a moment of clarity
by Julio Chapluzki
in the pushing, pull,
thoughtsfearsapprehensions fade;
straining clears the mind
in the pushing, pull,
thoughtsfearsapprehensions fade;
straining clears the mind
Or rather a poohem about Pooh.
Guess I’m a poohet,
But I reckon I already knew it!
Now don’t you go pooh-poohing either,
Cause you have to admit, it definitely has poohtential.
but being at work
makes it hard to get away
for enough time to really,
really enjoy the pooerful sensation
of hard work paying off,
of finding reward in straining:
to do what’s right,
in the right way,
at the right time.
these feelings
of things crawling
on me fighting
the burn of
sunlighting on me
smells just like aloe
a moist awkward fellow
people refuse to be
looking at me
it happens everyday
i can’t make it go away;
with every drink i take
my bowels begin to wake,
begin to press and make such a clamor
that i wonder if i swallowed a hammer,
and so inadvertently i make my way
giving in to the unanswerable sway
of the pressure down below
raging like a bellows.
and happiness comes
like a present in my pants
quicker and more
fragrant
than i had anticipated
bowl of red
boiling spice
to dip our delicacies
boil, entice
our senses with
cow throat
cow heart
pig intestines
– ’my friends,’ i ask, ‘do you not realize what was squeezed through this?’
pig stomach
(among other things)
6pm I ate you down
4am you woke me up
climbing back into bed with
an arse afire
an hour glass to slow the moments
as history before our eyes unfolds
one more scoop of sand here to
slow things up and one more
pile of crap here to swallow down
chew your grainy feces filled bite
get used to the grain, the taste, the fight
before night comes one more pile
goes down. up to your knees wearing
the presidential crown
henceforth
i move forth
from the froth
of primordial goo
hitherto
i move to
return to earth poo
as i pass through
the days have been less kind to me
lately
i find myself more prone to awkwardly timed
bowel movements
than i did when i was young
depends
i suppose. what did i eat? where?
was there lactose? spice?
the days i suppose it depends, was there spice?
i find myself more awkwardly prone
to lactose timing
lately
less kind to my bowel movements
days lately. lactose and spice
awkwardly kind
where i suppose i eat
prone to when i was young
it all depends
fields of glass
asphalt homes next to cement parks
robot dogs
and this is pre-nuclear holocaust
no inspiration
except for poo,
poo, poo, poo, poo
glorious poopoo
smooshed and smeared
and oozing across the page
in the form of words
and when on toilet i did sat
things came out and i did shat
the things i knew to come they did
unfortunately some on the lid
but poo is as poo does and we all poo poo
from small ones to big ones its still doo doo
be hard be it small or be it round
best if we keep it in our pants, in the bowl, off the ground
be it well written or be it shit
anything today will fit
poo in a can, a crapper, a bus, a tree
a day it will be of pooetry
when you leave a roger
write a little note about it
share it with your friends
and let the world know
your joy
your weight before and after
consistency and whether or not
today you had sinkers
floaters
or exploders
little belinda
sad sad tale
hated bland bland food
but little belinda
sad but true
had a face as bland as poo
all too many people
shy away from the topic of poo
out of fear of offending
their mothers reading
their works when they finally
publish their own book
someday
the sieve can address it all
from rape to cannibalism
when we want to say pants
we say trousers
if i say trunk, i mean both
the ass of the car
and a garment to cover your ass
whilst you swim
i have boldly gone where you
have not
the deep has never challenged me
hover, and hold
squatting will keep you from having
to squeeze
but dont fall in
or you’ll become famous
you nobody.
