UnPoetia:Main Page/Featured poem

Such woe, my bladder filled right to the brim
If but perchance I sought to take a leak
Yet now my pantaloons now stain'd swim
In urine which now dribbles down my feet!
If only to the loo I'd gone posthaste,
Such musings are the act of lesser men;
My fav'rite pair of leggings would not waste,
But truth be told, I'll piss my pants again.
I never learned to listen to 'ol Blad
My colon wretches yet I never poo
Now brown and yellow mix with tidings glad,
Instead of me relaxing on the loo.
Now no fair maid could ever risk a glance
They run away because I shit my pants! (See more...)

Shall I compare thee to a Winter's day?
Thou art more unpleasant and more frigid:
Rough skin doth shape thy sagging breasts of grey,
And Winter's touch doth not leave me rigid:
Sometimes the bright glare of hot flashes shine,
And often am I burned within thy midst;
The seasons they change as thy looks decline (See more...)

Do not shag gentle during that good night,
Youthful lust should burn and rave after close of day;
Rage, rage following the turning off of the light.

Though wise scholars in their minds know safety is right,
Because their getting laid was so unlikely they
Do not shag gentle during that good night.

Weak men, whilst observing with delight
Their frail Percys stiffening in this newfound way,
Rage, rage following the turning off of the light. (See more...)

I am at a Target store.
The one just past Mount Penglai's Chinese Buffet,
The one with the flimsy sneeze-guards,
The day-old slop resting under the heat lamps,
The slimy sucrose procession of fat-asses,
Scooping the communal gunk into their plates, into their holes—
I ate Singapore Lo Mein and met General Tso there.
He said, "I will suppress your sadness—
Like I suppressed the Taiping Rebellion.
I will be a friend for whom your words,
will be like spring rain to morning flowers,
If flowers were your stomach in this metaphor:
You fat, ugly fuck.
Hey, at least you've stopped drinking cough syrup." (See more...)