TagYerit Presents:
    Excerpts from the Book of Toilet paper      (Excretial 10:29-38)

Flushed with excitement???
For the Full Flush LISTEN
to TagYerit's embarrassing song
while you EXPLORE the Museum.

                                            (discovered by Lucinda Arethena Fleet, 1996)
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