So here we are
We two
You picking up a poetry book
And me writing about you pooping
We both have some shit to get rid of
Feel superior while you work out your posterior
Your friends and family are all on their smart phones
Watching TikTok’s and pretending to not scroll through Facebook
Hopefully nobody is gathering content for Instagram
Revel in this alone time
We get so little in our self-imposed media saturation
That is of course if the dog leaves you alone
And the cat stops watching
This is the room without a television
Except the one masquerading as a telephone
Exceptions of course for the Uber rich
Maybe that will be the line in the sand
The first against the wall when the revolution comes
“TV in your bathroom?”
Against the wall you go
Although the inverse, a book of poetry, might be an equidistant line
Sorry dear reader
If that’s the case take heart
for I’ll have already been against that wall
How are things moving along?
Has all this talk of revolution and media helped or hindered?
It is of course the reality of our world for terms to be appropriated and neutered
Revolution should mean blood in the streets
Not the new iPhone
So if all this sphincter puckering has not ruined your alone time
Let me leave you with one final thought before the toilet paper and flush
To question the status quo, the comforts and convenience, that imprison us
Has gotten a bad wrap
The Luddite’s, forever misunderstood, 19th century grassroots movements suck at marketing, had a point
If you are reading these scatalogical prose on the porcelain throne
You are already fighting against that steady and constant pull
The suck of dopamine addiction
And the quest for internet fame
So I salute you pooper for fighting back against the tide
One poem, one dump, at a time.
Word Outlet 