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They call it “Irritable Bowel Syndrome”, IBS
Where your mind says “NO! ” but your bowels say “YES! ”
Or your mind says “YES! ” but your bowels say “NO! ”
No matter how desperately you’d really like to go
They can never agree on the most natural of functions
Even if you’ve eaten fibre for breakfast, tea and luncheon
Gagged on castor oil, retched on Epsom Salts
Your bowels unequivocally have come to a grinding halt
And they will lie dormant, in a state of hibernation
Waiting patiently until you are in a particular location
Where a toilet is at a distance far, far away
Then they will come alive without a moment’s delay
They’ve woken up quite grumpy, impatient and demanding
The distance of the toilet, of that they have no understanding
Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate right now
It’s up to you to work out where and how
I could pretend I’m going into that pub to buy a beer
Slink slyly past the barman and head straight to the rear
Or driving in the car, spot a clump of trees
Hide behind them and feel the open breeze
They call it “Irritable Bowel Syndrome”, IBS
The more you want to go, the bowels want to less
The less you want to go, the bowels want to more
And that my friends is the spastic colon war!
(Sydney, Australia - 2007)
Alessandra Liverani
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