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Quotes about bowel, page 2

Dark Lover Bequeath Last Freedom Kiss

upon our feet back our knees
we all fell before patient death
death praying preying slaying

daggers are pieces of broken mirror
reflections pierce sudden insistence
silver bowel broken spilt life waters

death greeting kiss upon neck lips
vein life pulse throb fade dissipate
sweet dew inhaled blood red roses

angel of death old friend come embrace dance
fast form cloak mask horizons transformations
kiss this life soul smiles laughter dances slips

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What Makes Writing Hard

what makes this writing hard?
your insecurity that they may not like
the poem from your heart.
don't mind them, this is not a race.
not a contest. this is your precious right of
freedom of thought.
it is free, unlimited texting,
it cannot kill you
it makes you live, free from the chains
of your past.

writing is as easy as defecating.
it is bowel removal. it is the electrocution of the wart.
the shaving of the beard.
the cutting of your hair and making you feel renewed
like hell.

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C’est La vie!

I gaze above from my grassy station
While lying on my back, the cumuli
Traversed the sky in noiseless slow-motion.
Great day! I thought while fixed upon the sky.
Then casually a bird flew overhead
And dropped its cargo off all over me.
In life a little rain must fall, instead
A bird brain passed its bowel of feces.
What does one say after being pooped on?
C’est La vie! What else can happen to me?
I’ve been a target of defecation
If I’d a gun that bombardier be shot.
I’m not that feathered class aves port-a-pot.

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The constipation

Pity is a kind of love
That you must experience;
Doing so, you cleanse your soul.

Being true is a kind of love
That you must experience;
Doing so, you please your soul.

To part with is a kind of love
That you must experience;
Doing so, you ease your soul.

To earn, to gain and to count
Are things done with creed and pride
To fill and stuff the soul with.

The soul is the bowel, which’s full
When you’re in the pinnacle.
The bowl must ease out its contents.

[...] Read more

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Pull my strings, Oh Muse!

PULL MY STRINGS

Pull my strings oh Muse,
And my smart fingers will
Dance to your melodic tunes
Of sturdy emotional 'skills'
And appalling witty cores
Table me a choice, Oh muse
Either road I choose,
Still pull my strings
For my audience are starving;
Their tongues of praise is parched
Buy my thoughts Oh Muse
Not with a meager penny
But with inspirations so many
many than the birds that board the sky
Let’s drench their burnt tongue
And fill their empty bowel
With stacks of poetic manna;
Oceans of rhythmical wines

[...] Read more

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The Drifting Soul

O! For that leaf in the mighty boundless sea!
In a world larger than its soul will ever be
On that deep, wild, and silence sea
The soul so lonely drift aimlessly free!

O! .for that youth from mortal breath plucked.
In the bowel of the earth untimely locked
The world is a lonely place, the grave lonely still
The soul grieves but tell no one will
Does it roam every earth's dusty way
Or remain where its lifeless form doth lay?
Does it drift with the wind endlessly free
Like that leaf in the mighty turbulant sea
Or perharps it journeys through time and space
Until it finds a perfect resting place!

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What Have I To Fear?

if death be but a step,
a flower fallen with silent shouts...
a kiss blown by wind but never lost,
a friend who tends the grave.
a hymn, a prayer, kind words spoken,
a drink at a corner table.
a book placed back on the shelf,
a child's drawing done in crayon.
a door closed, left unlocked,
cattle left in the pasture all night.
an empty bowel, a candle burned down,
a sparrow sitting outside the window.
a shovel of dirt, a broken glass,
boots left in the corner.
the dog's leg cocked,
the fire burned down....
the still darkness waiting on dawn.
the river overflowed,
the cage door opened...
then what have i to fear?

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Saving Grace

Insecurity 'twas my banner
In shambles i wore it so well
Knocked down and trodded upon
I reached the bowel's of hell

No self esteem could ever save me
From bitter words and lies
Sticking me with sharp daggar's
Cutting me with their slicing eyes

Defenceless i lay grieving
Upon my mourning bed
Knowing full well i'd been defeated
From viscious word that were said

Telling me i would never be much
Maybe just an ignorant whore
They continued to belittle my psyche
'Til i couldn't take anymore

[...] Read more

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Ambrose Bierce

Justice

Jack Doe met Dick Roe, whose wife he loved,
And said: 'I will get the best of him.'
So pulling a knife from his boot, he shoved
It up to the hilt in the breast of him.

Then he moved that weapon forth and back,
Enlarging the hole he had made with it,
Till the smoking liver fell out, and Jack
Merrily, merrily played with it.

Then he reached within and he seized the slack
Of the lesser bowel, and, traveling
Hither and thither, looked idly back
On that small intestine, raveling.

The wretched Richard, with many a grin
Laid on with exceeding suavity,
Curled up and died, and they ran John in
And charged him with sins of gravity.

[...] Read more

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Malaysiana - Quirky Hang Tuah Poem

Hang Tuah was
a fake loyalist
to friend, to king

if he was so
insistent on protocol
he should have turned
himself in
to the Sultan
instead of go hiding

Confucius was most
articulate about
absolute royalty
and loyalty
it means if the king
wants you dead
you would gladly do so
at his knees

[...] Read more

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