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Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/5/2019

Sitting on the perch the rooster boasted:
soon the king of swimmers I'll be
and laurel wreath I will get:
Cos the champion of champions I am in this respect!
The hens, excited, clucked in admiration,
small yellow chicks silently listened in awe,
oinking happily were the piglets,
and the ducks? Like crazy they laughed!

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/15/2001
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Adam S Aug 2019
Please sing the following to the melody of (Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay.


Sittin' for my morning poo,
Every morning it's what I like to do,
Hearing the ***** fall in,
Then I'll watch them flush away again

Sittin'  for my morning poo,
Letting one piece-a crap out or two
Sittin'  for my morning poo,
Making this rhyme

Well sometimes it's like torture
'Specially when I make a mess
Whilst it can seem like a chore
My straining always tends to end in success

So I'm just sitting for my morning poo
Taking a crap whilst here on the loo,
Sittin' for my morning poo,
Making this rhyme

Looks like I'm all outta luck,
There's no toilet paper here; oh ****
But all while there's nobody here to witness
Well I guess I'll just use my fist

Sittin' here using my hand
And I hope that all of you'd understand
Didn't have much of a choice
Use my hand or let my pants get all moist

Sittin' here taking a ****
With my hand smelling like a cesspit
Sittin' here taking a ****
Making my rhymeee

*Whistles
Adam S Mar 2015
Walking around with my head held low,  
Unable to escape this status quo,
Understanding that feelings I thought were gone,
Were only suppressed even after so long

Sands swallow my feet as the tide comes closer,  
This never ending search an emotional roller coaster,
But I've not stopped looking,  each night and day,
Ever since that moment when I flushed my poo away,  

I walk along the beach,  perhaps he's landed there,
It pains me so much,  as he'll think I didn't care,
I sent him away like a discarded used ******,
I take each step carefully incase my poo I do stamp on

I've even checked the sewage works,
They shout "away!  You're not authorised",
If only they understood,
Just how much I've been traumatised

Thus this journey I must continue,
Until my poo I rediscover,
Whilst I suffer constant cramps,
As I refuse to make another.
If this confuses you I suggest you check my previous poem entitled flushed.
Adam S Mar 2015
POO.

IT COMES BUT ONCE A DAY, UNLESS IVE ALTERED MY EATING, THEN TWO, MAYBE THREE TIMES I SHALL GIVE MY BOG A GREETING. ITS CONSISTENCY IS ALWAYS UNIQUE, WITH EGGS IT BECOMES QUITE TOUGH, AND IT TENDS TO EXPLODE LIKE SHRAPNEL ON THEM MORNINGS WHEN FEELING ROUGH.

POO.
Adam S Mar 2015
PERHAPS POO IS LIKE A BLESSING, PERHAPS SIMPLY A CHORE, IT INVITES YOU TO THE BATHROOM, IT WANTS TO GO EXPLORE, AND SOME SAY POO IS STRAINING HARD, AND SOME SAY TO RELAX, AND SOME SAY POO NEEDS FIBRE TO COME, AND SOME SAY JUST USE LAX
Adam S Mar 2015
POO!

SOME OF US DO BIG ONES, OTHERS MAY DO DROPPINGS, SOME OF US DO QUIET ONES, OTHERS DO LOUD PLOPPINGS. SOME OF US DO FRAGRANCE FREE, AND OTHERS MAY CAUSE A STENCH, SOME OF US HAVE IT SIMPLY SLIDE OUT, OTHERS FEEL LIKE THEY MUST BENCH.

POO.
Adam S Dec 2014
The night was calm and silent
Until I heard a shriek,
I knew it was my girlfriend,
For her I went to seek!

In the bathroom she was standing,
She looked to be in fear,
Then with her words that followed,
The situation became quite clear

"The toilet seat is up!" she cried
"What is wrong with you?"
"The toilet seat is up" I concurred
"Cos I didn't take a poo"

"It's not hard to place it down,
So really what's the issue?
If it grosses you out to touch it
I suggest you use a tissue "

She yelled at me for an hour,
Whilst I just rolled my eyes,
"Imagine I sat straight down" she said
"And developed a rash on my thighs"

This whole traumatic experience,
Has led me to a decision,
I'll put it down real nice in future,
But **** on it with precision
Adam S Nov 2014
It was twenty past two,
In my bed I was snoozing
Soon to be awoken,
Though not through my choosing

I needed to urinate,
I had to go and ***,
Not one beer before bed,
Instead I had three

Not that I was drunk,
Not even a little,
The issue you could say -
My wakefulness was brittle

I went to the bathroom,
Not turning on a light,
A lapse of judgement,
I'll admit in hind sight

My urethra had opened,
My ***** did ****,
But unfortunately my friends,
It was quite the bad miss

In the darkness I stood,
As I threw down a towel,
An action that ultimately,
Only led to a row

Apparantly this mopping,
And a squirt of febreeze,
Just wasn't enough,
To put my girlfriend at ease.

— The End —