Age, and, therefore, lived history, has its advantages, my friend. However, a warning, assuming you're young. Beware 50; after that age, never trust a fart. Hence, the following, as you are, I believe, a student of art; written, that is, an Italian sonnet [the form usually employed by Shakespeare, and of personal composition]:
Ode on a Commode: A Toilet Subtlty
There comes more frequently undone,
A mean and cruel and flatted course,
Such bubbling rumbles from the source,
The sphincter terminus of digestion
To interrupt all else and seek refuge
In porcelain; clean and white, refined;
Receptive. Oh, this may be huge!
Explosion splatters just in time.
And then once more into the breach,
Taken once more by soap and bleach,
One is reminded: ingratitude of age
That eat what may, seasoned by sage
Advice, the vice of culinary art:
Old age can never trust a fart.
©2019 by fauxlaw