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Pooetry

Sloppy Jalopy

I rush to the loo for a sloppy jalopy.
Slime seeps out with a resounding ploppy.
Smell is bearable if there is such a thing.
But rectum feels loose like a natural spring.
No mess this time, I won’t need the moppy.

A review of the bowl was a huge mistake.
Got too close and inhaled rancid steak.
It knocked the wind out of me,
Vision blurred, I was seeing three.
The contents were a bubbling brown cake.

I slammed the flush button with all urgency.
This fecal had to go, it was an emergency.
In its death throes, it circled the end.
I sighed as it neared the S-bend.
Then I shrieked as it made a foul resurgency.

Pure Pooetry

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