When you were really bursting for a dung
And sadly found the only cubicle
Was vile and ill-prepared to meet your needs,
Its stench beyond your wildest nightmare dread?
And yet you bravely held your breath and looking
Down into the cracked, caked enamel bowl
Beheld a horrid, putrid panful there,
The likes of which you never dreamed you'd find
And live to tell the fucking tale to mortal man.
About a hundred people's lurking turds
All heaped and piled up to the very brim,
Some soft and runny, squashed down by the weight
Of countless others, some smudged with blood
Lying there like half-cooked hamburgers.
And there was barely fucking space in the pan
For you to add a steaming trio of your own
To the rancid, obscene horrors lurking there
As you crouched, puking, with your panties round your ankles
Terrified in case they fell onto the piss-swamped floor.
And you noticed with your reeling senses
That there wasn't any bloody paper either,
Nor had there been for many a long day
Judging from the walls' awesome sorry state
All covered in shitty brown elevens. (SEE NOTE IF UNCLEAR)
NOTE re "Brown elevens" - just visualise how.........
11 11 11 11 11
might have found their way onto the wall.........................
Silver trophy winner
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
complete and unadulterated shit 
That was such a gross nasty poem, and the imagery has me holding my tummy tight, Excellently written and very much what this judge needed!!! lol Oh thank you for the imagery, my mind is still swirling all over the place! You really did a fantastic job! best to you in the contest, but I don't think you will need it! 
LOL 
Applauses
....
I knew you would rise to that challenge ... Shakespeare would be proud 
good luck in the contest I feel you have earned it
