the third of three poems submitted to the bad poetry competition in celebration of Matthew’s 42nd birthday:
After a party one weekend in Wheaton
(optionally sung to the tune of “My Favorite Things”)
Come help me clean up the saag and the red dal
Green bits of mucus and loogies in highballs
Moist wet congealments of fatbergs and thongs
Bet it’ll take you forever with tongs!
When the turd falls
When the pus dries
Need a napkin bad
I simply wrap towelettes around all the mess
And then I have made a fad!
Round ground pork meatballs
And six chocolate hair wads
Leftover skin tags from yours and my dadbods
Brown chunks of something I don’t recognize
Rub it all out with the sweat of my thighs!
When the squits land
When the bowels void
Too much egg yolk through
I simply wipe hankies with ointment galore
And try not slip on poo!
But if we get soiled and covered in feces
Looking like accidents involving Reese’s
Something you pull from a festering clog
We can still use it as stuff for our vlog
When the Musk calls
And POTUS bawls
Upon seeing that
We’ll engorge our profits on all of the press
And buy ourselves tubs of fat