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Pooetry

Tropical Turd Troubles

Awakening on my tropical island I try to chillax…
But I feel like I’ve drunk a litre of turbo lax.

It’s quite abrupt and out of the blue.
Like my lagoon, but this feels like a sticky glue.

Swaying in my hammock I feel the rumbling so strong.
Then from my rear comes a trumpeting warning song.

My stomach twists and gurgles yet again.
I close my eyes and channel my bowel master zen.

I look to my left and then to my right.
While I clench my buttocks tight.

Behind me lies the beach island path.
In my hand is a freshly opened coconut half.

Flooding back, my memory springs forth.
Much like the looming liquid swarth.

I may have an addiction to the coconut.
As a result, it’s played havoc on my butt!

Pure Pooetry

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