When you’re traveling on an airplane, stuck by the toilet, you write things that are often out of character. This poem will definitely be stored under the category of “in questionable taste.” I suggest that you don’t read it while having breakfast, but it’s something that we all have in common.

Toilet Humor

Bottoms Up!
A toilet humor toast.
I don’t want to brag,
Never want to boast.

But I just gave birth,
To the biggest turd.
It’s a Guinness record,
Have you heard?

When potty time comes,
Some treat it as an art.
And face the disappointment,
When it comes out a fart.

If you give a crap,
About your need to pooh.
You’ll sit upon your throne,
When a dump is due.

It’s a rule of nature,
Regardless of your species.
So after eating supper,
You have to deal with feces.

But no pooh is pretty,
But can feel pretty good.
A pooh can be poetic,
It certainly should.

It’s always a relief,
But can get a bit sticky.
Given a choice,
You can’t be picky.

Some days it’s runny,
On others it’s a pain.
It’s best not to look,
Just flush it down the drain.

Corn adds texture,
It’s not a pretty sight.
It’s mostly a function,
Of your dinner last night.

Nuts can be a problem,
Beets give you a scare.
Don’t forget the spray,
To freshen the air.

There’s the perfect pooh,
That leaves no trace.
Toilet paper’s optional,
If that’s the case.

The least pretty poohs,
Require the entire roll.
You only want to wipe,
With a ten foot pole.

Some pooh is like clockwork,
While others need a push.
Then there’s the unexpected,
And the need to find a bush.

If you’ve ever had the squirts,
You may not have made it.
There’s a mess in your pants,
So go ahead and say it!

Oh Sh*t.

The END..

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