If I sit in your pee
When I sit down to poo
I'll take a sharp knife
And castrate you.
I should have been a poet.
Right back atcha
If when I squat, in a womenish manner
To release from my bladder a liquid green matter
And on my rump, I feel not the cold of a seat
But a sticky brown mess that reeks like a dead mans feet
I shall remind you once more, that if there's a splatter
To remove offending offal, or taste the bite of my rapier
1663: John Donne: The Gentleman Pisser
Another gem:
Toilet Toilet, Sparkling White
In the Gleam of the Moonlight
What fateful Hand or Eye
Missed the target and pissed on your porceline symmetry?
The Scat-pocalypse of William Blake
(I'll try to track down the woodcutting)
Passing Time
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
Maya Angelou
( I think that that one was written from the perspective of the toilet)