Doc Martian Poetry Slam


1. Doc Martian makes some stupid post about his nacho lunch.

2. Someone says something about falling apart.

3. Rev. Anna Dynamite recollects W.B. Yeat's masterpiece, "The Second Coming".

4. Reminded of poetry, and nachos, Rev. BIOU 13 declares:

This is the way the nachos end
This is the way the nachos end
This is the way the nachos end
Not with a blast, but a dribble.

5. Further inspired, BIOU 13 continues:

Shall I compare thee to a nacho fart?
Thou art more bubbly, and more fragrant
Rough winds do make thy eager buttocks part
And refried beans make stains upon thy pant.

6. Anna Dynamite senses that nacho fart poetry is the Next Big Thing, and ups the ante with:

Poorly dressed,
A chubby mess,
With a five-o-clock shadow
Had journeyed long,
Farting along,
In search of a Del Taco.

But he grew fat --
Imagine that! --
And o'er his cock a shadow
Fell as he swooned
Over lack of poon
And still no Del Taco.

And, as his girth
Grew, thro' a dearth
Of spicy cheesy nachos.
Hope stayed alive
He wished to thrive
On nothing but Del Taco.

But lo, he passed
Some rancid gas
As he drove to get those nachos
His nostrils fried,
The fat man died
And all with no Del Taco!

7. BIOU 13:

When we two farted
Our eyes were in tears,
The nachos we sharted
Offending our ears,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy nostrils;
Truly the aroma was bold,
Nacho Apostles.

The dew of the nacho
Sunk foul on my trou—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy pants are all splitted,
And light is the seam;
Thy toilet beshitted,
Because of the beans.

In secret we met—
In silence we feed,
Thy butt could not forget,
The gassiest seed.
If I should meet thee
Hungrily, readily,
How should I greet thee?—
With silent, but deadly.

8. Rev. Anna Dynamite (wow):

Bent double, in pain with intestinal gas,
Knock-kneed, farting and filling our pants with sludge,
Till our shoes are forever haunted with the stench
Now towards the port-o-lets we begin to trudge.
We march asleep, walking out of our boots
But shitting on, pale with pain, blinded from fumes
Drunk with the odor of various beefs, farts and toots
From weary buttcheeks, colons weak from refried beans.

Gas! SHIT! Quick, man! - A scramble to the toilets,
Plopping down on the seat just in time;
But someone was still outside yelling and shitting,
Unable to participate in the release so fine. . .
Dim, through mist and the thick green fog of ass-gas,
As under a sea of now-brown fog, I saw him drowning
In the trail of shit-air we'd left in our wake.
He lunged toward me, falling in his own feces to drown.

If in some smothering dream you too could see
The after-effects of eating inexpensive nachos
And watch the white eyes writhing in his green face,
His gape-mouthed face, one of someone who smell't it and dealt it.
If you could hear, at every meal, the squeek of air
Come puttering from the cheese-corrupted cheeks,
Obscene in scent and bitter as the taste
Of old jalapenos, beans, and lava sauce,
My friend, you would not tell with such delight
To anyone the glory of eating the perfect nachos,
The Old Lie: Dulce et Decorum est
Pro Latrina mori.

9. Rev. BIOU 13

Twas pekish,
and the slimy toad
did fret and putter in the fridge
All cheesy
Were the beansies
And the nachos, delish

"Beware the nacho farts, my son,
The toots that crash, the blasts that burn
Beware the jalapeno fire,
The furious colon worms"

He took his corn chips, and his beer,
Long time he baked the chips he bought
He stroked his chin and picked his rear,
And stood a while, in thought.

And as, in sluggish thought he stood,
The nacho fart, with ass aflame!
Came piffing through his morning wood
And burned him as he came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The peppers did their uffish best
To slice his very gut in two,
With rectum in distress!

"And hast thou beat the nacho farts?
Come to my arms, pinkish epopt!
O guttish clog! O slowing heart!
The cheese would have it stopped!"

Twas pekish, and the slimy toad
Did scratch his ass 'fore fridge's glow
All flaccid were the trouser snakes
In lamest Indio.

10. Rev. Anna:

Not much depends

The wet nacho

Filling the 5x

With slick brown

11. BIOU 13:

I saw a nacho on the path!
It did not know I saw!
I dove and split my pants in half
To stuff it in my maw!

12. Rev. Anna:

One fart, two fart,
Wet fart, nacho fart.
This one is from breakfast!
This one is from the past!
That one peels the paint!
That one burnt my taint!

13. BIOU 13 (starting to lose a grip on the situation):

He sits in doody, like a fright
Of nacho cheese and re-fried beans;
And all his intestinal blight
Streaks on his sofa, and his jeans:

14. Rev Anna:

There he sits all broken-hearted,
Ate some nachos and he sharted.
Moobs a-jigglin' and neckbeard scratchy
His underpants gonna be all patchy.

15. AND finally, relative newcomer to the Nacho Fart Poetry Scene, iDrMrSr SHUTS IT DOWN:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I sharted weak and weary,
Ovar many a quaint and curias volume of forgottan nachos,
While I pooted, nearly crapping, suddanly there came a rapping,
As if some turtal neck was rapping, rapping at my anal door.

'Tis some feces,', I muttared, 'rapping at my anal door -
Oanly this, and nothing moar.

Ah, distinctly I remembar it was in the bleak Decembar,
And each separate fuming embar wrought its stench upon the floor.
Eagarly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost control.
For the rare and radiant control whom the angels named Sphinctar,
Gripless here for evarmoar.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purpal curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors nevar felt befoar;
So that now, to the still beating of my heart, I stood defecating.
'Tis some excremant entreating exit at my anal door
Some late excremant entreating exit at my anal door
This is it, and nothing moar.

Presantly, the pressure grew strongar. Hesitating then, no longar,
'Sir,' said I 'or Madam, truly your forgiveness I imploar;
But the fact is, I was crapping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping, at my anal door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you'

Here I opaned wide the door, feces there and plenty moar.