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Flushed with excitement??? For the Full Flush LISTEN to TagYerit's embarrassing song while you EXPLORE the Museum. |
Oh thou blessed roll of my undoing, thou infinitely long sweet sheets of cloud, like fleets of sheep or flock of cows-- How now? It's all in the slow unwinding of the hour, hour by hour, we tire-- How long shall we sit here unshitted like people with huge impossible missions, like walruses or Captain Picard who, having finally discovered the one path into the worm hole, sees how all this unwanted freight will sink the whole Enterprise. How hopeless it is to espouse those simple-minded directives like Jerry Rubin: Just do it. Perhaps we would be better off to Just Say No: Today I will not sit, I will not shit, I will not sit, I will not shit, nor sit nor shit, nor sit nor shit nor sit nor shit, nor shit shit shit! Thus ends the rousing finale to Puccini's little known light opera, "The (F)Arse," in which Matilda, whose opulent behind causes untold numbers of broken hearts, heroically declines to do her daily duty. "Tutti-fruitti," she snips when the pious Peter asks, "Fruitti-tutti. I will not do this dirty duty!" But ah! It is a heavy load to insist on carrying one's own baggage, regardless how far. That sort of petty bourgeois attitude is best consigned to a competent toitty, which will take the whole load off your shoulders (so to speak), for a minor sum--$200 a week-- Just toss the cash into the can with all the other shit (in today's economy, we like to omit the middleman--that's me, I mean, you). Phew. I feel so relieved to once again have delivered the cargo to the station and let this train of thought unroll to its predictable destination. It's like having a baby, like soda-pop. It's like doing the most magnificent wonderful fart. Are you wondering when this will all come to an end? Dont'cha know, shit never stops when it's on a roll, shit never stop when it's on a roll, when it's on a roll... You too can do it, just get fluent, get fluid. It's the easiest thing, what a rush what a flush ("This is a bad direction to be headed," confided Alice to the rabbit as they vanished down the hole ( o i'm late i'm late for a very important date...)
The origins of this poem are an enigma. (No, not an enema). We have been unable to learn more about Lucinda Arethena Fleet and how she came to discover this writing. If you find more about her, we would like to know. Also, she seems to be alluding to a greater work, of which this is only an excerpt. One can only wonder at the number of rolls (scrolls?) that this seems to be a part of. And what brand of toilet paper, did the author prefer?
This poem ©1996 to 2004 Lucinda Arethena Fleet,. All rights reserved