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Pooetry, The High Seas

A Whale of a Time

The skies above are raining cats and dogs.
But in my porcelain, it’s a storm of bogs.

A wet one gushes out and swirls as if funnelled.
If there were any fish they’d surely be pummeled.

With its very own current, this slush is mighty strong.
And its aroma confirms its all kinds of wrong.

But this is nothing as the main event draws near.
My brown eye opens and I shake with fear.

My rump jiggles as the monstrous birthing begins.
On these treacherous waters, no one wins.

And now without further ado…
I strain hard and begin the poo.

With a rotting stink outward flops the sea creature.
From the brown abyss wriggles the fecal feature.

I sweat and groan releasing this mammal of might…
I have to remind myself this is no ordinary shite.

For this beast is from Davey Jones’ Locker.
And I know right away it’ll be a pipe blocker.

I take a peak and suddenly I turn pale.
For what I’ve birthed is a giant brown whale.

Pure Pooetry

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