Caught Short

It surprised me-

It caught me off guard

An initial gentle discomfort

But now it’s coming hard

Like a knife in my bowels

Like someone has turned a screw

One consonant and two vowels

I really need a poo


Could not come at a worse time

Totally inconvenient

Drop everything before I drop my load

To find a public convenience

The pain is just sheer agony

It cripples me inside

I have to fight against it

Before it dribble out m’backside

Doubled up in two

I make my way to the gents

Ignore the stained stainless steel

Ignore the awful stench

With one half open eye

I squirm, and bolt the door

In fear of dirt and germs

From those who’ve been before


Like a scene from a horror movie

My surroundings are damp and cold

There is no bowl of pot pouri

And I am hoping that’s just mould

The loo is a dark matt grey

It bears a horseshoe seat

A thousand fluids inside it

Two thousand, just not bleach

The chain hangs above my head

All that’s missing is the noose

But my guts a filled with lead

And my bowels are coming loose


This is an emergency


Although my feet are wet

Now is the time for action

Not cubicle etiquette

I squat and close my eyes

I begin to fear the worse

Though a little grateful

At least the movements not reversed

I tense and straighten every sinew

I grab hold of the rim

I have had some bad experiences

But this is going to be grim

It all comes rather sudden

A burning sensation takes control

My body feels possessed

As the Devil takes my soul…


I let out a little scream

A little steam, a little gas

Fear for a moment I passed my spleen

Before a crescendo and a splash

Then the battle is over

As quickly as it begun

But it was only a raging battle

The war is still to be won

Slowly recovering from my wounds

(This was a real stinger)

I look down in the bowl

I’ve given birth to King Kongs finger

Feeling nothing but relief

Freed from its venom

Sat there looking at me

With more fudge than all of Devon

I wonder what has caused this

This beast released from my colon

How on Earth did I make it?

How on Earth did I hold on?

Was it something that I ate?

Was it deeper, was it Karma?

I decide to wave goodbye

And say sayonara


Reaching out for the paper

Met by an empty roll

A bitter twist of fate

A pity on my hole

With steely determination

I pull a Metro from my bag

It tears through my haemorrhoids

Leaves me a#se like a Japanese flag


Bloodied, battered, and broken

I step forward to complete my mission

I pull the chain firmly

To hear a gurgle from the cistern

I pull the chain again

Still it will not flush

….I wrap my hand in newspaper

And give it a little push


Half submerged in water

Like that scene in Titanic

I try it again, but the fudge won’t budge

Now I begin to panic

I flush one final time

The water bubbles and overflows

Pull up my kecks and trousers

Make lightly on my toes


I quickly rinse my hands

No hot water, not even soap

But the only way I’d feel clean

Is with an exorcism from the Pope

Dirty and defeated

I hang my head and leave

Pass a bloke in the entrance

Behind me I hear him heave

Was it the smell that made him ill?

Was it the 2lb mound and splatter?

Either it was two nil

Two nil to faecal matter

◄ Bumble

Gym Gigolo ►


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M.C. Newberry

Tue 16th Jan 2018 19:40

I found myself drawn into this tale of a tail-end departure,
recognising all too well the scenario as well as the action,
to borrow from the film world. I'm left wondering how this
was managed into an entry in poetical form (never mind the
other sort!) but it had a terrible fascination through to its
fundamental (ouch) finale.

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