#toilets
Often beauty is relative to need.
Four or five pints
And the need is sudden and intense.
That long trough of stainless steel
Filled with mounds of gleaming ice
Is one of the nights most beautiful sights.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 3:23 AM UTC
Much better,
Once old enough to lift split alder
To grandfather’s truck bed,
We were taught to retreat
To deeper woods,
Sit hanging over mossy log,
To wipe with fresh plucked leaf.
But beware the nettle
And devil’s club.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
I write this on the toilet.
My partner stands there patiently chatting to me about his day as I melt into the disturbingly warm plastic of the seat.
It's my own toilet thankfully.
Not some grimey public one where the ***** lay in the shadows of the man-made whirlpool.
I am kidding; there are no ***** Scientists state.
This is a communal area for lost hair bobbles, bleach and the drowsy words of my partner's mouth as we commute here in the late hours of the night.
I like my toilet.
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 7:42 PM UTC
Y'know the way music Bands like to look cool and dark and mysterious
on their album covers
Well I had an idea for an album cover for an
imaginary music group/band
It'd be set in a toilet factory (of all places)
So there'd be all these toilets fresh off the
production line
And the lead singer would be sitting on one toilet at the front with a grumpy
frustrated look on his face
As if he was really constipated (now it'd be all done quite decorously i.e.
they wouldn't have their pants down)
Beside him sitting on another toilet would be another Band member with a
big broad grin on his face as if he'd just done a nice healthy ****
Behind them would be another Band member standing up looking down into
one of the toilets as if he's just seen something weird
And lastly there'd be another Band member and he'd have one of his legs and
foot actually stuck in one of the toilet bowls of one of the toilets.
It'd be a debut album named after the Band itself
And the Band's name would be
"The Undecided"
Mar 31, 2023
Mar 31, 2023 at 5:58 PM UTC
Have you ever visited a public *********
When you were really bursting for a dung
And sadly found the only cubicle
Was vile and ill-prepared to meet your needs,
Its stench beyond your wildest nightmare dread?
And yet you bravely held your breath and looking
Down into the cracked, caked enamel bowl
Beheld a horrid, putrid panful there,
The likes of which you never dreamed you'd find
And live to tell the ******* tale to mortal man.
About a hundred people's lurking turds
All heaped and piled up to the very brim,
Some soft and runny, squashed down by the weight
Of countless others, some smudged with blood
Lying there like half-cooked hamburgers.
And there was barely ******* space in the pan
For you to add a steaming trio of your own
To the rancid, obscene horrors lurking there
As you crouched, puking, with your ******* round your ankles
Terrified in case they fell onto the piss-swamped floor.
And you noticed with your reeling senses
That there wasn't any ****** paper either,
Nor had there been for many a long day
Judging from the walls' awesome sorry state
All covered in ****** brown elevens. (SEE NOTE BELOW)
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Strange question indeed,
So I asked one and all;
Explain to me:
“What's a plumber's ball?”
Family and friends
Heeded my call,
But none could confine,
Refine or define it,
Yet Paul was sure
He could design it.
Still, none could satisfy
My caterwaul:
“What the hell is a plumber's ball?”
Does it sweat the pipe
Or wiggle the snake:
Can it clamp the ******
For Heaven's sake?
Could it snap on the cock-hole cover?
All these queries
Made me wonder.
Has it something to do
With hardness leakage,
Or ******** the ball-cock
To stop a seepage?
Has it anything to do
With a saddle valve dripping,
Electric eels,
Or two pipes mating?
And, I heard of male and female fittings,
And should I worry
If I'm standing or sitting?
If you're discharging the head
Or elongating the pipe,
Does the plumber's ball
Help it snug tight?
Is it in my tank,
Or in my bowl,
Beneath the floor
Near the drainage hole?
Is the plumber's ball
In the back of the truck
(Jeff laughed and said
One could rub it for luck).
I asked Michel
If he could tell,
He sensed it was something
He could smell.
I sought out Ray,
Perhaps he'd know,
But he was on call
To restrain a back-flow.
I couldn't ask Gary
For his wisdom and sense,
He was wigglin' the snake
To unclog a wet vent.
Henry, Rick, Scotty and Brian,
Gave shameless answers
I couldn't rely on.
It's not a crapper, tail piece
Or Johnnie-bolt,
Or catch basin, reamer,
O-ring or pipe dope.
So I searched the Net
With a fool's wonder,
And read of ball-checks,
Gas ***** and plungers.
I know it's too late
To ask Rolly or Ross,
For both of them knew,
And that's our loss.
And Ernie's gone golfing
So I can't ask the Boss.
With final resolve
I fell to my knees,
To pray St. Ferrer
With grace intercede.
His silence left me
In a state of depression;
Had Ferrer washed his hands
Of the plumbing profession?
So nothing could settle
My wherewithal,
I still didn't know,
What's a plumber's ball?
Suddenly, it hit me,
He's never wrong,
The Dalai Lama of dip-tubes,
I'll ask John.
Where others did falter,
John's a rock:
He knows the difference
Between a gas and ball ****
With a knowing smile
He embraced our Hall:
Here, good friend, is your Plumbers' Ball.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC