The Curse of God

This poem is basically ca ca humor, having no socially redeeming quality, except to gross. Oddly, it was inspired by a poem written by Ben Franklin, which I read in the sixth grade, and which I remembered all these years, which had to do with a fart in the Queen's presence, and which royal did it.

GOD'S GREAT CURSE

I sat upon the porcelain throne
to create a mountain brown
I urged my muscles to relax
and listened for the sound

A ring of brown did loosen
debris began to fall
water splashed and rose
and splatter stained the wall

Soon I was to realize
what was my destiny
to create the largest turd
the world did ever see

Grunting did I loose
a smell most foul indeed
groaning did I force
not caring should I bleed

And slow the mountain took its shape
shaking throne and stall
the sound and smell were hellish
but what’s hell, after all?

And soon the sludge would start
to traipse across the land
bowling house and knocking tree
off each and every stand

animals would wail
and fish die in sea
all the land would die
all because of me

I would shake the gates of paradise
with the product of my bowels
the angels all would hide
their voices raised in howls

but err I did when I thought
to undo God’s great work
he stood upon his throne
and cursed me for a jerk

he called me just a shitstain
seed of the devil’s mouth
he called a curse to come alive
from somewhere that was south

there on porcelain cold
I think it was foretold
I felt the splash of tide
as God’s Great Curse took hold

a worm of shit rose from the john
and rammed into my hole
I tried to jump but was held down
I quivered in my soul

Slow I tried to move
and found that so I could
but only slowly on fours lowly
and then I understood

Crawled I forth from out the john
and through the maze of man
people laughing at the one
who couldn’t even stand

and where I went I had a worm
run from my butt to throne
no pants had I I was exposed
no way could I atone

through the streets I crawled
an insect tied by thread
the shame was mounting greatly
I wished that I was dead

I tried to touch the line
that led into my rear
but when I touched the thing
the pain of pull was sheer

it pulled me to the ground
and dragged me through the street
no way that I could sever
this line from throne to seat

sliding on the earth
dragged through mud and slime
I felt the call of toilet
and knew that it was time

through the streets I shrieked
resisting as I could
holding to the lamp posts
really did no good

and back to where it started
back to the porcelain throne
the worm pulled on my asshole
until I could but groan

up the stairs and down the hall
past people all agape
through the door of wicked stall
my body all ascrape

then I was held tight
a cork upon the throne
the shit worm holding tightly
I felt so all alone

then the worm began to pull
no joking not at all
I felt the thing unwinding
my guts within the stall

first there went the anus
it dropped with just a splash
then went down the kidney
from my red-brown gash

quickly followed liver
spleen, bladder and my gall
Screaming with the pain
I watched my innards fall

the toilet filled up several times
and flushed away the stuff
till I felt my skin was shrinking
when is enough enough?

down the drain went feet
never more to walk
and knees and hips and butt
never more to talk

and then I felt the swirl
as my trunk got stuck
round and round I went
caught up with the muck

gurgled loud did I
as filth poured in my mouth
then it was too late
for I had gone full south

I wish there was a moral
a stand which I could make
advice which I could leave
advice which you would take

but who would ever listen
and who would stay their shit
the temptation is too great
to make a mound of it