C'mon in, take yer shoes off, and set yerself down. Here you will find comics, cartoons, musings, rants, . . . whatever strikes my fancy, or "Spins my Plush", so to speak.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Ode on a Grecian Toilet Bowl

(with apologies to John Keats)

Gleaming of white
   Porcelain deity of unblessed governance,
Keeper of history
   Of what happened at the dance.
Hidden away such that none do care,
   Until such time that thine grace is needed,
      To be forgotten again more rapid than last night's meal,
   Left with the remnants that it but seeded?
Man's indignity to you laid bare?
      Self knowledge still so vapid?

A black hole contained therein
   You stare at the darkness of all around you,
They, completely unaware of your discretion
   Burying their sins as you do.
Passing as ships in the night,
   Involved as deeply in each other's lives,
      As lovers, but even deeper,
   As wife to husband, husbands to wives.
Sometimes in the light,
      Others as a peeper.

The flotsam and jetsam of life
   Thrown into your eddies,
You take it all in
   Drawn as children to teddies.
Glistened by insolence,
   Treated as sundry,
      Not given to reject,
   Until plugged as from a foundry.
Your screams met with intolerance,
      Shot by the can they inject.

And when fortune favours,
   You're granted respite,
With liquid alcohol,
   Though not mixed quite right.
It burns, but better than normal,
   Slaking a thirst deeper than thirst,
      Memory fades away
   Although to your mind this is worst,
Insulated for a time as with underwear that is thermal,
      Your lost thoughts make you like they.

O bathroom shape! Deeply misunderstood
   Wanting what all others have,
But kept from happiness
   A close to it but for a shave.
The finest of taste! The utmost of scent!
   The utmost of vision! The feel on the tongue!
      E'en the sound of the crunch,
   All blended to you, like unto dung.
"Truth is beauty, beauty is poop,"-it is all bent
      I think they all know this; call it a hunch.