It’s a Flaming Petutia. Minutia fulfills
All desires the human mind idle can bare.
Though the fragrance is earthy, true colors do bloom
As a function of how much the mind will consume
With the purpose of sorting out what one can share
With some others in hopes it may trigger some thrills.
The Petutia, a sphincter with petals unique,
Can release, as it opens, what lies under foot.
It is not to be looked at. It’s grosser than hell!
There’s no flower quite like it. How does it compel
One to while away blissful with feelings well put
In a fine floating boat that is headed down creek?
It is done by my knowing the world makes no sense
Except for the ones who have found a good space
In a field gone prolific in manifold smell.
I partake in whatever will ring my heart’s bell
And will make life a fresh one immune to disgrace
Every moment, in light of no need for defense.