Poetry Corner

I'm waiting on news about someone which will make this all the more appropriate. The impeachment of earlier today already pointed me in this direction. But during our poetry prompt portion tonight, we were given the assignment of writing about a body part.

I went where you'd expect me to, um, go.

It's called "Yes, I’m Twelve."

It’s the lowliest of the low
The source of all that needs withdrawal
And known by oh so many names.
Butt.
Ass.
Fanny.
Hiney.
The back of your front.
The permanent vertical smile.

What do you think of the rectum as a hole?
That stinks.
What a shitty crack.
Yet the lowly anus produces amazement
The source of so much 12 year old humor
And 74 year old embarrassment.

They said Ronald Reagan didn’t need hair dye
Because he was so full of shit his hair stayed brown.
Probably explains why Giuliani was leaking brown out the side of his head.
The French stormed the Bastille and let prisoners out.
These guys stormed the Capitol and shat on the floor.

So much to work with, and yet so maligned in serious lit and culture.
“Shall I compare thee to a summers day?”
Hell no, not you being where the sun don’t shine!
Ahnold said “I’ll be back.”
Sir Mix a Lot said, “Baby GOT back.”
One became a Governor. The other’s hawking card sets called “Ass Pack.”

What was the biggest sign of the impending apocalypse last year?
NO TOILET PAPER.
Finally, it’s back in stock, but it’s almost metaphysical.
Last time we got the 24=48 BIG rolls.
Today I scored the 24=96 MEGA rolls.
At this rate, the package is going to be a black hole at the bottom of the linen closet.
Though brown would probably be more fitting.

So give it up for the lowly lovely lonely butt.
You can’t see it, but you know it’s there.
And unless you’re careful, so will everyone else in the room.