Bard's Corner



  • A section for the poetic souls on the forum. My first piece, a commentary on constipation:

    To Shart, Or Not To Shart, a poem by Oy.

    Here I sit broken hearted, tried to shit but only farted.
    Bought some pills to make me shit but they must be defective because here I sit.
    Strained so hard I blew my heart, leave this world with one desperate fart.
    Things to come left undone, a fart in the wind and an “I love you mum.”
    There they found me, like a comedy skit, only in death was I able to shit.
    Now I’m in Heaven, through the pearly gates, I can shit every day here, but I can’t masturbate. Boring.


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