Poo Haiku pic

distended bowel
stew stirs vigilant to flee
Oh no, not haiku!
Farts and turds, who knows what's next?
Is it liquid ass?
Spontaneous poo
Like river, flows where it will
Evil stinky death

I feel it rumble
Worried because it's not me
It's Carl! The horror

Pain! There is no lube.
Last spring big bonus fat raise.
Ass bleeds, green drug gone.

water glistens blue
anal death fire straight from hell
poor little asia man

rumble, roar, thunder
the world is not ready
count chocula knocks

peaceful silence bliss
turbulent wind is set free
a cacophony

elephantine growth
what was once easy, now hard
balls touching water

tail grows, then falls down
splash loud into cold water
cold, like December

exit imminent
low deep rumble births fell deed
soiled, ashamed, ruined

Too much beer last night
Spincter working overtime
Pucker up li'l hole

Recoil in horror
Chunky remnants in toilet
Green brown and lumpy

Funky gym lady
How you leave a cloud behind
Please wash your coochie

timid flounder hides
he knows the awakening
do not spray the bowl

farm bureau master
bowl concealed; oversized gut
tremble little knees

a yellow laser
cuts swiftly through the carnage
battleship, now two

hot, greasy biscuit
magic dust rains over spuds
the Bo knows, Bo knows

pintos, broccoli, garlic, beer
bunghole screams curses

see him awaken
Mr. Turtle shows his face
wrinkled and breathing

stark coffee meanness
saffron lined Pepe Le Pew
come feast dread tax man

we, unsuspecting
carl frees a fish taco
painful, acrid death

time turns yellow black
monkey see monkey vomit
sleeping copper beast

brip, brap and fizzle
cheeks vibrate a harmony
what's that funk-ass smell?

Heed smiling slick snake
Rejoice and go free

Hark! Thunder and wind
Clear water no longer calm
Rock the bowl my boys

shiney porcelain
yellow rainfall, hinges creak
Brah-Ha! stream ceases

shiney shoes sits still
one arm supports hunkered stance
mind over bladder?

at first just a drop
engineer anal bleeding
brah hah! brah! brah hah!

un-loud, clandestine
hot dense cloud awakens tears
flounder worries not

toxic aroma
malicious gas encroaching
paint peeling off walls

with frantic motions
hurried exit with breath held
faces turning blue

familiar odor
lightning strike to a shithouse
how does it smell so?

bundy, groagan, turd
and by any other name
would still smell as sweet

massive flotilla
poo and wet paper mountain
tiny pipes are clogged

foul unholy deed
birthed straight from the gates of doom
a double flusher

too much anal sex
the story told in horror
tragic malformed poo

cheeks rattle and hum
harmony then sudden stop
must check for leakage

a dense fog descends
pure and innocent lungs fill
undeserved torture

like a snake it waits
wrapped round and round the toilet
coiled and sleeping

Some whiteboard art of the day by the artistic genius Rumpf:

Positive Upbeat Winning Attitude
Carl is Zod

It all started a couple years ago. Rumpf, Carl and I all being engineers as well as amateur philosophers would discuss things. Nothing was out of bounds; nothing was sacred. Noone remembers who first brought it up, but once the observation was shared, the floodgates were opened. See, our office building consisted of several different companies, but all shared the same bathroom. Nobody could explain how or why by the end of the day, the disturbingly overutilized and disgruntled bathroom would look like a war zone. It wasn't unusual to find toilet paper, piss, old trade magazines and newspapers and yes, even poo all over the floors, the walls and everything in between. Our precious fortress of solitude was being tainted on a daily basis, in more ways than one.

The focus of our angst became clearer with every post-lunchtime visit to the bathroom: Mr. Shiny Shoes. No, Mr. Shiny Shoes wasn't just one unlucky person with intestinal distress. He was a figurative person representing the army of minions with whom we did daily bathroom battle. It was not unlike how street gangs use graffitti to mark their turf. Oh yes, it was a war... a war between our small team of engineer philosophers representing wholesome goodness and the evil insurance company minions who could be identified easily under the stalls by their shiny shoes.

You know the scenario all too well yourself, as you've undoubtedly been in the same situation. You enter the bathroom for a casual pee, and upon your first deep breath get a lungfull of acrid death, which sinks to the bottom of your lungs like lead. You pee quickly and quietly trying to minimize your exposure, but your soul has been forever scarred. Much like vanquished vampires, Mr. Shiny Shoes never behaves quite the same. Sometimes they sit quietly. Sometimes they thrive on the pain they are inflicting, letting forth additional aural and or olfactory evidence of their crimes. Mr. Shiny Shoes is joined in his army by "Lt. Leaning Wall Man", "Captain Flatulence", "General Piss-n-Dash" and the pervasive "Clearing Allergy Sinuses in the Sink Boy." Damn those shiny shoes. Damn them all.

Instead of resorting to violence, we reached for inspiration. What on the face of the earth could possibly match the harmony and joy of being the first person in the morning to relish the sanctity of a throne that the little Asian* janitor had cleansed with great care and meticulous attention to detail? What could possibly be so peaceful? What form of expression could match it's flowing grace, cool, glistening waters and positive energy? The haiku.

So it began: the harmonious marriage of poo and haiku. In a flurry of emails the storm of creativity was brought to full force, much like an ocean of flowers enjoying spring sunshine, or a thunderstorm raining upon parched earth. Kim was brought into the fold due to her love of all things poo. We all thrived and flourished under our new common bond. It was within the poo haiku and our very souls that we found true Zen. As quickly as it all began, the emails subsided. Much like a trip to the placid waters, the time for poo haiku zen had passed. Life must go on. Fortunately, the waters run deep, and the art has been preserved for your enjoyment. We hope it brings you peace and harmony as well.

* Our Janitor at the time was a very kind little Asian man with an incredible attention to detail and amazing persistence. Despite the daily trauma the bathroom sustained, he would ensure it's regeneration night after night. His dedication is what is important, not his culture or race.

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