poop in my butt: a study in haiku

it is always there
some of it will come out soon
i am a machine

do these words resonate with you?  sometimes i get caught in an endless stream, if you will, of thoughts about poop, and where i can find it.  despite being a ruse, i found that the article in love letters inspired a lot of deep thinking for me.  things like “if someone can imagine another person letting the poop out of there butt in an inappropriate place and i can believe it, then that must mean that it happens” and “what i let the poop out of my butt in an inappropriate place?”  then i started thinking “when there is poop in my but i–”  catching myself, i came to understand a new fear i have, a new fear that comes with understanding.  understanding that there is poop in my butt, and always.  sometime soon some of it might come out, but i constantly make it, and this small relief will not stop the deluge of responsibility, the responsibility of putting my poop in an appropriate place.

please:  i invite you to respond, and feel free to do so anonymously if that helps you open up.  but for this post in particular, i’d like to try to have us all write something in haiku as the focus of the piece.  any explanation of other comments are fine, but let’s get creative on our own asses.

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17 Responses to “poop in my butt: a study in haiku”

  1. Jamie Says:

    some love farts, some no.
    not here, not now, not like this.
    grin and swallow it.

  2. Jamie Says:

    in a sword fight now.
    i turn, he chops off my butt.
    what falls out, dgro?

  3. OneTacoJosh Says:

    I take pictures of
    poop and send them to my friends.
    Like to receive them?

  4. dgroseph Says:

    i would like to look
    though sometimes i get scay-erd
    i peek through fingers

  5. claire oh Says:

    when i take a dump
    i am accomplished, renewed
    but hollow and empty.

  6. kang Says:

    fiber is fickle
    too much? too little? beware!
    the bristol stool scale.

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bristol_Stool_Scale

  7. Matty McFay Says:

    I rush through the door,
    seeking porcelain relief.
    Thrust pants and R.I.P.

    Holy Christ Almighty!
    Torrential chowder spews forth
    like stampeding bulls.

    What could it have been,
    this chunky display of brown…?
    Ah, yes. Taco Bell.

  8. ironlioninzion Says:

    Thrust pants down and RIP,
    would make it haiku-correct.
    Oh Christ Almighty!

  9. dgroseph Says:

    a great collection!
    y’all have futures as poets
    more fun on the way

  10. mushimusic Says:

    Yes, shit dracula
    thrives off of your excrement
    but he’s immortal.

    http://www.perfectstars.com/comic.php?date=2009-01-09

  11. HelenaHandbasket Says:

    detached and drifting
    like a baby arm floating
    dark bloat sinks slowly

    —–

    a flat of plum skins?
    enough to rend worlds within
    then flop loosely down

    —–

    diagnostic scents
    surprisingly specific
    tell type and ripeness

  12. kang Says:

    turtle head peeks out
    cold blooded, reptilian
    no, a real turtle

  13. liliakai Says:

    can you believe it?
    seven feet and still growing
    god when will it end?

  14. liliakai Says:

    would you call it off,
    standing there at the altar,
    if god shat on you?

  15. sean Says:

    jacarandas bloom,
    birds sing aloft while I shit,
    though passerby stare

  16. sean Says:

    conflict escalates!
    at last it has come to this,
    soiling your pillow

  17. claire oh Says:

    when i take a dump,
    one that is notably large,
    i sing from mountains.

    my isolation
    never lasts when i recall
    all wipe front to back

    corn, tomatoes, seeds
    part of well-balanced diets
    we all meet them twice

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