Last month The Post ran a feature on poetry in the bathrooms of our esteemed institution. Though bathroom phone numbers had brought me some disastrous ends before, I put aside my skepticism and decided to investigate the works of these Bobcat bards.
I headed off to Ellis Hall, home of the English department, and made for the privy, Athens News in hand. As I settled in, I turned to the wall and began to read, and the things I read there sparked something deep inside me. It sparked in me, foremost, a distinct feeling, a feeling of ... regret. Regret for having eaten so much beef jerky. Five minutes later, it (the feeling) had passed. At which time I turned back to the wall and was again sparked, this time by the inspiration to compose a work worthy of that space. It follows.
Quoth the toilet: Please, no more Some weeks ago The Post did write 'bout verse in the commode A subject I believe to which Some press was surely owed And to be a boon this humorist Judged the contents of that room For I'm the sort who'll giggle at, Of fart and belch, the gassy plume Ne'er having given second glance To words writ in that place I took upon myself to see If lofty they would be, or base So I upon a noble quest, To Ellis' throne retired And put myself down on that seat To be in genius mired But resting in that od'rous stall I found what one expects George Carlin's famous seven words And epithets for oral sex Politicos from left and right Tired arguments did screech Imploring voters kindly to The other guy impeach And other tracts and biases Came forth in script quite moody While some waxed philosophical In pondering their doody At hand were pious Protestants To boot, some devout Catholics None knowing stalls are not the place To witness what you practice Were a poem of high opinion There came critics quick to spoil it With screed oft' likening the work To their business in the toilet Yet would-be Poe's and Dickinson's Still scrawled in form quite snooty Their accompaniment apropos With the stinking from their booty Darkness, falling, angst and scorn Were themes in many poems All seen worthy by the author To be bound up in a tome In truth it's quite a shock They've an audience at all Since similar is what they've got down On paper and on wall -Noah Blundo, a junior journalism major, is a Post copy editor. Send him an e-mail at nb344002@ohiou.edu.
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Noah Blundo
