Out of a **** he made Great Art It was no ordinary **** no! It was straight from the heart, that **** It had lain too long in the dark Now was it's time to start To make its bid for freedom... and for stardom.
It flew like a dart that **** from the heart Like an arrow strung from Cupids bow Little did it know how luminous it'd glow Becoming one of the Greats in the Farting Canon.
It was probably the greatest **** poem ever written In my own humble opinion It was very daring and it smelt of onion It was certainly the fairest fartiest poem I ever seen If it was one of the three Musketeers It would have to have been D'artagoine.
It inflated like a balloon, blew up like a great glass bubble Then it popped and headed off toward England Flying further afield than any **** had ever flown It touched people's hearts, bewitched every nation Resounded around the world Yea! was heard in every Kingdom.
It flew long, it rounded the Horn Like a Lark, that ****, it soared and sung It was no boring old **** It was far fartier and fruiter than that It was a King of Farts Way above the fartiest of farters and all the farting Arthurs It was the real King Arthur The King Arthur of all farts and Farters.
A real Belter was that **** that came from the heart That had all the Angels singing in their cloisters, A real work of Art just like Mozart Or remember... remember your Shakespeare "Hark! A ****, a ****! Whereforth art ? Thou ****" It played its part, that ****, yea! it wielded its Excalibur.
O! there's nothing I'd rather do than lie here blowing sweet bubbles next to you You! on your little flutey flute flute and Me! on my big Bass Trombone.
This is the sequel to my other **** poem "Music a la Toilette". A bit of silliness/ fun.
Via the phone When I heard your voice Having a friendly tone-- At long last you have won-- My diffidence and anxiety gone An electrifying ecstasy Charged my heart's zone, Who fate was To ceaselessly lament and moan.
The vein inundating feeling You evoked, anon, Percolated down to every bone To each love thirst To atone!
I am from the seasons That never ends They repeat their memories Repeating them selves Dead branches white snow Blue sky the sun’s glow Red leaves the winds blow Green grass the river’s flow These bewitching seasons enamor me no end Memories tug at my soul In their depth I blend Besotted by seasons I am They leave me in jam Clocks turn, Seasons change Memories and moments one can’t exchange Accepting each season Approaching each moment I breathe in cold frigid air And exhale warm clouds Seasons are happy Seasons are sad Seasons are beautifully mad I am from the seasons That never ends They repeat their memories Repeating themselves.
Well had to write something for school online magazine !