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Pooetry

The Wind and Brass Section

A trumpeting start…
To this huge shart.
No, it wasn’t in bed…
Nor in your head.
It was a loud fart.

Another triumphant toot.
Welcomes a steamy poot.
As it fires out fast…
A brown arc is cast.
And into the water, it shoots.

And yet another epic blast…
From the wind and the brass.
Is it music to your ears?
The bellowing of the rear.
Or disturbing wind I pass?

And the musical notes…
Like nuggets, they float.
Until I wipe and flush.
I’m not in any rush.
So enjoy my sick anecdote.

Pure Pooetry

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