I Piss Poetry
By Tom Miller

� FREDInk Productions

Revised and edited by Tom Miller on
Thursday, January 19, 2006

�

Sloppy Drunks

�

There�s a fine line between

Socially lubricated and

Drooling scum bag

I get funnier when I�m drunk

Or at least it seems that way to me

But I�m not a sloppy drunk

Like my friend over here

Mumbling how he�d like to fuck

Every woman at the bar

Including the one with

Three tits and a beard

It�s okay, I tell him

You�re drunk. That�s a good excuse for

Everything you ever do wrong

And tomorrow I�ll ask him

If he remembers

Sucking my dick

�

�

�

One Of Those Days?

�

I want to fuck a jar of mayonnaise

And shit in the bath tub

I want to roll in a pile of red ants

And sift through the ocean looking for feathers

It�s one of those days

Those days

Those days

You know the kind of day

One of those

I want to put my balls in a glass of vintage wine

And open my eyes with my head in a bucket of bleach

I want to ride my motorcycle into a wall

And fart on a beautiful flower

Sometimes I just want to cry

Alone in a dark room

Cry about everything I fucked up in my life

Cry and regret until my nuts swell up

And then I want to beat off on my face

And cum in a contorted position I�ll never be able

To get out of

I want them to find me like that

Twisted into a knot with feathers and cum on my face

Mayo on my dick, shit in the bath tub

Eyes bleached white, skin dotted with ant bites

One dead flower

A puddle of tears and motorcycle parts

And a glass of vintage wine

That my nuts were in

It�s one of those days

Those days

Those days

You know the kind of day

One of those

�

On The Road Sucks

When the bums pass me by without asking for change

And say, "Hello, Tom Miller."

I know I�ve almost made it to the top of the bottom

A few more poems and I�ll have my spot clinched

I never liked,

On the road

�

�

Dead Sucker Fish

�

It was one of those black fish

That suck on the sides of the tank

With their lips

Sucks on the rocks and lets the water

Roll over them suck up and down

Sucking up the muck

When the tank turned green

And the orange fish died

The white one was still going

But really really slowly

The black suckerfish seemed the same

Just sucking it� but I noticed

It was turning gray

A couple of weeks later when the

Apartment started to smell, I asked my

Roommate, Why don�t you do something?

Look, the white one�s dead now and the black

One�s turning yellow.

Fish love bacteria, he said. They�ll be okay.

The black fish kept sucking but it didn�t move very much

Especially when the air filter gave out

A week later, the water was green, the black fish was

White, but its eyes were still open, looking�

Looking for something, I don�t know what

Maybe an air filter

The suckerfish is dead, I said, all the fish are dead.

I�ll take care of it soon, said my roommate.

When the mosquitoes began to breed

I moved out

I think of the suckerfish often. Think of how much

It sucked to be that fish.


We�re all that fish, Aren�t we.

�

�

�

Violets Growing in Scum

�

The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate

There is one violet in the center

Somehow alive and trying to sing a song

Trying to sing Vivaldi in the green scum

Standing proudly

I have survived even this, she sings

A butterfly lands on the violet and plants an egg

I want to step on them both but I don�t

Things take care of themselves

The butterfly drops into the green scum

And flutters around until it pulls itself under

And soon after, the flower wilts and sinks

To the bottom

The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate

There is one violet in the center

Nobody can see it anymore

�

�

Rebel With Menopause

�

I want to go to city hall

And turn off the power main

Right in the middle of a big meeting

As if it will make any difference

I want to go to city hall

And take one screw out

Every day for the next ten years

As if anyone will notice

I want to go to city hall

And plant marijuana seeds

In the garden and call the police to

Arrest all the commissioners

I want to go to city hall

Into the mayor�s office and pretend

I�m Shelly Winters and start singing

Show tunes until they come for me

I want to go to city hall

Wearing only a cock ring and a

Clothespin� you guess where I put

The clothespin

I want to go to city hall

Up to the high security doors to the

Meeting rooms and bang on them and

Scream, "Let me in my building!"

I want to go to city hall

And tie tampons in everyone�s hair

Tampons soaked in blood from

Manatees and Florida panthers

I want to go to city hall

With a protest sign that says, "I

Protest!" And I want to shout, "I protest!

I can�t take it anymore!"

I want to go to city hall

And tell the media that I�m protesting

And when they ask me what I�m protesting

I�ll tell them, "Nothing. I�m just protesting."

�

�

Futility

�

A snail was making its way

Across the sidewalk

Ever so slowly

And I watched for an hour

The snail making its way

Across the sidewalk

Ever so slowly

And when the snail

Finally made its way

Across the sidewalk

Ever so slowly

I picked it up and put it

Back where it started from

�

�

The Rules of Love

�

Love is the most important thing

In the world

But there are some rules to abide by

To properly love

#1. Don�t make love with your friends. Friends

Are for friendship. Lovers should be people you

Can easily get rid of.


#2. Don�t say, "I love you." It will ruin everything.

Instead say, "Would you like to fuck?"


#3. When making love to your lover, be sure to

Never tell them who you are imagining them to be

When you�re having an orgasm.


#4. Try to flirt with other people only when your

Lover isn�t watching you.


#5. When you cheat, try to keep it a secret so your

Lover won�t dump you. You don�t want to lose all that

Free money.


#6. Make sure you only steal thing your lover might

Not miss. Don�t take all the bills in the purse, just take

A few. This works better if your lover comes home drunk.


#7. Always make eye contact when you lie, and don�t

Blink too much. Sell the lie.


#8. If things become so routine that you plan on

Getting married, make sure you buy a ring that looks

Expensive but really isn�t. a used ring is best, or a ring

Stolen from your last lover.


#9. Don�t masturbate when your lover is around. You don�t

Want your lover to know you need to get off without them

Sometimes� lots of times.


#10. Remember the golden rule of love: What�s important is

What people believe; not the truth.

Whiskey Can Turn Anyone
Into Someone You Can Fuck

It usually only takes a shot or two

But sometimes a bottle will not do

�

I Was Looking For You in the Library

�

I checked under butterflies

And planets and art

I looked in the science section

And checked in the literature isle

I tried to find you under poetry

But you were not there

I was sure you were a flower

I tried law and sports and

All the books on chess

You were nowhere to be found

Were you hiding from me?

Why?

Why when I love you so much?

I went through Tolstoy, Einstein, Beethoven,

Faust, the Bible, every periodical and magazine

Jung, Robert Frost, Rimbaud, I almost thought

I saw you in Rimbaud but I was mistaken

Just as I had given up hope, I found you there

Where I should have looked from the beginning

Crystal Clear: The Story of Diamonds

By McKay

I haven�t returned it yet

And the overdue notices keep coming

�

Live at the Downtown Plaza

�

After building and rebuilding the

Downtown Plaza, they finally got it right

There�s a nice canopy over the stage

And every Friday, a local band plays

But my favorite show is

The two bums who sleep on the stage

Every night under their piss soaked quilts

Two bums sleep. It should win the Tony

It�s so real, almost like they�re not acting

Almost like two people trying to escape

Hell for real

Mostly nobody comes to the show because

It runs so late and so long

But I�ve caught it several times and there�s

No better performance in town

Not at the Hippodrome or the college theater

Not even at the community playhouse

All that stuff is fake and the prices for the tickets

Are so expensive

But this show is so real and free to watch

Sometimes they turn in their sleep but mostly

They just lie there. It�s so avant-garde, I can�t stand it!

I�m going to invite all my friends and we�ll have

Dinner and cocktails on the patio, watching

The two bums who sleep on the stage

Hell, these guys don�t even bow, they just

Get up and walk around asking for money

�

�

The Rat Had a Finger in its Mouth

�

This hairy wet rat

Came running by

With a finger in its

Mouth

Look at that rat, my

Friend said, it�s got a

Finger

A human finger

Hanging out of its

Mouth

How about that, I said,

I�ve never seen such a

Thing before

The rat had a

Finger in its mouth

And it came running by

Across the street and

Down into the sewer

Drain

Finger and all

I wonder whose finger

It was, I said

Yeah, said my friend,

Me too.

Fight the Poem

�

This thing almost wouldn�t let me write it

It resisted with every ounce of strength

Throwing punches and kicks

I was swollen and bleeding, trying

To get the motherfucker down

On the page for the one two three count

Probably the baddest poem of all

It must have been in training for months

To give me such a fight� jab uppercut right cross

I stabbed with my pen hammered with my

Typewriter crunched and shimmied with my

Word processor but the poem dodged

Flanked sidestepped turned played

Rope-a-dope cussed and danced and stung

Round four I had the cut man open my eyes

Blood poured down my face

This was one tough sonovabitch! But I had

Seen all its fights and studied the moves

I knew what was coming and just when the

Chips were down and it tried to clock me

For the knockout, I slipped around the blow

And cold cocked it under the chin

It was dazed, and a one two flourish with a

Screaming left hook dropped it to the mat

One two three� the crowd was on its feet

Four five six� the shouts and cat calls echoed

Seven eight nine� get up! Shouted the corner man

Don�t let this pussy have his day in the sun

Ten. It was knocked out cold.

I had won another poem.


Back to Tom Miller's Home Page