"poops" poems
We, the voice of the most oppressed,
Work in the profession remaining the most humble,
Throughout histories, as slaves our lives still remain tumble,
With our strangled necks, we are deliberately suppressed
For the centuries, our voices remain unheard,
Like a weeping fish at the sea,
We are treated zombies at the rush of a blood,
Collecting by hand, the human society’s poops & pea
Things for us got intensely worse,
We work as a group with an isolated curse,
For our livelihood, go into manholes as bare-bodies
Mostly get out as dead-bodies
From pathology to oncology,
We are treated untouchables, even by the modern technology
We are the oxygen-offering trees that remain green
Hurting ourselves, collecting excreta making this world neat &clean
With our hand-cuffs we shout and fight,
Rulers remain drunken-deafs to our plight,
Hell with your knowledge, to those who go to college
And keep pushing us to the drainage,
We remain living dead and frustrated, to get our right
When asked about work, we remain dumb and blind,
Fearing the responses to our ***** revelations,
Because humans are unemphathetic and unkind
To get our life some elevations.
Our mind said us “Please think! Please Think!”
When we revolt not to work, societies stink,
We warn, Witness your locality *****
To our sufferings, if you keep blank & empty.
We are a collective voice,
Representing inhuman humanity,
That keeps the society on a poise,
So raise your voice, with a clarity of choice
To get us work with the utmost dignity!
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
There is some genie
in our house, curdling poisonously.
I stay in the house
with a freckled old lady;
we're roommates,
unlucky enough to meet each other as life abated.
He does not live in the attic,
like a ***** ghoul; or in some
rubbing bottle like an amnesiac.
But we call the spirit lady, because the genie is vicious.
She comes to the house and says we need to move
things
around.
Her eyes are circled by some creamy mascara
into these black, skin-tight, **** rings,
like absurdist ****** targets.
Things are moved,
the genie stays, gets more vicious.
The mongerer is blamed
for bad things:
broken pots, fights over rent,
**** on the toilet seat,
lost keys.
We call the spirit lady,
this time her fingers jingle with golden rings,
her wrists sing with wrought-iron rainbows,
and says rain will send that sucker running.
So, we build little smoke pits in our house,
and take the most important things:
bills, and alumni letters from my school,
and birthday cards for her,
and burn them until it rains.
The genie calls us falsifiers.
The spirit lady comes back,
a necklace of grimacing clams around her neck,
and knocks around dancing, dancing,
a frenzy, a wildness, a knee-knocking,
throat-throtlling, dismantingly,
limb-ecstasy,
until she poops out and,
breathing heavy,
saying finally:
"there is nothing I can do for you,
I don't think I ever could,
some things are just bad luck."
She turns,
walks away,
and one of her clams drops from her necklace,
it says made in America on the inner lip.
The genie left a few weeks later.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
In her love smitten
my home's youngest kitten
I stroke her silky fur
to hear her mew and purr!
As soon as I'm home
this beauty's epitome
raises fluffy tail
holds me in her spell!
Of gracious royal class
this gorgeous little lass
cuddles on my lap
for a warm blissful nap!
I pamper her too much
hanker for her touch
she in my heart dwells
in pride her heart swells!
Though my love she rules
she ain't an inch grateful
this tiny cute empress
leaves poops on floor mattress!
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
we see the world as a whole
we talk to others like to poles
I'm sitting aside you just like a tree
let me tell you som'n, do you agree?
My entire life is all about me
my mom, my dad, my friends, I, Be!
since I'm the stack of body parts
I consider this world like my heart
the sun will shine as doubt will grow
I aint gon lie, my sun's my eyes
the more i see the less doubt be
and when my eyes roll out and blow
I stop and stare, seeing the lies
that was allowing all doubts to be
human interactions are contradictory
because heart and brain are different history
my heart for humans will always be bold
my brain for its knowledge will never be sold
so the reason of that contradiction
is that we're doing things in the wrong direction
putting our heart in interactions
brainy analyse the human nations
once we've flipped it 90 degree
human interactions will finally be free.
I see children as my fingers
and veteran as my toes
the latter have the wisdom
so I keep them at the bottom
so I can stand tall like Heroes.
Children are important so i teach them daily
I keep them accurate and let them work freely
for they are the essence of things that most matters
TV news are useless so i'll say they are my poops
commercial aren't that far cuz they are my farts
one cannot live without them both they are 2 essential parts
of the social oligo-elements, a tiny lil portion or oops!
know yourself and you'll know the world
cuz each body parts is a fraction of the herd
I think I'm talking too much you are already too tired
I'll leave you with emptyness cuz that's what got me inspired
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
Adolf ****** was really quite a chap
He made those Froggies eat a lot of crap;
And he made all those Norwegians
Look like a load of paraplegians.
He marched into Poland with his troops
Into their pants those Poles did poops.
He made short work of the poor old Greeks:
And in their pants they did big keeks.
Killing the Jews was oh so bad and cruel:
Burning them up for harsh winter fuel.
But invading Russia was a bad place to go
And the Nazis froze in the cold and snow.
The Yanks were frightened to join in the war:
They were **** scared of what they saw;
(they only got involved when the Japanese
brought the Pearl Harbour fleet to its knees).
Only the Brits stood resolute and brave
For Churchill was an inspiring knave;
He fought Adolf on the shores and beaches
And the Germans crapped their leder-britches.
So what is the lesson of these facts from history?
Not ****** much - what a ******* mystery.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
He sweats when he poops,
Not just any old ****
A **** of glory,
A **** of a lifetime.
The kind of **** that jacks your heart rate,
The kind of **** that makes you breathe heavy,
A **** so intense that your bowels moan,
And generate a need to remove your shirt.
The cold, yet intense sweats of this ****
Cramps in the lower abdomen, sharp and warm,
The sweet relief of tension, when that one big log comes out,
All hot and steamy.
Followed by a stream of liquidy brown,
He wonders how his body even operates,
The unholiness of what exits through,
That holiest of holes, next to the birth stump and boulders.
Pondering the consumption of two nights before,
He sits bare-assed on this porcelain mouth,
Ingesting every bit of solids, liquids and gasses,
That exit from his **** canal.
Clothes tossed onto the floor,
His ******* harden from the unpleasant draft,
Caused by the perspired glands,
That shiver from trauma and nightly air.
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 6:52 PM UTC
Five Personalities
First one is very mean,
runs down people in his car,
shoots anyone walking the streets,
gets drunk and beats his family for fun.
Second one is sometimes depressed,
cries all day, cries all night,
too afraid, can't leave home,
paranoid to the extreme.
Third one is god like,
not a thing he can't do,
knows answers to every question,
snaps his finger, girls come running.
Forth one is dumb and ******
can't remember his own name,
smokes all day, smokes all night,
stupid is what stupid does.
Fifth one is a puppy dog,
barks at knocks on the door,
licks his water on all fours,
****** and poops in the back yard.
No medicine can help his cause,
too unstable to stand trial.
Lives in a mental institution,
wears a strait jacket til he dies.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Never Have I Ever (Slam Poem)
5/27/2014
Having a best friend makes you think of weird things.
Stuff like:
Getting slapped in the face with a fish is more about smell than texture.
13 nights in a row drinking isn't so bad if you save cash not using mixers.
A stranger hitting on you is a storyline for tomorrow's lunch.
Redecorating my room is just for you, nobody else will see it.
You asked me to go shop with you, are you saying I need new clothes?
Crushing Ritalin in a bathroom, because we stayed up 'til 6am before work.
Pooping is like extra time in the day set aside to call you on the phone.
Why do we play Never Have I Ever when we already know the ever's?
People think we constantly say inside jokes, but we're just telepathic.
I get into shape before you visit town, because you're my best wingman.
If we ever stop being friends, I really hope you don't blackmail me.
Can I designate you to speak at my wedding, babyshower, and funeral?
... or is it too soon to do that?
Losing friends can make you think of weird things, I imagine.
Stuff like:
1. I should stop ordering carne asada fries - I can't finish a whole portion.
2. I keep my curtains closed - I know your car won't randomly be outside.
3. Having lunch alone ***** - I shared a crazy story with the cashier today.
4. I take my poops with the stereo on now - I never could go in silence.
5. My voicemail inbox is full - I can't delete any when your voice pops up.
6. Maybe I should call you.
7. I need to talk to you.
8. I wish I could call you.
9. If only you'd come visit town.
10. Maybe I should go visit the cemetery.
11. I have a new least favorite Never Have I Ever.
12. Never Have I Ever had a best friend die.
And I hope I never ever will put that finger down.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
***When nature calls away from home
you need to find a public throne
a place that's clean to spread your cheeks
one that flushes without plumbing leaks
not at an outhouse or a remote latrine
they're so disgusting and very obscene
Time to hurry you're poking cotton
skid mark stains are never forgotten
parking your car at the local K-mart
releasing pressure, cheek sneak a ****
concern turns to fear of what you dread
passing gas has formed a turtle head
As your back side slaps the toilet seat
you realize this job will end incomplete
burning eyes from the methane vapor
on the roll not one square of paper
so every time you cut the cheese
don't forget to clinch and squeeze***
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Remember she is human like you
Bleeds from open wounds
Cries into the night for mercy
Poops up a storm when she's nervous
Prays to the same ancestors on this continent called turtle island/atzlan
Remember she is woman, like you
Nothing less, nothing more
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
M. Before we start I notice this interview is titled Part 3. May I ask what happened to Part 2?
MH. Well there was that little incident with the fire but we really don't like bringing that up...
M. Fire?...
MH. Epp!!
M. But how...
MH. Epp!!
M. Did you..
MH. Epp!!
M. Okay, shall we just get started?
MH. Sure, Why dwell on the past...
M. So Mike you've been on HP since March. How do you like it?
MH. Hallucinogenic Psychedelic's? I've actually been on those for years! Why I remember back in the 60's...
M. I was talking Hello Poetry...
MH. Oh...well isn't that embarrassing...
M. Ah....yea
MH. Do you see that?
M. See what?
MH. Never mind...
M. So what about Hello Poetry?
MH. What about it?
M. What do you think of it so far?
MH. I love it! I feel I've really grown as a poet here. Some of my pieces lately I've really had to dig deep into my ******
M. You mean Psyche...
MH. No I'm pretty sure I mean ******
M. OKAYYYY...So what type of poetry do you enjoy writing the most?
MH. I kind of go with the flow...whatever poops I mean pops in my head!
M. Could that have been a Freudian slip?
MH. You've got me there! You do know me as well as I know myself Mike!
M. That I do!
MH. I guess when it comes down to it I really just have fun...I never take myself serious.
M. Well this has certainly been informative! I'm sure our one reader will enjoy this...
MH. Do you see that?
M. See what?
MH. Never mind...
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
My wife brought home a little man
He really doesn't talk very much
He mostly cries and ***** his thumb
And he poops a lot and such
A lot of times he just stares at me
Well, I cant just let him win
So I stare him down, til he's crosseyed
With drool running down his chin
He wears this thing called a diaper
You know, like speedos for a little dude
Everytime I tell him to put on some clothes
My wife says, "Quit being rude"
He drinks his milk from a bottle
I tell him to grow up, and be a man
So I hurry and finish my rootbeer
To show him I can crush a can
I told my wife he's not much of a man
He can't even grow a beard
Then I caught them playing patty cakes
The one thing that I've always feared
So I finally accused my wife of cheating
She said, "You idiot this is your child"
I said, "I knew that, do you think I'm stupid?"
She didn't answer, she just sit there and smiled
Well, I finally grew accustomed to his face
And it just couldn't be any finer
As long as he puts some clothes on
And stays out of my recliner
Apr 14, 2010
Apr 14, 2010 at 4:27 PM UTC
Nine Lives (Cat From Hell)
I have a cat that just wont die,
trust me, I gave it the old college try.
It pukes, pees and poops on the floor,
brings dead animals to my front door.
I've dropped him off many of miles,
but it always comes back after awhile's.
No food or water for many of weeks,
my water bed now has many leaks.
Killing this cat is so **** tricky,
whenever I **** it, he comes back like Little Nicky.
Poisoned its food with lots of cyanide,
into the window it would collide.
Stabbed it twice, buried it in the yard,
but in like Pet Sematary, this cat will die hard.
Ran it over and over with my truck,
he just makes me look like a schmuck.
Tried to drown it in my bath tub,
this cat belongs to the nine lives club.
Every morning, I wake up in my own blood,
it laughs at me while he smokes my last bud.
He breathes fire from its meowing mouth,
he definitely came from the deep south.
I'm like Tom, he's like Jerry,
its favorite drink is a ****** Mary.
I once even fed him to my dog,
next day it came back inside a brown log.
I've punched it hard, and kicked it far,
this hell cat is the most bizarre.
Tried killing it with a single gun shot,
burned it with water that was boiling hot.
No matter what I tried it wouldn't work,
he always made me look like a stupid ****
I even burned down my own house,
there he was carrying out a dead mouse.
My whole body burning from cat scratch fever,
I chopped off its head with a sharp meat cleaver.
Put it in a huge *** and made some cat chop suey,
it tasted bad and very gooey.
After that day, I felt scratching from the inside,
two weeks later, internal bleeding is how I died.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
I water the cabbages
the dog runs about mad
as I walk back and forth to the blue barrels
filling Gran’s grey watering can.
In college I learnt how to depreciate …
I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.
The caterpillars squatting on the cabbages coil
as the water rains down upon them,
followed by my thumb.
(I keep meaning to write that poem.)
19th of June; 9:45pm —
I have one more job to do
and I will do it practising a few reels.
My fingers do not need my eyes
so make myself a ****** be
in the woods where they can’t see me —
the snakes.
Years and years and years
of cleats traversing the field below
have to left pairs of ungelating snakes
slithering towards the four gates in the field.
Soon I pan to install a 5th
and this worries me,
never having hung one before; plus
what if the snakes bite me. Or worse
I succeed.
For now I fret, leering towards the bull,
I want to see him *** —
#414, she’s still not in calf.
If she repeats again, it’s goodbye for him.
But the ****** just grazing. Swishing at flies,
periodically ****** and poops.
Is my playing distracting him?
I suppose … we’re all entitled
to a night off.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 2:06 AM UTC
Goodnight Moe
It was good to know you,
found you in the rickety Virginia City
wooden shelter
alone, staring sadly out at the world
so small,
I guess you could call it a rescue.
Once the puppy stacking wild mustang poops on the front deck
Running wild with the coyotes
You always were a scrapper
When eye contact made,
Your half hour battle with Bingo on a frozen Nevada night
Slipping on the snow and ice.
The night you walked by my side
When the blizzard came
Keeping me from falling down that hill
when I was sliding, how'd you know?
Goodbye Moe
It was good to know you.
Waking us up with the first light of dawn
Sticking your nose
Into my tears
Licking away my sorrows
Curled at our feet on a cold winter night
Chasing the cougar
Up the Tamarack tree
When the wild purple onions were blooming
You always had that faster second speed.
Now your legs can hardly hold you
And when the puppy came
You were big daddy
Patient and teaching a young one how to be
As you taught me
Goodbye Moe it was good to know you.
Well, now that puppy is probably
Going to outlive me, outlive you,
And now that the volume of your hearing has been turned down
The thunder and July 4th no longer send you panting
You were always to big to be a lap dog.
Now silence is all you know
Far away from those Virginia City
Mountain days
Everything changes
Everything passes
Time spins around
Our days and our nights.
Now hobbling along Dry Lagoon
Where the big waves curl
You stand bewildered and confused
But when you see me you know which direction to go.
The night is coming
We know that
Better head on home
Goodnight Moe it was good to know you.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 10:50 AM UTC
Shes poor- with a dead beat dad whom lives in the house but no connection-he stays on the couch while mother works her *** off cleaning houses and sweeping the floors of ones whoms only problem is their maunfuctioning macbooks.
shes poor with dreams-shes in college working so hard she could build a town of workers from her one mind and soul. her dedication is stronger than Lebron James to his game, stronger than Katie Ledeckys swims to win gold. She works hard and plays hard as Wiz Kalifa parades- to get that trophy of success.
shes poor with dreams and loans-she poops them out like twice a day, they pile like beyonces money by the second they pile just so she can achieve-so she can get that trophy so she can crawl her way out of her poverish ways-with a dead beat dad that lives on the couch with no connection and a mother cleaning homes of the macbook pros
shes poor with dreams and loans and now debt. She graduated highest of her class-4.0 no more no less-perfection is she, she always has been-
but none of that seemed to matter for now all that stares back at her is debt and defeat.
shes poor with no where to turn-why did she dig a deeper hole of de,bt why the hell is she paying out of her *** while the their children in college parents make double,
triple,
quadruple of her mother. Their parents can pay but because they wrote a few right answers to the test they pass with no blood on their hands-clean-
Those kids will keep the change, the change she has been trying to achieve her entire life
the change she bust her heart for
the change that will never come
in a society like ours.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
does it always have to be raining
all dark storms
and ****** tampons
little scalding knives
and ankle biting insects
while i get an *** whoopin
from the boogyman?
do i have to be desolated
depressed
like OCDeeed
with a garnish of cancer
and hemorrhoids?
must i be feelin
like a rotten corpse in carnival hell
livin
in a prehistoric asylum
made of poops and dust
or can i just be happily *****
in a deranged sort of way?
do i
need to be thinkin
a tight cord
your throat
feet flexed
the feminine yield
pink and taught
pulsating orifice
face down
lucid breath
out of my ****** mind
do i?
:)
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
I no longer enjoy
solitarily and silence
Nor the bliss
of tranquility in stillness.
It sickens me now
It's like...
It feeds the lonely monster
dwelling inside me and
poops out negative thoughts,
making me over think
about little things,
And the bacteria
That comes with it
deteriorates my optimistic immune system making it weak.
Then eventually eating up my whole identity leaving me empty
and thats when i start to question myself... who I really am.
I feel like my soul
is completely lost
in the abyss
of my own profound thoughts.
Swimming in the infinite universe in my head.
Unable to return
Just floating in the void.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
(Scene: A funeral service, at the graveside. Two mourners talking to one another)
Duncan died then, so he finally gave up his goose.
< (disapprovingly) Gave up his ghost not his goose! >
Tis sad, very sad.
< Aye, maybe twas for the best, I heard he'd been sufferin'... He's gone to a better land now. >
(Looking at him amazed, having not heard properly) He what ! He's gone where!! He's gone to the Netherlands!!!
< He's gone to a better land! a better land!! A better place!!! For fecks sake! >
(A lone Piper starts to play a lament by the graveside)
(after a few moments listening) I love the sound of the poops. A lone **** in the wind....He's a fine wee pooper that lad.
< He's a Piper not a Pooper!
(under his breath) Only Pooper around here is you. (smiles to himself thinking) A Super Pooper. (smiles even more) A Super Duper Pooper. >
Y'know he was quite a pooper himself in his day, was Duncan. I can still remember his pooping well. A Prize Pooper was Duncan, his pooping was often the talk of the town.
< (sadly & dreamily) Well, no more will his...his poops be heard around the Glens. Only silence now and the wind....o'er the heather, the fields and the crags. >
I'm not a bad pooper myself y'know.
< (smiles) I bet ye are. >
< (thinks to himself) But the heather will bloom again, and the children, they'll play in the meadows.>
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 10:16 AM UTC
He stands in the washroom of
Restaurants smelling people's ****
When he hears a wet bowel movement
he concentrates and inhales to sniffs
He doesn't explain why he embraces
these different smells and succumbs
To a brain that keeps many smells on file
like a world trade show of dumps
Cause everybody poops
So he wants to find a way
To manipulate smells so one day
everyone's **** will smell great
And hell go down in history 4 making
**** smell like lotion 4 baby's
THEN Hell be called brilliant!! for hangin
around restrooms and not crazy
like some thought So maybe.....
who u think or call crazy should stop
cuz they could be a genius who's times
to precious to explain his planned plot
And the main message in this
poem is the judging just needs to stop
So....Stop calling me CrAZy CuZ
I'm BrIlLIAnT ........BuT CrAzY I aM not
...cause I'm brilliant!
Like a **** smeller..... You...
know what I mean... lol
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
So I have this dog.
He sniffs, poops, pees, sleeps,
just like any other dog. However,
he is not like any other dog.
He politely asks for food by gazing at us
with his dark brown eyes,
always hoping for the chance we'll drop something.
He asks nicely for walks and takes great pleasure
in a walk that only lasts five minutes.
He eats his breakfast and dinner in
29 seconds flat.
He rings the bells when he wants to go outside.
When you hold up a cookie,
he goes through all 19 tricks
so you don't have to wait.
He looks up toward the counter, sniffing for any
five-pound frozen hamburger that was carelessly placed near the edge.
He'll wink at you,
if you stare long enough.
He always waits by the door,
staring outside hoping you will show up,
and when you do, you open the door,
his ears drop, his tail wags, and his eye grow.
So I have this dog; however
he is not like any other dog, but luckily,
he is my dog.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
First you take a peek, after when you're done.
Then you have a **** and it's right back to square one.
Walking down the street, looking everywhere.
To find a special peek and **** one always must prepare.
Peek and **** peek and **** is what I love to do.
Peek and **** peek and **** it makes me feel brand new.
When I find a spot I like, I crouch and hunker down.
Knowing I've had peeks on almost everyone in town.
Arriving back at home, I find my porcelain chair.
Sitting right upon it, with my big old derrière.
Peek and **** peek and **** is what I love to do.
Peek and **** peek and **** I sure enjoy the view.
After I am all pooped out, It's time to take a rest.
Dreaming of the peeks and poops I feel have been the best.
Mother liked to peek, and Father liked to ****
You can bet our family time would throw you for a loop.
Peek and **** peek and **** is what I love to do.
Peek and **** peek and **** from here to Timbuktu.
Back when I was young, often if I'd see.
A person that I thought was neat, I'd **** immediately.
I hope that when you hear my tale, you'll blush and begin to squirm.
That Mary Jane helped write this one, I'm ready to confirm.
Peek and **** peek and **** is what I love to do.
Peek and **** peek and **** Should be on pay-per-view
Sep 17, 2024
Sep 17, 2024 at 8:10 PM UTC
The Rabbit poops jelly beans out of his eyes
The **** was explosive and **** was covering the whole world
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Charlotte makes my eyes water
Charlotte bullys me
Charlotte eats my soul
Charlotte digests my soul
Charlotte poops my soul
Charlotte is a black hole
Charlotte is a wilting flower
Charlotte is an angry bear
Charlotte the wind that blows down your dreams
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
He's fat and he's hairy,
He poops and he snores,
Makes marks on the carpet,
Scratches wounds in the doors,
Wees in the kitchen,
Coats my whole house with hair,
Stands where it's awkward,
Hogs my favourite chair.
Wants walks when it's raining,
Won't go out when it's nice,
Chucks food in dark corners,
That attract all the mice.
Greets me in the morning,
As if I've been dead,
Jumps on my lap,
And tramples on the bed.
He's a pain in the ***
And sometimes drives me to madness,
But I love you Dave,
You're the cure for sadness.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC