How can you Ignore me? Ode to the porta-pot!

Yesterday after I read on a radio show "Naked came the Bruce", (Paul Strickland was nice enough to give me a 40 min. interview on KBET radio about "The Jingle Bell Bum") I got a call from my four year old grandson...He began, "Why did Tigger look in the toilet." It took a while to figure out he was telling me a joke. I went ahead and gave him the courtesy laugh. He called his Bubba...(Patrick) and told the same joke. Pat was in a staff meeting and didn't even get the joke until I explained it to him that night on the phone. Of course Ben sometimes is hard to understand in his four year old excitement of learning how to make folks laugh. It wasn't a great joke, but he is definitely following in his grandpa's footsteps. Patrick seems to be in his glory when he is pulling a joke on someone.

(I'll tell you what's under the large American flag he hangs behind his desk in another Blog entry.)

Anyway, I just realized Patrick has abused my talent by calling in the middle of the day with one of his hair brained ideas and wants me to write a poem about someone or something. I began to think of all the wasted time when I could have been writing some very important story or novel...and yet some of the stuff Ive written at his request has been quite clever if I do say so myself. Most are about people and if you don't know the person you could never see the humor, however some are about subjects that are universal...I rather like this one.

How can you ignore me? Ode of the Porta-pot.

What is the thing no one will discuss?

Or has the thought to mention aloud

Ignored ‘til you need me I’m otherwise shunned

Anxious to greet me while on the run

I sit and wait for your daily visit, patient enduring your cheeks to caress

I care not if your deposit is liquid or odoriferous mess

No one will admit what my four walls are for

Or why your sorry ass must enter my door

It’s a thing you all do, to get rid of your poo

I wonder why you’re ashamed of my walls azure blue

And when they come with the truck, hoses ready to sanitize

You turn away hold your nose, and cover your eyes

So in my exile away from all human vision

What sadness surrounds me by your outcast decision?

Away from the throng, away from you all, still travel is worth it to reach release

Whether its mild soft cheese or some hot XXX Cantonese

How can you keep me away in my dark noxious fumes?

Are you so ashamed to expel your legumes?

Yet whither thou goest, It matters naught

You’ll forever need me, your trusty olde porta-pot

With paper to soothe your sore smooth bottom

Sorry for the absent Bidet…I no got-em

I await you still; I hold no grudge…so visit me often, no matter how far

For it’s better than putting your c--- in a jar.