"backache" poems
My chair is annoying.
Its support is no comfort,
makes my backache worse.
Also the wheels grew old.
They don't roll like the good days
anymore.
It's blue, but the lame blue,
the ugly blue.
Can I get a better one ? Yes.
Will I ? Probably not;
after all, it's mine..
and
I'll probably overthink it and stress too hard over a new chair.
This one does fine.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
a penny is a penny
and i am a monk hawking birth control pills
without any shame or pride
disguised in flamboyant tinfoil.
i am an extra sensitive *** on my daily street corner
turning into a crumb of hunger
staring down a long alleyway and eating the flowers
that grew up in concrete.
there are shadows of jugglers on the wall
jumping into the sun, and i am a burning lampshade.
henry miller is in a wheelchair now
and i am a walrus with a backache
being forced among the proverb writers,
but i'm no prophet because i've seen the bubbling fire
and the swords on the doorway.
i am a lover with a guilty conscience
and i have too much on my mind.
i stole the bread from the riot squad and
i blow out these words from a keyhole,
pounding my fist on a book
while the mystics get drunk with skinny ******
i don't go to birthday parties or funerals
instead i'd like to do something worthwhile
but i am your typical flunky, writing eccentric jokes about rich pimps
while my father lies dead on the hill.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 8:59 AM UTC
If any of the following side effects occur while taking prednisone, check with your doctor immediately:
More common
Aggression
agitation
anxiety
blurred vision
decrease in the amount of *****
dizziness
fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse
headache
irritability
mental depression
mood changes
nervousness
noisy, rattling breathing
numbness or tingling in the arms or legs
pounding in the ears
shortness of breath
swelling of the fingers, hands, feet, or lower legs
trouble thinking, speaking, or walking
troubled breathing at rest
weight gain
Incidence not known
Abdominal or stomach cramping or burning (severe)
abdominal or stomach pain
backache
****** black, or tarry stools
cough or hoarseness
darkening of skin
decrease in height
decreased vision
diarrhea
dry mouth
eye pain
eye tearing
****** hair growth in females
fainting
fever or chills
flushed, dry skin
fractures
fruit-like breath odor
full or round face, neck, or trunk
heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous)
increased hunger
increased thirst
increased urination
loss of appetite
loss of ****** desire or ability
lower back or side pain
menstrual irregularities
muscle pain or tenderness
muscle wasting or weakness
nausea
pain in back, ribs, arms, or legs
painful or difficult urination
skin rash
sleeplessness
sweating
trouble healing
trouble sleeping
unexplained weight loss
unusual tiredness or weakness
vision changes
vomiting
vomiting of material that looks like coffee grounds
Some prednisone side effects may not need any medical attention. As your body gets used to the medicine these side effects may disappear. Your health care professional may be able to help you prevent or reduce these side effects, but do check with them if any of the following side effects continue, or if you are concerned about them:
More common
Increased appetite
Incidence not known
Abnormal fat deposits on the face, neck, and trunk
acne
dry scalp
lightening of normal skin color
red face
reddish purple lines on the arms, face, legs, trunk, or groin
swelling of the stomach area
thinning of the scalp hair
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
One thing I can safely say
My backache hurt all ******* day
And if it hurts all ****** night
My attitude will be pure *****
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
No.
You don’t understand.
Life shouldn’t be this hard.
You shouldn’t be grateful
Making money for someone
Invisible, sitting prettily
Dropping demands and hesitations
That he might have given
An amount
Larger than your percentage
To the over all total
Which essentially you,
Your sweat and backache,
Had generated.
And they call this opportunity,
This mindless obedience?
And they call this career,
This fundamental slavery?
**** them.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
When you have a toothache,
The dentist pulls it.
When you have a stomachache,
The doctor eases it.
When you have a headache,
Medicine soothes it.
When you have a backache,
The chiropractor fixes it.
So why is it...
There is no dentist, or doctor,
There is no medicine or chiropractor,
To heal this heartache?
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
There's a Route 22 near you.
A licorice asphalt road,
Twisting as opposing currents of time,
With anticipation and apprehension,
From home, to unknowns,
From comfort to expectations.
A rural ribbon of signage,
And milestones.
I traveled mine yesterday,
In an overdue Spring,
From Melrose to Bright's Grove.
I writhe and bend with its winding,
Former times arise like heat waves;
Mirage puddles flood my head,
Always just out of reach.
I recalled hitchhiking through Warwick,
As I backtrack,
And almost stop
For one today on the curve
Where they sell the garden gnomes.
I once looked wryly at them
When waiting across the road.
Sprawling upright over the northern landscape,
Towards the Co-ops of Arkona,
And the beer store in Thedford,
Wind farms thrive like techno giants,
In a mutant Utopian world.
****** Mary's red sign no longer hangs
Outside the white house in Lobo,
Where she could bring you in touch
With your dead.
Poplar Hill's trees no longer snow in the summer,
The water wheels are seized, barns are exposed.
The lofts collapsed.
I had to stop near a culvert, to listen to the sound of run-off,
The melt reflecting the transition under the sun,
Converging at Black Creek, Pulse Creek, or Cow Creek,
Carrying forward to the St. Clair River and Lake Huron,
Then onward and back.
Weathered iron fences enclose pioneer graves;
Settlers who cleared the dense Lambton forests,
And made the first ruts along my way,
With wagonfuls of backache.
I know well how you fared on our Route.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
There were no last words
between us-
but you whispered "I love you."
Not acknowledging-
instead feigning prior pains
(acute metaphysical backache or similar;
poignantly posed silence construing that
I'd been wounded),
I told you goodbye.
Of course, it was a train
and a girl scenario-
her off-white handkerchief trailing
out the window, itself
saying an extra goodbye
(saying surrender).
I punched the dirt after,
because love
felt false- especially
coming from me, an unkempt
young actor.
You're a newly colored
kaleidoscopic green,
an old film repainted
(it was still relevant;
strong cast- a beautiful female lead
needing submission, to be tamed).
I am solipsistic graphite smudges
forming a halo
around the ordinary providence
of bold characters
erased from an inelegant diner napkin-
I wrote I love you I wrote I love you I wrote I love you.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
The most superficial of all my troubles-
My backache does prosist.
Throughout all my other ****
That dull pain still exists.
Tucked in every lonley smile
And every insatiable crave
Is that pain, sciatic style
Despite how I behave;
Yet dealing with much more then a backache am I,
Addictions, Predictions, prescriptions, I lye:
Here in my bed in my room in my shame,
harbouring my bodys everworseing pain.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
Why does my back hurt so badly
Every morning?
Is it because all night,
Through my dreams
I am carrying you home?
Or is it because
On waking,
I break a little more each morning,
Crushed by your absence,
Snapping under the weight of guilt?
Soon I will be spineless...like you.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
A memorized murmur again in my mind,
And once more, it wasn’t at all kind.
I could feel the water in my eyes,
And now, It’s all gone, my disguise.
It’s the same tears that
I felt all those years ago.
In my skull was that retained frozen photo,
A memory, too difficult to remember,
To this thought, I once again surrender.
All this was, was another ticking time bomb,
That was going to blow when I was once again calm.
I can’t escape it,
I’m trying to run away but I’m too unfit,
Right now I’m captured and I’m not sure how to escape,
Maybe I should stay here and just wait,
For something to happen or nothing at all,
At least here there’s no wall,
To what is real and what is fake,
And from all this pretend I get a tremendous backache,
From carrying the weight of trying to seem okay,
Because that fantasy is all an act as if I was on Broadway.
If I stay here,
I’ll do what I feared,
To end my life,
Over some silly strife.
But won’t that mean the memory won’t repeat?
Won’t that mean all my suffering will be a deadbeat?
No longer will I have to feel pain,
That goes around in my stupid old brain.
All I’ll feel is peace,
But who will find me?
That’s the missing puzzle piece.
I don’t want to traumatize another soul,
Because that was never my goal.
I just want the pain to stop,
Not for it to be swapped.
Sep 19, 2021
Sep 19, 2021 at 10:42 AM UTC
As my backache slowly claims my days
With its unrelenting force
The horror of my evil ways
Begins to take its course.
But how will it stop? a few ways I can see,
Most of which end without victory...
In fact in none of them is a winning me
For from the cravings I'll never be free. And nothings satasfactory.
And everything I once knew
Everything- all the time
Changes beneath the light.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
what does your hand reach for
away from the power source?
why do you reach away from that which will heal and help you?
fame in the west
false sense of security and peace in the north
greed fuels the reach for the east
down south you will find heartbreak and misery
don't overextend yourself
give yourself a backache from reaching for a happiness that will never come
instead, turn inward for a moment
reach for the light that is within you
give the richest parts of yourself away
and there you will find true happiness.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
my back aches
like my moms always did
from carrying the weight
of choice
i do not have ******* that pull at my muscles like she did
but I have empathy
and responsibility
and my back
it’s where I carry
the weight
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 3:49 PM UTC
I’ve been backstabbed
I’ve been backhanded
I’ve been backflipping money
I've been backtracking destiny
I’ve been backed into a corner
I’ve been brought back
I’ve been traveling backroads
I’ve been treated with the backlash
I’ve been left alone with no backups
•
They’ve told me to backdown
I’m back on the ground
Dugout deep in their backyard
But I learn from the backwards
See me now in my new backdrop
I’m working harder then ever, I can’t feel the backache
They want me to backup but my moves don’t backtrack
So they now pull out a gun out of their backpack
They’re here to take me out back
But this time I’m standing up, I now have a backbone
So I fire back
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 9:12 PM UTC
One more step,
One more load of clothes,
One more phone call,
One more postponed promise,
One more complaint,
One more box to move,
One more backache unsoothed.
One more favor to ask,
One more day of work,
One more dollar short,
One more throbbing headache,
One more problem faced,
One more solution needed,
One more curse to bear,
One more blessing sought,
One more stolen moment,
One more card to mail,
One more lonely night,
One more day apart, but...
One more day loving you, and
One more day of being loved.
©Michael S. Davis 2013
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
He picks up the pennies,
everywhere he goes.
Pieces of bigger things:
the fragments of the whole.
There never was a miracle
too small to behold,
and so he kept every one,
and every one made him bowed.
The others all around him,
seemed happy in their role,
but he knew only backache,
toil, and toll.
He carried his burden,
as vast as he, old.
Too large to conceal,
he never let it go.
He slept on coin pillows
the color of mold
and defended his treasure
with a vigor so bold
that ten men together
should endeavor to hold.
One day while counting,
the man, in his home,
heard a noise from the ceiling
that sounded of groan.
He dashed for his pennies,
as groan grew to moan
and was crushed under rains
of money he owed.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
Teachers are doing work hard for your sake
Want you all to be like sweet and quiet lake
Whose water is drunk by all people in quake.
We teachers who work like an object opaque
Who stop harsh and heavy rain at daybreak.
We never care for our brain, body or backache
Whenever we see or feel hurt by your mistake.
What we expect from you is not any fruitcake;
But sincere efforts made by you for your sake.
Though sometimes you were beaten with stake,
It was solely for your own drawbacks to rake
So that I wished to make you well-known Sheik
Whom nobody on this cruel earth can overtake.
So have teacher’s respect for teacher's sake.
Whatever troubles we teachers undertake
We change you to truth from clear fake.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
When you go deep in your silence, there is nothing can break you but the faint sound of your days and when you read my poetry you will know that I am a farmer from the south my father has planted me with our ambergris. Yes, I am a simple farmer from the south around me a small tree, a small river and a small family. My morning is kneaded with my small daughter’s smiles, my evening is colored by my big son’s tales and my night is the glory of the soft hand warmness. When you have a family, at that time, you will see the secrets of twilight, the delicious taste of the backache and the very wide world of a small family in the south. Yes, I have a small family in a small house with a small window, but my eyes can see the beautiful night stars and my heart can touch the charming morning smiles. When you have a family, your smile will have pink lips and your work will wear a crown. Yes, my friend, when you have a family all the days will be valentine and all the times have meaning. Yes, when you have a family, there will be sadness and happiness, crying and laugh, pain and pleasure, but believe me this is the meaning of life.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 2:29 AM UTC
Before we finally bid the goodbye,
I owe a party to you
O my dear pains....
heartbreak!
headache!
emotional wreck!
stiff neck!
backache!
~~~
All of you are invited cordially,
It's a thanksgiving from me for...
shaking
breaking
wrecking
cracking
making
me
~~~
To
revive
renew
reform
restart
reborn
~~~
And
launching me as
newer
better
stronger
smarter
happier
version of myself....
~~~
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Because when you need a friend all you find are friendly foes
Because when you’re smiles and laughs they’ll search for you
But when you’re sad and in pain they’ll point at you
Or worse they’ll turn their back at your sad old woes
Because your tears are simply warnings signs to keep away
Sadness is contagious , they already feel the temperature rising
“If I come too close I’ll sink, too bad you’re drowning”
Because if you stay alone maybe you’ll try on and swim back to the bay
Its sink or swim, and **** babe, it looks like you’re sinking
Don’t matter you’re carrying the anchor, no one is lifting the weight off your shoulders
You’ve done it yourself, why you gotta keep getting trapped between those boulders?
Why would they risk a backache? When they know you’ll do it alone, they know you’ll keep on trying
And if you don’t, on who’s conscience does that rest?
Not on theirs, no one ever got involved in your tangled mess
It’s on you, but why does it matter, there’s no one left to impress
You’re on your own, and you’re at the bottom, you failed the test.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC
This world is full of some people
who hide away from the truth like cowards
Do not have the guts to accept the reality.
She fell in the clutches of food disorder
because she wanted to be like the flawless instagram model.
He did not cry after the break up
because this world is in love with bad boys.
The mother did not complain about the backache
because this world believes in supermoms.
He didn't open up about liking his neighbour
because his love interest was not according to this world.
Unrealistic expectations are kept
from a person made of blood and flesh.
As they consider themselves to be in an application
where they can add filters and photoshop all the flaws.
But this world...is a flawed one!
Here people are full of imperfections
they laugh at wrong times
they wear same socks for many days
they are not pretty all the time
they are not strong all the time
and they do not smile all the time.
They cry...suffer from anxiety...
they fall...but get up!
Get up everyday to fight their battle.
So please...let us breathe
Let us embrace all our flaws...
because that's how we will fall in love with ourselves.
Nov 28, 2020
Nov 28, 2020 at 2:35 AM UTC
Wish this icy friend of mine would stay awake
I have draped around me a green patchy snake
But when it wriggles
I get the giggles
but then end up with chronic backache!
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 3:35 AM UTC
Hi ! How are you?
[I got backache]
Umm,
Do you need
Pain Killer, or
Pain Healer?
[I don’t get it]
If 1st, you are in the right place
If 2nd, get married
Your choice
Either way
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:07 PM UTC
They bore thee not in ease, but in crucible flame,
Nine moons of tempest, no laurels, no fame.
Mood-swung maelstroms, spine cleft by steel,
Yet she bore thy breath no barter, no deal.
Anesthetic hush, then blade’s cruel hymn,
Scissor-born silence, backache grim.
She sits not in solace, nor lies in grace,
Her vertebrae chant thy name in trace.
Father, the silent steward of coin and creed,
Barters his breath for thy school-need.
He eats last, dreams less, buys none but thee,
Yet thou trade his love for a boy’s decree.
We, the heirs of sacrificial lore,
Sell legacy for lust, and ask no more.
Hide truths in shadow, veil hearts in guile,
For a fleeting flame that lasts a while.
Doth he thy paramour, thy fevered muse
Know thy soul’s ache, thy silent bruise?
Will he rise at dawn to fetch thy cure,
Or vanish at dusk, love insecure?
Parents primordial poets of pain
Are cast to margins, cold disdain.
We rage at their rebuke, spit at their plea,
Yet kneel to a lover’s tyranny.
When mother weeps, we turn our face,
But for a boyfriend’s silence, we lose grace.
We beg, we bend, we break, we bleed
Yet for our parents, we sow no seed.
Shame be thy shroud, betrayal thy crown,
Where womb-born bonds are cast down.
No lover’s touch, no whispered vow,
Can match the love they gave till now.
So let this verse be thy dirge, thy flame,
For children who forget their name.
Return to the roots, the sacred tree
For none shall love as endlessly.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 10:30 AM UTC