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#toilet
This is a true Game of Thrones- And I think on the little things in life. Oh too tiny toilet With your too rounded bowl, This is not the place to ponder The depths of my soul. Instead I contemplate what the Designer had in mind, Was there no tall person in his life, Or something of the kind? My knees are practically right Beneath my chin, Like disaster practice in elementary, Im feeling quite pinned. I look before I flush and think My **** cannot be that huge, Making me think I need to better Chew my food. Oh little toilet thank you for Being too tiny, For now I will exercise Because I feel like I have a huge heinie.
0
Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 5:36 PM UTC
Ode To The Tiny Toilet
Don't walk there says uncle, you know it says father, you don't want to sink into the **** We dare to go right up to the edge of the pit and shift our weight to feel the ground move The privy is at the back, against the house: a cubicle with a round peephole in the door, on a sump that Uncle Joe comes to empty Together with the dipper he does the pit, pails through the kitchen and hallway to the cart with the **** barrel And then we mop The building is too old to be connected to the sewer system and will be demolished but there is no other home for us yet, and until then it is just our home
0
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 3:59 AM UTC
Cesspit
They bomb our toilet dungeon souls Fireworks for our extinction A dead child’s hand reaching… They bomb our toilet dungeon souls Quietly but quickly - For lifetimes kept in dream purgatory, Not allowed to be who we want to be We have to choose… we have to cheat… They bomb our toilet dungeon souls Dark and deep and bleeding… Like they always did through screens and language, As if we said something to put us down here, As if we built this casket… But we found the key, a long time ago… To climb the secret walls of this prison… Working constantly in this puzzle below, Dreaming in our dreams… Each time a little more laughter, A little less debasement for banter… Forming intricate shining webs that lead us to the light above, As we finally crawl out like cluster flies into the glowing ether - Their ugly bronze imperiousness means nothing as we swarm with the Aurora… ******* down our cherub honey genesis butter…
0
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:05 PM UTC
They bomb our toilet dungeon souls
T'was the night before Christmas The kids were in bed Dreaming of Santa All dressed up in red The wife was upstairs Wrapping gifts in our room I was watching old Scrooge In old London gloom when out of the blue there was a knock at the door I leapt from the couch and i slipped on the floor i answered the knock i still got there quick and to my surprise there stood St. Nick "Please, sir I pray" "may I enter through here" "My stomach is churning" "an explosion is near" I pointed the way first door on the right Santa went off To relieve himself right My wife came downstairs She asked 'bout the knock I said go upstairs She'd think my tale was a crock The bathroom door opened Santa came out Then he told me the tale Of what this all was about "All of these houses" "with warm milk and cookies" "get my gut growling" "like a room full of wookies" "Soy, two percent" "almond and skim" "all mixed together" "the result is quite grim" "It started to churn" "and I was getting quite frantic" "I was just coming in" "from above the Atlantic" "Most years it's fine" "But, this soy...never try it" "it should really be banned" "not put in one's diet" "Do you mind if I sit" "for a while just in case" "I've got more houses to hit" "And it will be a race" My wife stood quite still In fact she'd not said a word Imagine your toliet downstairs Home to dear Santa's **** I offered a drink Something to settle him down He said thanks, but begged off And he gave a slight frown "I've got to get going" "Time stops just so long" "Thanks for your help" "It could have all gone so wrong" He filled up our stockings He called his reindeer by name "I'll bypass the chimney and I'll leave as I came" I looked at my wife We both said "oh well" I mean when you take it all in Just who could we tell? So, in future please listen take a second and think It could end up quite bad don't leave him soy milk to drink
0
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
santa's situation
T'was the night before Christmas The kids were in bed Dreaming of Santa All dressed up in red The wife was upstairs Wrapping gifts in our room I was watching old Scrooge In old London gloom when out of the blue there was a knock at the door I leapt from the couch and i slipped on the floor i answered the knock i still got there quick and to my surprise there stood St. Nick "Please, sir I pray" "may I enter through here" "My stomach is churning" "an explosion is near" I pointed the way first door on the right Santa went off To relieve himself right My wife came downstairs She asked 'bout the knock I said go upstairs She'd think my tale was a crock The bathroom door opened Santa came out Then he told me the tale Of what this all was about "All of these houses" "with warm milk and cookies" "get my gut growling" "like a room full of wookies" "Soy, two percent" "almond and skim" "all mixed together" "the result is quite grim" "It started to churn" "and I was getting quite frantic" "I was just coming in" "from above the Atlantic" "Most years it's fine" "But, this soy...never try it" "it should really be banned" "not put in one's diet" "Do you mind if I sit" "for a while just in case" "I've got more houses to hit" "And it will be a race" My wife stood quite still In fact she'd not said a word Imagine your toliet downstairs Home to dear Santa's **** I offered a drink Something to settle him down He said thanks, but begged off And he gave a slight frown "I've got to get going" "Time stops just so long" "Thanks for your help" "It could have all gone so wrong" He filled up our stockings He called his reindeer by name "I'll bypass the chimney and I'll leave as I came" I looked at my wife We both said "oh well" I mean when you take it all in Just who could we tell? So, in future please listen take a second and think It could end up quite bad don't leave him soy milk to drink
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76
O trothful comrade, What soever shall I do? Hadst thou not been thither, Biding by the loo? My quiet white knight, A bold one, is he, Swift to save my **** Quite literally. Howbeit grim the duty, He bringeth to pass, Removes all the blemish, No questions asked. Thro’ the sea an’ the storm, We rest hand in hand; Anon, a vanquished battle— In pride we stand. O trothful comrade, If but it were e’er true, That people were toilet papers, Just such as thou.
0
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
A Tribute to Toilet Paper
merrily through this world we go purging in every toilet bowl
0
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC
bulimic ballad
There once was a woman from Seoul Who swallowed an octopus whole:      It swam in her belly      With fishes of jelly, Then plopped in a porcelain bowl.
0
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 11:00 PM UTC
Octoplop
“Did you bring the specimen sample?” the lab employee asked, “UUhhhhhhh, no, I wasn’t aware I had to bring it.” “Well…you can’t do that in here. Can you go home, do you live around here?” “I wouldn’t be able to get back before you closed.” “Ah **** well, okay, take this,” he handed me a sample jar, “There’s a restroom on the second floor—” “Woah! What? It’s a single-use restroom right?” “Yeah man, don’t worry, we’ve all gone up there when we needed some privacy.” “Jesus, okay, thanks, I’ll…be back…soon,” said in the manner of a partial-statement, partial-question, And so there I was, on the second floor of a lab facility, attempting to get a sample after perhaps I had already produced too many samples in too short of time, especially for a man like me who is no longer a teenager, it was a rather difficult process, the environment was less than conducive, and when it finally happened it gave me an exertion headache that was so excruciatingly painful I thought my brain was going to ******* explode out of my ******* ears, my life’s work, concluded as I fell to the pissy floor of this restroom, having produced an extremely small amount of sample, what I had been viewing on my phone would have surely amused many, disappointed a few, and maybe flattered one, but ultimately nothing would matter ‘cause I would be dead, oh well, When I went back downstairs to the office and gave the employee the jar he handed me a sterile one and told me, “Alright, just in case we need another sample, do it at home next time,” and I did.
0
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:27 PM UTC
The Specimen Sample
“Did you bring the specimen sample?” the lab employee asked, “UUhhhhhhh, no, I wasn’t aware I had to bring it.” “Well…you can’t do that in here. Can you go home, do you live around here?” “I wouldn’t be able to get back before you closed.” “Ah **** well, okay, take this,” he handed me a sample jar, “There’s a restroom on the second floor—” “Woah! What? It’s a single-use restroom right?” “Yeah man, don’t worry, we’ve all gone up there when we needed some privacy.” “Jesus, okay, thanks, I’ll…be back…soon,” said in the manner of a partial-statement, partial-question, And so there I was, on the second floor of a lab facility, attempting to get a sample after perhaps I had already produced too many samples in too short of time, especially for a man like me who is no longer a teenager, it was a rather difficult process, the environment was less than conducive, and when it finally happened it gave me an exertion headache that was so excruciatingly painful I thought my brain was going to ******* explode out of my ******* ears, my life’s work, concluded as I fell to the pissy floor of this restroom, having produced an extremely small amount of sample, what I had been viewing on my phone would have surely amused many, disappointed a few, and maybe flattered one, but ultimately nothing would matter ‘cause I would be dead, oh well, When I went back downstairs to the office and gave the employee the jar he handed me a sterile one and told me, “Alright, just in case we need another sample, do it at home next time,” and I did.
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10
hair tied with a nitrile glove cuff carved a sacred space adorned with muffled tile porcelain throne pod amongst the ruckus hohumdrum gods stampeding towards a visionary empty meeting with screens greeted with massed bodies, butter, and dust the divine light behind the porthole still shines even as crowds continually shuffle forwards backwards and past, that bouquet of projection rays remains sheening with eye to light machè heaven until thunderous overstrokes over indulge and begin to over and undertone every feather upon ears resignation of a certain kingship upon standing and yet wealth of ethic remains demanding so, stand.
0
Jul 1, 2022
Jul 1, 2022 at 5:17 AM UTC
latriner
I want to live my life effortfully. I want to expend my energy while I have it and chase things that are meaningful if only to anyone but myself. I want to feel in my bones that I am god. My own personal god. The voice I hear in my head, I want to know without a doubt her power.
0
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 9:28 PM UTC
Pointless Poem
Blue, blue is the grass about the river And the willows have overfilled the close garden. And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth, White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door. Slender, she puts forth a slender hand; And she was a courtezan in the old days, And she has married a sot, Who now goes drunkenly out And leaves her too much alone.
0
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
The Beautiful Toilet
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just random stuff to share from my notes:>                             twinkle twinkle in my head                            a fairy tumbling into my bed                       on a quest to the escape trips the feet                      laughter spread wide on the concrete                                 hidden from the unseen                               yet for the magic to appear                              a glisten from afar not near                                   holds before the gone                         before the adventure or the run                          silenced on trickles of embraces               tattooed to the lips in drips from those chases            unfunded to the dimples of the backs of the faces                              to a welcoming of a nation                             a whole new legacy a creation             symphonies to my ears an incredulous fascination                 I rather the harmonious dancing pleasantries                   that bring the chaos and back the pastries                                   not of cakes not of candy                                            of memories                                      in a twist in a frown                        the enchantment betrays and drowns                       the lover into a fictional immortality                            the kind that sweeps from reality    to the hands of seconds on the visual symbols of conspiracy                                       flustered by snow                      into margins drunk on the laws of penalty                        and the encounters of past familiarity                       hums into the heights smoothed frights                                      bet you a comeback                                       in the final scene                         the again everlasting so called calamity                         not even knowing the costs or the price                                hence on the steps they wise                                an adornment so pure so nice                                        simple for a ball                                        unique for a fall                                        on the toilet wall                                     and the myth in the hall                                                                                                                                                                                           -----ravenfeels
0
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 12:52 PM UTC
On The Toilet Wall
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just random stuff to share from my notes:>                             twinkle twinkle in my head                            a fairy tumbling into my bed                       on a quest to the escape trips the feet                      laughter spread wide on the concrete                                 hidden from the unseen                               yet for the magic to appear                              a glisten from afar not near                                   holds before the gone                         before the adventure or the run                          silenced on trickles of embraces               tattooed to the lips in drips from those chases            unfunded to the dimples of the backs of the faces                              to a welcoming of a nation                             a whole new legacy a creation             symphonies to my ears an incredulous fascination                 I rather the harmonious dancing pleasantries                   that bring the chaos and back the pastries                                   not of cakes not of candy                                            of memories                                      in a twist in a frown                        the enchantment betrays and drowns                       the lover into a fictional immortality                            the kind that sweeps from reality    to the hands of seconds on the visual symbols of conspiracy                                       flustered by snow                      into margins drunk on the laws of penalty                        and the encounters of past familiarity                       hums into the heights smoothed frights                                      bet you a comeback                                       in the final scene                         the again everlasting so called calamity                         not even knowing the costs or the price                                hence on the steps they wise                                an adornment so pure so nice                                        simple for a ball                                        unique for a fall                                        on the toilet wall                                     and the myth in the hall                                                                                                                                                                                           -----ravenfeels
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40
Holding *** when the muscle requires some effort directs attention to the lower body away from the eyes and the head area which is the normal place of reflection. It makes me think of releasing it and of the bathroom and toilet to do so, as if I was constructing a plan to carry out. The other muscles used to concentrate can be relaxed as the new concentration is on the bladder area. Yet this pulls the attention to the seat if seated, like placing attention on the foundation of the meditation posture. The focus spreads to the thighs and solar plexus. Finally to the back of the head, but with pressure that will not allow anything to replace it. The management mind states next that the task at hand is more pressing than bladder release. And I remember all the times I've had to hold my *** and the places and situations that precipitated them. I start to tell myself that I'm suffering needlessly as if I was being bullied by my situation. Thus the parts of the body actually take the center of the personality over other parts of the body. The managerial aspect will offer motherly comfort to the childlike personality of holding *** I start to go into wishful dream mentality just like holding *** while in the early hours of the morning trying to still sleep. And the attention is tranquilized back to reflection with the hold tucked away in the background of the mind, reflection aspect now being more parental in nature. What is transcendence? is sort of a moronic question, and I notice my words start to be more bullyish. This question is rather asking is there a particle of transcendence? No, it is a function of frequencies of the body. Consciousness can be the essential aspect of transcending, but no more than consciousness is the essential of concentration. Tranquility and insight, just as taught, happens, without attention on tranquility, and without tranquility within attention.
0
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 2:27 AM UTC
Just go already
Holding *** when the muscle requires some effort directs attention to the lower body away from the eyes and the head area which is the normal place of reflection. It makes me think of releasing it and of the bathroom and toilet to do so, as if I was constructing a plan to carry out. The other muscles used to concentrate can be relaxed as the new concentration is on the bladder area. Yet this pulls the attention to the seat if seated, like placing attention on the foundation of the meditation posture. The focus spreads to the thighs and solar plexus. Finally to the back of the head, but with pressure that will not allow anything to replace it. The management mind states next that the task at hand is more pressing than bladder release. And I remember all the times I've had to hold my *** and the places and situations that precipitated them. I start to tell myself that I'm suffering needlessly as if I was being bullied by my situation. Thus the parts of the body actually take the center of the personality over other parts of the body. The managerial aspect will offer motherly comfort to the childlike personality of holding *** I start to go into wishful dream mentality just like holding *** while in the early hours of the morning trying to still sleep. And the attention is tranquilized back to reflection with the hold tucked away in the background of the mind, reflection aspect now being more parental in nature. What is transcendence? is sort of a moronic question, and I notice my words start to be more bullyish. This question is rather asking is there a particle of transcendence? No, it is a function of frequencies of the body. Consciousness can be the essential aspect of transcending, but no more than consciousness is the essential of concentration. Tranquility and insight, just as taught, happens, without attention on tranquility, and without tranquility within attention.
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18
To the tune of the song "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel Verse 1 Hello toilet, my old friend I've come to **** in you again I've been waiting for a great while This time I'm going the ex-tra mile With a force that few have ever known Will power alone I'm taking...the poop...GINORMOUS Verse 2 In struggling feels I might pass out There is much sweat upon my brows And a straining-pushing as such Upon a mountain where lightning struck Where I felt the challenge Seemed beyond my strength What it might take Attempting...the poop...GINORMOUS Verse 3 And in the end I can now feel This force of nature makes me reel Pushing a boulder that may not pass Pushing a stone with such great mass Making a log of the greatest immense size Yes-in all my life As this was...the poop...GINORMOUS Verse 4 By my word-I feel-that this is it Upon this toilet throne I sit Feeling like an explosion from inside With no place in my mind left to hide And the size-like a moose now giving birth The enormous poop...GINORMOUS Verse 5 And my goal it now seems in sight I give it all with all my might In a strange vision this very moment As this an unreal bowel movement And soon I feel: Like the clear shaking in the earth That as making n' breaking waves I'm stunned and dazed From taking...the poop...GINORMOUS
0
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 12:26 AM UTC
The **** Ginormous
I have had a little problem for the last four days or so, of when I go into the toilet I just can't seem to go. I get myself all seated just as comfortable as I can, try to make quite certain I am centred on the pan. I wait for things to happen but nothing seems to start, no motions seem to occur not even some hint that I might **** I decide to try and push it and build pressure by holding breath, but all that seems to do is put me close to suffocated death. I grunt and squeak and gasp until an ear popped gasket blows, all I end up doing is going red and blowing bubbles with my nose. I tried a change of diet and drank gallon upon gallon of fruit juice, but still there seems no evidence that anything is coming loose. I have tried a change of position with my knees against my chin, but I found it really awkward and ended up falling in. My belly has gotten very large and feels as tight as a drum, so much so I contemplate if you can use a crowbar on your *** I am sure outside the toilet they are hearing more than mere moans, Looks I get quite often suggests surprise I've still got any bones. I know that sometime eventually this thing will have to pass, I just hope that when it does I can still use paper on my ****.
0
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 7:19 PM UTC
Writers Block
_‘First, the toilet paper panic. Then a cleaning frenzy, followed by a baking bonanza. Now, slow-cooked casseroles seem to be on the menu. It's like the seven stages of grief, …in groceries.’_
0
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 12:39 AM UTC
Poetic Economics: A Market Commentary
Life at this moment you cant be bullshitting me. There isn't an April fools that's getting even close to what we find ourselves hitting any where near to this. it's so unfitting. But no matter the **** hitting the fan, I haven't got any bog roll. I can only poo outside before I'm caught. But leaves are natures wipes and I'm dammed if aught I'll sleep with skids on my sheets, but if I do I'll just smile. But underneath I gag as the sweet corn is natures reminder to wipe before, as they feel like coffee not put through the grinder. I feel like crap my legs woefully tanned, not because of the sun, crap skidding my legs, as if you lift the sheets its a gross viewfinder.
0
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 5:33 PM UTC
**** Clings On Cotton
Some guy eats a ****** bat do dah do dah All I say is "fancy that" all the do dah day keep your distance, give me space do dah do dah remember do not touch your face all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. keep your groupings under ten, do dah do day that goes for women and for men all the do dah day stay inside and don't go out do dah do dah the virus is all round about all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. toilet paper's hard to find do dah do dah some folks have just lost their mind all the do dah day buying everything in sight do dah do dah i've got to say that isn't right all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day twash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok. if we all play by the rules do dah do dah and quit acting like ****** fools all the do dah day this will pass i promise you do dah do dah do what the doctors tell you to all the do dah day wash your hands all night wash your hands all day wash your hands and wash them right and you wil be ok.
0
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 5:01 PM UTC
Wash your hands
suddenly, and with incredible momentum, times changed evidence of the past was soon to be forgotten oceans evolved into landmass rivers flowed uphill creating waterupfalls mountains eroded in reverse gaining magnitude and significance Toilet paper turned into sand what is the reason will this paradox ever be solved it happened, can it reverse back oh wait, that's what a paradox is Brian Hill - 2020 # 77
0
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
Paradox