Saturday, December 24, 2005

I Shit My Pants Today

More introductory comments, continued from the christmas thread below...

This is one of the most typical negative responses I've received on my christmas poems (also from so-called alternative people):

"What are you doing? Many of us were very distressed by this. Please remove us from your mailing list immediately".

Yeah, even people professing not to believe in santa sewage and the easter bunny and some of those other, outstanding citizens, reacted badly, because that's how they are trained, brainwashed to react.

And they know that, but they still send me such cowardly and horrible responses.

Well, as I told them: "Rest assured that I will keep sending you this, until you become a human being and not a tape recorder".

Case closed!

This particular poem is a result of a rather pleasant experience in London a few years back. I didn't mean for it to happen, but when it did, I used the opportunity to explore a rather unexplored venue of current human life.

This is the second of three...

I shit my pants today
I was not scared
or anything like that
I just needed so badly
And I was miles away
From the nearest public toilet
It wasn’t pleasant,
I tell you
Not pleasant at all
In fact it was
Unpleasant as hell
I walked the underground
I walked the streets
With a huge bulge
Between my pants
Smelling like
Wild roses and honey
I finally reached
An unpublic toilet
Half an hour too late
I cleaned myself up a bit
Leaving the toilet
Smelling like a toilet
I mean... there was shit
I left it a disaster area
And I smiled wickedly
To the man
On his way in
I wanted to go home
Cleaning myself up
But something wasn’t right
Something was still...
So I went to a restaurant
To eat my, oh so delayed
I sat down in the chair
Presented to me
By the smiling, polite girl
Returning the smile
With my dazzling own
With pants full of
Still wet, forever slimy
Legal? substances
Was there a hint
Of accusation
Behind the polite smile?
More than a bit of
(And fear) for sure
In both guests and employees
I smiled
The food was good
I sat there smiling
As the chair turned wet
Under me
Even the music sounded great
I asked for another helping
And they eagerly brought it
I left the restaurant
Whistling my tune
I walked with light steps
Through well lit streets
I sat in the bathtub
Soaking wet
Enjoying the hot water
The bubbling soap
What a glorious end
To a perfect day
Amos Keppler 2002
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Anonymous said...

I love how this poem uses a 'socially unacceptable' situation to show how those of us who don't fit well in civilization feel when our lack of a good fit is looked down upon by those who love civilization. When we don't try to do everthing exactly as we are expected to, we are often treated as pariahs. Treated as if we had shit our pants.


Sara said...

Ditto what Eadie said. It was a fine poem.

Amos Keppler said...

Thank you both. Thank you.