Staring the page blank!


Until I see bobbling on boiling water,


Sickly syllables, soup of the poet,


Waiting to feed my soul,


So I may vomit indeed some poetry!




Turning upside down, exuberance pains,


Begging for it to let go some naughty


And the further I stick my fingers down my throat,


The less pretty come my verse,


To fills the gaps with dismantle words:
like the story of my life!




It is a complete mess running down the
bathroom walls,


I find myself turning the tap,


Listening the melody of my piss,


Screaming the lullaby I could not speak or


So baffle, I zip my trouser back!




That sweet voice again whispering,


Here, we go again spitting on the virgin


Inspiration and naked virgins,


Battling to the core of my spine,


While dancing and etching between your
stiff fingers!




Ladies and gentlemen`s, I shall…


If you insist blacken the page,


From your blood as neither of you are pure!


So I rather stick my fingers,


And drop my trousers down my ankles!




And so indeed it is marvelous,


Not only sugar to the ears,


Tasteless as it was intended it,


Shall be this filthy poetry,


Requiem for the toilet!










Author's Notes/Comments: 

i feel much better after this;)

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