Both are similar,
Both have content matter,
Both save hassles,
One in communicating,
The other from washing,
Both have to be checked often,
What is going to happen,
One to see what is up,
The other to check what is the pile up.
What are they, "Sirs."
They are Whats app and pampers.

Well what can I say, he says I'm an ****,
I just told him he was just full of air..
But we were the closest of friends and were
always found close together like pees in a pod.

"So what's the plan for today windy,
"We just going to gas? or we just breathing in silence?

"I thought you were pulling the other cheek,
But all that comes out of you is crap Hahaha.....

They were always getting each other in trouble with
one thing or another, if it wasn't **** holding wind in,
it was **** whispering in a lift. But not so silently,
more like a  tiny trumpet going off for moments at a time.

There was one time were **** was letting off as usual,
but he let just a little too much out, and in that moment
he told ****.

"That was close, I was one **** away from a poo,

**** couldn't  contain himself and amusement turned
to horror as laughter had loosened both there grips.
And now Mr Poo who usually went diving in
the porcelain pools was now frequenting  upon both.

I think I'm going to be sick said ****, **** laughted and
then another friend of Poo's joined the party, cleanliness
was obsolete, now as it was like a food fight in close quarters.
Poo slipped out to freedom down the trouser leg and "SPLAT,

**** and ****, stunned by poo's lack of grace. "Could have
stayed for a while, But **** conceded that he would have
just talked crap, like he did every time he popped out
to see his friends.

Well what could be said, a wet wipe, and **** forgot poo
had even been there. But his odour still lingered gently on.
**** was gassing on and **** clenched so not to
expel to much laughter.. especially in enclosed areas.
**** was just gassing, this duo were always going
be the closest of friends.

Then it must be strong and true
For love is all that matters
That is unless you need a poo.

i am compelled to write poetry
in much the same way
as i am compelled by my
bowel movements:
the process, experience, and results
are pretty much no different for me.

I hate the cold, I hate the snow
I hate these lights that flash and glow,
I hate mince pies they taste to sweet.

I hate the fact i gain the weight as
There is to much to eat.
I hate to diet I like the way I am.
I hate  carollers that cant even sing,

I hate the thought of happiness and joy.
I hate the fact that 50,s films are played
On Tv is it me or do they just bore.
I hate that i have no chimney.
I hate the reindeer pooing on my welcome
Mat, doesn,t santa know how to clear up
His mess instead of me.

I hate the season but the cold one the
Most I hate that Christmas isnt in the
Summer when I tan and enjoy it the most.

I hate lots of things its clear to see,
But i do love my presents that santa leaves
Wrapped under my *Christmas tree.

In mouth, put-
choo-choo kazoo chomp chomp YUM!
Mmmm MMMMMMmmm.
Whosagoodbaby!?
Whosagoodbaby!?*

The infant hears,
wondering if all adults talk this way,
chuckling to himself, the ridiculousness tickling his vibrating mind
looking on at the goofy giant babbling  gibberish
who seems oddly ecstatic
to feed colorful mush.
The child contemplates the intricacies of communicating
the smelly in his shorts.

I poo how 'bout you?
Are you someone that poos too?
Life is but a flush