Where is our toilet, mankind?
And make sure our tissue paper is more than 3-ply.
For episodes of increased historical motility always recur
Deluges of waste taking turns
For when the earth decides to move its bowels
Like diarrhea, it cleanses and dehydrates and strains and kills
And men, all fond of playing god like loperamide
Scared to face bullshit in tides
When what the proverbial temple needs
Is a colon less of consuming bacteria and toxic feces
To excrete the dirt of society
And to cure with sugar, salt and liquid
Yet to purge is to take the blow of loss and damage
You can replace the fluids but not the electrolyte haze —
Too late, the stink of the fart has gone with the breeze
Its sound screaming in the wind that the need has become a morbidity
How painful? How colorful? How much? How consistent?
Yellow green black brown thick thin scattered spray persistent
A disturbed digestion of parasitic types that replicate
Hence before they make your gut home, save yourself and defecate
A cry for low osmolarity oral rehydration solution
In overindulgence and rapid infection
Remember always that shit is unabsorbed nutrition.
(And if mankind has no power but to yield
Say a little prayer and build a ship
So as he sits in his porcelain throne, the supreme creator and architect
He grabs a roll of tissue paper and flushes some homo sapientes.)
Vivien Marie Lopez