Monday, October 27, 2008


I wrote this in Finland as a literary response to my experiences with the incinerator toilet...


The kind of weekend I like best
Is one where I can eat and rest.
Not worry ‘bout the risk of failure
Whilst sitting on an ‘incinerator’

I swear to God (I do not lie)
The toilets here will make you cry.
For I, myself, was traumatized
From thoughts of shit incinerized

With paper you must line the loo
Before you try to pee or poo
And afterwards, when you are done
You must push buttons, one by one

The buttons will open the toilet floor
Into which your ‘stuff’ will pour
Next, the flames will start to grow
And emit the most disturbing glow

And finally, there is the smoke
Do not breathe, it’ll make you choke
For the smell of burning turd, I say
Is sure to make you turn dark gray.

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