesy of doctor Larry Borowsky,
   whose honed trained
   hands n eyes (he iz hearing impaired)
   to scout out and ticket
   suspicious cellular demons,
   aim of innocuous microbes
   to destroy e pluribus enum alone!
Sometimes people miss the truth about God.
Losing having fun because you start to follow him.
Running on empty, hiding from God here.
He doesn't want to ruin your life my friend.
But he wants to use you and bless you as well.
For Christ is not a party-pooper here on earth.
He drank alcohol when he was here on earth.
He just never abuse the alcohol on earth here.
He ate some awesome meals as well here too.
So do not feel by giving him your life here.
That you shall never enjoy life here again.

— The End —