let rot my mental status                                                           ­       
to fruit the flies
billow the belly through the button                                          
                                                      throat the needle thru the eye
sleeve the lamb back into the mutton
and make a glutton
of our air supply
guff it all out
       flatus

Flatulence breeds laughter


Come smile with me, as I sing you a song;
About God's little gift, to every man.
For we all like to laugh and forget all our worries
And we all like to laugh, whenever we can.


At a worldwide problem which just can't be solved;
Of epidemic proportions, it affects us all.
It's the funniest thing known, but embarrassing too;
But the louder the funnier, as long as it's not you.


It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number written straight from the heart.


It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, lahh!


Who dropped that off?  Who left us a present?
Who smells that bad?  Come on! Who the Hell is it?
******* that's bad, something smells like it's died.
You filled my lungs with a sickness, you brought a tear to my eye;
You made me wish I was a dog and I had no nose,
Then when you'd tell them of my story,
They'd say how does he smell?
(shout) AWFUL!


It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****,
It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number written straight from the heart.
It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
It's a stinky little number and it came from my ****,
It's flatulence! It's one big ****!
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la,
La, lahh!


Well it's time to end this song,
With no more bad **** jokes in sight.
It's time to wander on,
With just a trumpety, trump; goodnight.


(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

i barely get ma palm pilot sized
   dear derriere i.e. gluteus maximus in the air
just a cat whisker across the DeMilitarized Zone
  (DMZ in military parlance),

   when the Earth shuddered from blare
ring fusillade expressed detonation
   issued by Kim Jung Un,
   whose craven dark excitement clear

motive predicated
   to lob Holiday nuclear missiles,
   and South Koreans (no matter
   mostly innocent victims), whelp hay dear

for siding, identifying, fraternizing, colluding,
   et cetera with the enemy (in general,
   the NATO bound countries) 'ere
really quiet, as preparation (H) gets made

   to bring out the big guns
   (actually shaped like a fleshy
   posterior man bun) in truth one
   dead reckoning sphincter muscle

   that doth flair
impossible to espy, cuz sieve
   all the flak whistling induce sing a glare,
but...the Hermit Kingdom got another

   bad a$$ bombardier deathly, stealthily quiet,
   hence released **** Jed
  eye ordnance impossible to hear
yet this silent deadly *** sass sin hated

   hard as a ribbed rock stainless steel
   guaranteed to wreak havoc, with loathing
   and other emotions hints sin sere
which top secret (never bottomed out

   during test practice trials,
   whereat Johnny spot on)
   proved to vaporize underwear
and caused a "big stink"
   that lasted about one year.

what information divulged
   ye moost promise never to share
else...any turn coats
   can not muster posterior haste,

   yet will need to seek out specialty
   of proctologist who doth rear
lee **** seed unfortunate victim
   blind sided immune to any prayer

so...upon confiding this tidbit,
   I strongly advise tubby not near
as you might already correctly guess,
   when while mooning Pyongyang

well taut smart cheeks,
   with blasting buttocks akin to
   young Frankenstein blazing saddles
as sole oozing gaseous
   flatulence majority

   of North Koreans will not here
amidst din and clangor "bad medicine"
   propelled ****** bowel
   movement game changer

   will hit designated target precisely clear
t'will invite "freedom fighters"
   tubby regaling with a jubilant aire
total mortal Kombat levels threat of "Fat Boy",

whose po' country mutilated,
   reduced, wasted to ashes after
   every nuclear and
   traditional military contrivance,
  an IC a BM (mine) did destroy.