“Breakfast” To The Chicken And The Pig
“O Poop!” – the thing folks used to say
When life went on its merry way
Without a care about the loser
Or not a very careful chooser.
A courser epithet existed
For those whose state in life was twisted
But even they by age of four
Were taught to close the bathroom door.
A market researcher looked round
To see if codeword could be found
For “toilet tissue’s” use in sentence –
Kids said it stood for “independence”:
The first time they could close a door
And have their parents praise for more
Was not when they first learned to poop
But when at last they cleaned selves up.
The builders soon made bathrooms lavish
To cater to this silent fetish
At end of life with great resistance
Folks fought this loss of independence.
Then in between these dates of freedom
One exempt case for needed reason
Allowed for talk of our excretion
The medic’s words of complication.
But now, for me, blood’s in the stool
And doctor-folks saw me the fool
To say I needed more attention
Than what I got within convention.
The “W” word is rarely heard
From Doc’s, it sounds to them absurd
That they be wrong – the least mistaken –
When challenged great offense is taken.
When stopped such doctors look around
To see if scapegoats can be found
For errors cloud up reputation
And spoil pretense of their perfection.
We pilots are not perfect either
So we go through such stormy weather
But backup plans fast instigate
For with folks we participate.
Fearless to speak to us with haste
Our passengers give us a break
Then far from blame when things go wrong
They sing their accolades in song.
So now at nine months I observe
Blood in my stool – this sign should move
To activate a plan at last
I pray as my life’s shortening fast.
I like when doctors work with caution
But now I fear they’ve lost their option
Their pay should shift when failures make
“Contribute not” – “participate”.