Ode to the Gas We Pass

Ahh gas, a product of digestion:

a measurement of GI health.

Often related to food ingestion’

these bursts of air from our sphincters

are blind to socioeconomic wealth.

Throughout the day, this airy spray

is passed proudly or in stealth.


 Individual feelings about gas

sometimes result in ass retention.

Unfortunately, suppressing the pass

has not yet resulted in patent invention.

For the bowel that is suppressed,

more uncomfortable than detention,

will leave the suppressant distressed;

             and no one in range will be blessed               

when, finally, explosively expressed.


 Many names are given to gas;

fart, toot, flatulence to name a few.

Each person labels what we pass

a name most comfortable to you.

 Gas comes singly, loudly, softly’ or in chains.

These sneaky tornadic bursts of air,

 a final reminder of digestive remains,

can clear a room in a matter of seconds!

 So be proud of the gas you pass,

a universal shared reminder of living,

for some day you will turn to grass

so enjoy the gift you are giving!


Gas, in all forms, take up much of our time from natural gas to heat our homes to gasoline to fuel our cars to gas we produce as a bodily function.  Our world as we know it would collapse without gas.  Our intestinal health would collapse without gas.  Yet gas continues to have a bad rap.

We do not like what does not smell good. 

Noxious odors remind us of rot and death and our limited lifespan; therefore they are avoided as a psychological coping mechanism.  Now if I were a psychologist, I am sure I would  be nodding my head assiduously.  But I am not, and the drivel I just wrote came right out of my booty hole.  So gas can also be a metaphor for a whole lotta’ air with no purpose other than to tick me (or others) off.  In any case gas, both real and implied, runs our world.

English: Treason!!! John Bull emits an explosi...

Until I went to college I was embarrassed by what I felt were crude reminders of functions that should not be discussed, no matter how foul the air.  I met my “yang” in college and my lofty opinions changed after associating with a charming, disarming, quirky and immature boy named Scott.  Scott reveled in his abilities to burp the alphabet,  give a concert with his underarms and “gleep” ( a rare and amazing “talent” to shoot spit out in a forceful arc).

Dating someone so entirely different than my own narrow view of life was an amazing experience.  I learned to laugh at myself, take myself a little less seriously, and revel in the moment.  As a nursing student, Scott’s attitude that all functions were normal and interesting was very important to loosening me up a bit, and I thank him for that.  Due to these experiences, I have a deep and lingering fascination for the underlying humor found in simple bodily processes.  In other words, to “dum it down” I am a 10 year old in a 40 year old body.  So I dedicate this humorous poem to Scott, the king of malodorous intestional  air.  Bless you for bringing me down to earth a little.  The following poem addresses the bodily function of gas. Return to the age of ten and smile…..