God’s Humble Instrument

I eat, I eat, I eat
Intake of food, the starting point.
My belly fills, my belly swells, my belly grows
with the weight of edible digestables
Time works its magic, enzymes mosh in the intestinal pit, food matter is vacuumed of nutrients. Repulsive peripheral vapors are occasionally produced, dancing about on the air molecules like savage little hijackers.
Something is about to happen. Something is about to happen.
An urge,
it creeps like twilight, the shadow of impending necessity stealthily
moving across my innards. It must be obeyed, for who am I to question
The Grand Design? And so I wait, with baited breath, and baited bowl.
Soon, grasshopper. Soon.
And then! Like a clarion call to action, it stirs my nether regions.
Nether regions stirring, I answer the call. It's to action, this call,
and it comes in clear. So I must act, without fear, and with conscious
intent of defecatory intention, I intend to act. Fearlessly!
To grunt, perchance to dream. Grunt again...grunts anew. A flurry of grunts!
They shake me to my marrow, and bring me tidings of joy.
Splish splash, cakes a'takin' a bath! What are these things, these
pungent apparitions of Brown Diety as yet untasted? I volunteer herewith!
Upon the Big Chair, I write songs.
They echo throughout the tile-lined chamber that is my own personal Carnegie Hall,
as I conduct the most musical shitphony that an afficienado could ever wish to be spellbound by!
O noble excretory function! Would that I could do naught
but
indulge your magnificent providence every waking moment! Only then
would I know the True Nature of divinity. Please, O Father Above, use me
as your vessel as you did Michealangelo, grace me with the honor
of assisting you in manifesting the most glorious works of Shit Mankind has ever known!
I promise to remain your humble messenger evermore,
if I could only know, just for an instant, the infinite power and might of
The Holy Turd of God
I drop to my knees, mouth agape, senses fully alert, turdclipper poised and quivering.
Waiting for a sign. Waiting for a sign.
And then - deliverance! My ass blows like Gabriel's Great Trumpet, and
a fine burnt sienna spray covers the room! Breathe, inhale, gulp, frolic, rejoice!
For God is good, God is great, and I have been blessed with a divine visitation of Brown.
All is well in His Sacred Kingdom of Butt.
There is peace. Finally, there is peace.
I eat, I eat, I eat.