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Pooetry

Poo Ohm Bomb

I am the Zen master of taking dumps.
Each nugget splashes in with a thump.

I centre my being and relax my cheeks.
Then imagine a tranquil brown flowing creek.

Calm and quiet is my mind and soul.
Soon will be torrents oozing out my hole.

I whisper a mantra to Pooddah, and it brings me elation.
My bowel-bomb goes off and with it my fecal-frustration.

All my brown woes are expelled and forgotten.
All that remains is this stink so very rotten.

My peaceful mantra made Pooddah smile.
Even though this toilet has now been defiled.

Pure Pooetry

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