Full of…It

(Apologies in advance for the mild scatological language, and I hope this poem makes you smile)

Full of it.
Full of shit
is what I really mean,
but I was raised 
to watch my language.
I once told someone
he was so full of it,
his eyes were brown.
He said mine were blue
because I was a quart low.
The disagreement ended amiably.

Maybe it's because we live in a world
where vulgarity is the norm,
where words much more graphic
than the blunt expression for poop
fall so easily out of the mouths of so many,
without care or courtesy for who might be listening.
Or maybe vulgarity became the norm
because a simple shit just couldn't cover it.
Or maybe all of the people 
who tried to hold back their shit
finally just exploded 
and now we're all covered in it.
Maybe we need a world filled with buckets
to clean it all up.
Buckets are easy enough to come by,
but not many people give a bucket anymore.
I doubt there are enough, anyway.
Maybe that's why so many of us 
are full of shit. 
I mean it.

Happy Poetry Month!

~Elise Skidmore ©2025