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Bardo Aug 2019
O! I went to the loo to do a number
    two
Only one cubicle was vacant, the rest
    they were all taken
"Looks like a full house today" I
     thought to myself
Man! I was bustin' to go
As I sat there on my throne in my
    cockpit all alone
There came this funny rumbling
    sound from down below
And then, this fearsome volley.... a  
    fantastic farting
And then, a great release
As finally I dropped my bombs with
    studious aplomb
O! what a relief !

"Man! ", I said to myself, " I must
      lay off that Aloe Vera juice
That stuff it goes right through you "
But then, something strange, from the
    cubicle right next to me
Came this other big thunderous ****
    explosion
A big fat blubbery balloony one
It sounded like a tuba gone wrong
And then! And then, another one! this
    one further down the line
This time a big bubble and squeaky
    one
And then! yet another! a funny little
    flute-ey one
Like it just squirreled out in the nick
    of  time
And then finally, another!!! a big Big
    Bellow like from some wonky
        trumpet
A real rasper, he must have thought he
    was doin' the solo
Man! It was so funny, one right after
    the other, you had to laugh
It was.... well, it was Gas !!!
Lucky no one struck a match
Or else it might have been... yea!
    Jumpin' Jack Flash !!!

It was like listening to a whole scale of
    *** notes
Such a strange symphony, these
    wondrous excursions in Sound
For a moment there, it reminded me a
     bit of Beethoven,
It was no celestial choir that's for sure
It was something altogether more dire,
Like something you'd hear in a
    farmyard byre
The animals all gathered at the trough
It was like all the bottoms were
    conversing with one another,
        having a chat
Plotting a rebellion even, an uprising,
    a coup d'etat
Against that other much more
    celebrated Opening
That much vaunted Hole in the Face,
    the Mouth!
That puffed up preening Prima Donna
    with his preposterous outpourings
His Monstrous, pompous inflated Self-
   importance
Sitting up there stuffing himself and
    forever spouting nonsense
"Sure, we do all the work down here",
  the Bottoms were saying, " and we
    talk a lot more sense as well"
They posed the question "Can a Bottom speak more Truth than a
    Mouth ?"
These defiant derrieres, these proud
    posteriors
With their proud exultations
Sticking a firm ******* up at that so-called world of respectability up
     there
That world of petrified good manners
Suffocating! Oppressing! with its
    stifling mores and traditions
Yea!....for sure, the rebel Masses, they
    were just a bunch of Bad *****.

O! the air it was blue just like Pepe Le
    Pew
I could have sworn I seen a big blue
    gaseous cloud ascending
Heading up toward the ceiling
Like a great Cloud of Unknowing
    except with a bit more foreboding
Reminded me of William Wordsworth
    & his lonely cloud a-wandering
But then I thought, did Wordsworth,
    Shelley or Keats ever write
An Ode to His **** ?
Was it too dark a side to show, too
    dark a place to go
The Dark Side of the Back Side
The Dark Side... of the Moon.

Pepe! Pepe Le Pew, that old Don Juan,
    Casanova of the old cartoons
It was then, my Love, it was then I
    thought of you
I smiled and said to myself"I know
    what I'll do
I'll blow out another sweet blue
    raspberry one just for you....
Oh yea!....that one was lovely, that one
    was true
I think that one had your name
    written on it
O!  I do".

And now as Pepe might say " Adieu! adieu!.....Sweet, sweet Adieu! ".

                       Ende
This is really lowering the tone. 'Bout time I wrote a real stinker, this one stonks to high heavens, it probably won't go into the stratosphere but it'll certainly go into the Ozone layer By the way the "Moon' bit, to moon someone as a verb means to show your bottom to them. Also Apologies to Beethoven, man was a genius apparently.  - By the way, Does my *** look big in this???
Ziya mansoor Jul 2019
On a blazing day
with brand new thought
But found that
the heart which was like an flying bird
which used to travel without tickets
and used to think whatever it needed
but now ...
it was blank
it didn't go anywhere

it didn't think anything
it was blank


Don't know why
Don't know what


I walked there and here
towards the stoop
in one way I was alone and behind
from the world
in another way I was along and infront
of the world

I took a second
To open and close my eyes
the heart which was blot out
as a  new balloon
was now blown
and filled
with new ideas and thoughts
  

At times a second can give a second chance
Colm Jul 2019
Waiting for you two
To pass as me by a one
Only then we'll find
Two, A Single Man's Haiku
We were two halves
trying to fit
our pieces
together.

We took away
fragments of
ourselves
apart,
little by little.

Not knowing
we were already
slicing chunks
off of each other
becoming someone
we no longer
recognize.

It was then
we realized,
no matter
how much
effort we put,
how much
we stripped off,
we couldn't force
the pieces to fit.

You and I,
we weren't right
but
at least
we tried.
I tried to change for you, you tried to change for me.
I tried to change you. You tried to change me.
We tried to make things work between us but we just couldn't fit.
shining diamonds Jun 2019
two lines
is not a poem
its two lines
it has no substance
no structure
its a thought
someone caught
is it noteworthy
not in the least
but the person
who writes without
themselves
there not present
here in the moment
of all the people who do such
who think it only takes that much
should give your head a wobble
it's just a load of cobble  
the two lines are just that
like a load of tatt
truly
poetry comes from a calling
a memory
a feeling
is nothing dust blowing in the breeze
you make a mockery of the art
like you just would ****
all over your page
not bleed at any stage
is it because your simply
not smart enough
to have a worthy entry
dig deeper into your soul
if you lack the talent
of this simple art
pray tell
are you worth more than
a **** ?
if you throw art away
thinking you can walk away
then i have this to say
your not an artist
your stuck in self pity
look in the mirror and think
where did you go
or did you just blink
those two lines
bug me more than
any times
i've seen anything else
are your not incapable
or simply not know how
i think you just don't give
the art the respect it so needs
look at yourself
a poem
is not two lines
a thought
a passing
a nothing
this is not your diary
find somewhere else to share
because i for one care
you lay the art bare
more effort should be found
if your words are to be sound.
L Sep 2018
II
Maybe we're a flavor that not most can stomache.
Ive always loved oatmeal raisin.
Even though i have no particular love for raisins generally.
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