Some kids talk about boogers,
while other more sophisticated lads enjoy poo,
this is my ode to that creamy brown substance,
that resembles dog chow and stew.
To all that is nice, lovely, and chaste,
comes a sonnet from the bowels,
filled with corny, brown, waste.
Anyone can write about roses,
and fill the air with their romantic ardor,
but to wax poetic about crap,
that takes a special, witty, classy, type of chap,
one like me, or a proctologist, perhaps.
It should float in the bowl,
says the doctor to me,
anything less will inevitably,
be a sinking, stinking, pebble sized poo,
one not shaped like your intestines,
but like deer and elk doo,
the one I described is a pain in the rectum,
a pain in the rear,
and in your lower, septic system,
it is bad for you and heinous for me,
so swallow your vitamins,
for that bright yellow pee.
If its colors you’re into,
as is with me,
rapper of poopiness, Master FeCe,
first you’ll need a pure diet,
one sure to dismay,
some pork for putridness,
and seafood for decay.
Beans and broccoli for that exquisite smell,
in the pits of the rectum is where it must dwell,
Some beets and fruit punch,
for that red colored floater,
bloody dung that is fake gets the support of this voter.
Stool, klingons, dingleberries and more,
diarrhea is runny and will make your ass soar!
Add in some corn,
and stir in some nuts,
for that full bodied BM,
that is born from the guts,
It should be shaped like a banana,
or a curvy S hook,
to get into my Guinness World’s Record,
shit breaking book.
Now I know what your thinking,
and yes, it’s about to hit the fan,
for who doesn’t want to be known as the Lyrical Poet;
a.k.a., the Craptastic Man.
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