| Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments |
|
Descartes' Immortal Truth (Limerick) by Edna Sweetlove Whilst squatting one day on my pan
As steaming turds surged from my can,
I thought of Descartes
After pumping a fart;
What truth! "I shit therefore I am".
Up the ladder:
my first poem
Down the ladder:
A Promise
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.1538463
Posted: May 18, 2006 3:45 PM PDT; Last modified: May 18, 2006 3:45 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.1124706 Overall Rank: 6011 Comments:
Yes, you are, ah har dee har har...
but being so quick with your ass you should have noticed the pass that the sporitely priest made Upon your gay parade you're hardly gay, but a fan.
This poem is excellent but for one fact. The dead will have, on occasion, a bowel movement after bacteria and gas have their way with food left in stomach and intestines. So, one may shit and not be. Sorry.
well, to be truthful, when the dead shit, they are. they are dead.
Touchéâ, Imp.
Some of us living folk already shit shamelessly. See above poem and author.
Last line goes on a bit. A bit overwritten ('What truth!'). Not bad though.
Try to imagine not shitting. Does a contradiction arise from this proposition? You are a colossal boob.
365 view(s)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
I arc a rope of cum in your eye and lauch as you wince.