"colonoscopy" poems
You do the math and I'll provide the irrationals,
as I tend to cling to panic in the asymmetry of life.
In this Twenty-First century women still suffer
from laws streaming out of councils of men.
These are not self-stabbing heroines,
they do not ask the heavy deluge of derision.
They are faced with laws stemming from an abbatoir,
from men who wish to usurp the birthright.
Men who have become strangers to their own mothers,
men whose ***** dispense a fouled milk,
men who deserve an **** ultrasound colonoscopy.
So, I beg you to balance the inequality of the equation,
gather our sisters in this non-Euclidean space:
this is one we solve by inspection!
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)
The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med
The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car
His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know
The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room
Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs
The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove
One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”
The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)
The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers
The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised
Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?
But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
I have a special interest in telling about my colonoscopy.
The doc cheerful, secure in his specialty, colon cancer being
the second leading cause of cancer death after lung tumors.
They can snip the precancerous polyps right out of you during the test.
At first the doc gave me the statistics but having paid 25 bucks for this
interview
I decided to make him explain the science. He was most comfortable
describing the physical architecture of adenomatous v. hyperplastic
polyps
but what about cell structure I said. He was vague about genes and
hormones,
I could have been chatting with an Electrolux salesman.
I wasn’t worried although my *** was burning.
Everybody dies, everybody, even Whitman and Emerson, so I browse
models for dying—
mine are middlebrow, saddlebow—John Wayne in The Shootist, Paul
Newman in Hombre—or hagiography
Plath her head stuck in an oven, Hemingway who ate his shotgun.
Anyway I was upbeat flirting with the nurse, a muse who has seen it all
before,
acting tough, which isn’t actually an act
you do your prep and say your prayers.
I thought I’d be in and out **** as you probably already know
the prep for this procedure is worthy of Gandhi. A day of fasting,
clear fluids only, and constant voiding.
You arrive at the hospital one spiritual chicken.
I reflected it can’t hurt, lose a little weight, remember who you are
without so much **** and flesh between you and the natural world.
Snipping polyps is like taking electrons to a lower quantum energy level,
nearer the nucleus, with fasting and ****** abstinence.
The art of total presence and abstinence, dependence on the Other for
future existence.
May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 7:09 AM UTC
precipitation's anticipation of change
diffused morning light
the mustiness of first rain
a misty visibility hiding distant hills
a graying of the cityscape
skyscrapers in clouds
construction's crane quieted
in the mix of old and new
a slow rush hour
washing the street's grime
a coolness to my eyes
a slight chill in my bones
Autumn colored leaves swaying with breeze
on half empty trees
slanted raindrops incessantly blustering
a beautiful day
where only seagulls dare to fly
eight peeping eyes with healing hands
too good to help her to the restroom
"I'll call a nurse"
they just poked in to take a peek
feel her leg's edema
and inform me of possibility's progress
a colonoscopy?
a transfusion?
time keeps asking for more time
morning meds
an IV
a blood draw
a blood test strip
another trip to the restroom
a kind older gentleman's help
he thought I was her father
it's raining hard again
gutters like rivers
storm drains splashing white water
more skyline has gone missing
umbrellas wrestling wind
raindrops rilling down a picture window
as afternoon sheds it's light
as I watch sleep's breaths
her hunger awakens and feistiness returns
"Don't they feed their patients here?"
they never told us to call food services
another blood pressure reading
another blood draw
another trip to the restroom
and it's all good
a colonoscopy evaluation
maybe Thursday or Friday...
looks like time got her wish
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 5:53 PM UTC
had a picture of dad on my nightstand
it fell not too long ago
but landed upright
atop his shoe shine box that I kept
its new position not precarious
I let it stay there
thought it was kinda fitting
a picture from his older years
taken in the kitchen
looking up into the camera
from the task at hand
peeling boiled potatoes
for potato salad
my potato peelin' pop
morning sun shine spot lights that picture
warm, smiling, reassuring
mom's back in ICU now
transferred to rehab with high hopes
bleeding, unresponsive
cardiac arrest en route back to ER
x-rays, CT scans
transfusions, blood draws, ventilator
endoscopy?
colonoscopy?
dialysis?
quality of life questions
the more I watch her
the more I wonder
How I wish pop could tell us what to do
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
You won't like
Your colonoscopy,
I know,
I've not liked mine.
It's invasive,
You're contorted,
And the Prep
Is too unkind.
Yet,
One needs
A **** snoop
In the
Intestine.
It postpones
Eternity,
That makes it
Worth your time.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
A silver pipe strikes me on the left-hand window,
breaking the dullness of these grey hospital walls.
Granddad, you’re due for your umpteenth colonoscopy,
and here I am thinking about how your IV’d wrists
strip away light like a prism.
They bandage the hurt leaking from your eyes
and let rainbows clog up your insides.
(Is that why you can't go, you old geezer?)
(Smile a bit more, will you?)
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Encroaching satellites
High voltage saturation and shade
And an obtuse synopsis of cognitive psychology
Condensing your threshold
Searching for hand outs
Ripping the railings out of the walls
In the stairwells in the doctor's office on the way to your colonoscopy
Laying on the futon with and your therapist writing down everything you say
"Go on"
"Mhm"
"I see"
"How does that make you feel?"
Skid-marked underwear
Delving, dumpster diving for food
In the lonesome twilight
In the rippling rainstorm
People shelling out gripes
Squinting, doing a double take at you
Followed by a wavering tumult
They're gonna have you capped
That is, unless you purchase this love seat
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
I went to the hospital and they said they were going to shove a camera up my ***
I told them that I didn't want that to happen, I told them that I was going to pass.
But they said it was too late because I'd already signed the papers that allowed them to treat me.
But I didn't want a camera up my *** I would've rather that they used baseball bats to beat me.
They shoved the camera up my *** and it went in deep.
It really hurt because the idiots forgot to put me to sleep.
I cussed those ******** out and they said that they didn't like my attitude.
But they disliked it even more when they had to pay me two million bucks after I sued.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
Not sure if this would be consider taboo
To even mention the view
Did I just hear her say the word touche
When the doctor proceeded to do what she had to do
With stage crew and camara in hand
Filming what little dignity I have left
Are the tapes rolling, I may need consoling
When this crazy trip finds somewhere to land
Do I even need to mention the day before
Pills and laxatives by the score
To clean out my innards must be least 10 pounds thinner
Need I say anything anymore
Back to the uncomfortable crowd
You can hear a pin drop at the sound
For them it's routine, for me a dastardly deed
Could someone please send in the clowns
Adding a touch of savoir faire
Excuse me, is there enough room in there
If things get a bit tight make sure the pliers are sanitize
Anyone up for a game of truth or dare
Doesn't get anymore personal than this
Best friends now without even a kiss
Operation at 7 film at 11
To be viewed YouTube via Internet
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
It's a, colonoscopy, a simple colonoscopy
checking your bowels, for things that you, might have forgot
I mean a, colonoscopy
not really where ya wanna be
drinking goop that cleans ya out
and makes ya wanna gag
It's a, colonoscopy, a simple colonoscopy
not a packing of the fudge, or a deviant excuse
I mean a, colonoscopy
a cinematic intrusion probability
the kind that ya can't show the kids
or hang upon your wall
It's a, colonoscopy, a simple colonoscopy
it's a must for determining, if I'm cancer free
I mean a, colonoscopy
so I can exercise my liberty
I will not be persecuted anally
for at least three to four more years
It's a, colonoscopy, a super duper biopsy
popping polyps, before they can, ever pop me
I say a, colonoscopy
an endoscopic discovery
living worry free and wild
three to four more years
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
Hello, dear friends and family,
I write you on behalf of your own dis-functionality. Break away the molds of a less mortal man. Ne'er again will I be what I am. I am anachronistic I'm a flower. I expect sunshine I expect showers. I am lesser than an 8th grade child. Come with me Mr. Rogers, stay awhile.
Ulcers, explosions, colonoscopy, I'd like "things that come from the back side of me" for 500, Alex.
Reflex my mental perceptions and premarital sexuality. I'm Catholic, we're catholic; I think you're understanding me.
I used to write for you, but now I write for me. Pac Man ate my ***** yesterday, and a ghost I shall be.
Fan me the cool feels, fan me the sweet deals; I'd like to make money sometimes, but that's just the worldly me.
Let's be humerus, I'm flexing my skeletal muscles. Bone me twice, I'm flexible: tussle.
An antiperception of lesser mortal men, let us not take umbrage to the second tense of Portman's skin.
I see you, girl; I see you girl. I'm not interested, but that body speaks worlds.
Is that weird? I guess you can admire beauty without falling into lust. I suppose that's normal, save when staring at bust.
Let me anchor you; let me father. I'm not writing for my son, nor my daughter.
There's some serious necessities, there's some serious faults. I love you, and that's the honest truth, but what happens if we're lost? Five more words to go.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
Have you ever prepped for a colonoscopy?
That's what I get to do today.
It means no solid food for me;
Clear broth will be my entrée.
I get to drink as much water
And juice as I want; but there's a catch:
The constant need of a toilet nearby--
A slight downside to "Down the hatch!"
Another rule: I must not let
Anything RED pass through my mouth.
Apparently, red things tend to
Cause confusion…well…down "south."
When passing by the bakery window
Where freshly-baked sweets are lying,
I know it will be torture for me
To hear my stomach growling and crying.
I do get to eat popsicles--
That is, as long as they aren't red.
Maybe I can just pretend
That they're tacos or pizza instead.
I have to STOP thinking about food.
I know my hunger pains won't last
Forever, and I can always say
I'm on a liquid and popsicle fast.
When the real clean-out starts
Later in the afternoon,
That's when the fun REALLY begins!
Help! I want this over soon!
I will spare you those details.
Just know that more adventures follow.
I'll be relieved after this prep
And my trip to the surgery center tomorrow.
(But let me warn you: I really don't
Mean to freak you out, but
Don't worry if it feels as though
You're peeing out of your you-know-what!)
The actual procedure is not that bad--
Once I get through today and tonight.
I won't feel or remember a thing;
Hopefully, I'll be out like a light.
The doctor is also performing an upper
G.I. endoscopy. I strongly hope
That when he does it, he is certain
That he's using a different scope.
Too much information? Maybe.
But if you've never done this, you
At least know all the wonderful things
You have to look forward to.
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
I feel like an antiquity
some relic from the past
crumbling at the edges
eroded over time
aging has arrived
There are fissures in my proud steel plated armor
once invincible
reality is bringing with it a heavy blow
it creeps upon you
like a stealth thief in the night
now you berate yourself
for being caught unaware
new words slip into your vocabulary
things like “possible stroke”
a litany of tests are conducted
let’s begin with a blood test
maybe a ***** sample
we can schedule an MRI
is this a heart attack
there is a CAT or CT scan as it is known
what about the C word, cancer
let’s do an ultrasound
ff that doesn’t find it there is always
an endoscopy or colonoscopy complete with biopsy
the realization that life’s destiny is prevailing
is the end nigh
the relic you have become
looking at you in the mirror of life
Andreas Simic©
Apr 26, 2022
Apr 26, 2022 at 6:12 AM UTC
I am an adult,
No longer the kid I was,
the kid that chased wasps,
ordered ants to battle,
the one to enjoy a bike saddle,
now those are like colonoscopy,
an unpleasant pinch to me.
I could remember,
the feel of the grass on my sole,
As I ran through a field,
Feeling somehow very whole.
Completely oblivious to,
growing up,
where smiling was enough,
and happiness was trying to look up.
I am not the kid I use to be,
I wish I could be,
But the kid that chased bees,
No longer exists in this world.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 5:45 AM UTC
What a trip! Have you ever
Had a capsule endoscopy?
The prepping procedure's exactly what
You do for a colonoscopy.
It's SO much fun! Of course, I don't
Have to say I'm being sarcastic.
The feeling of peeing out one's rear
Isn't a feeling I'd call fantastic.
After the prep, it's all downhill.
A pill-like camera is ingested--
One that travels through the body,
Basically unmolested.
Wires taped to your body
Connect to a monitor, which will record
The camera's journey through your system.
"Everybody, hop on board!
"After the throat, we take a plunge
Down the esophagus. Hurray!
We're now in an empty stomach.
There's no food to get in the way.
"Watch out for those dangerous acids,
Which ask, 'What is this to digest?'
To them a camera passing through
Is NOT a very welcome guest.
"Next stop: the duodenum.
Here we go around the bend.
We still have a ways to go
Before our adventure nears its end.
"The long trek through the small intestine
Is a windy, curvy path
Five to seven meters long.
How many feet? You do the math.
"Say hi to Mr. Appendix
As we leisurely pass him by.
He's not the most appreciated
Part of the human body. Poor guy.
"As we traverse the colon we
Realize the end's in sight.
How refreshing to know that at
The end of the tunnel, there's a light!
"We hope the journey was a safe one
With NO dangers or major surprises.
The prep indeed was the worst part of all,
But life is full of compromises."
What happens to the capsule next
I'll leave to your imagination.
If everything comes out as planned,
That'll be cause for celebration.
- by Bob B (4-4-17)
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
(A MePhone rattles and twanks and pings like Robby-the-Robot gone bad.)
Woman: “Yeah?”
(silence)
Woman: “YEAH?”
(silence)
Woman: “I’m in the hospital.”
Noise from MePhone: (think Charlie Brown’s parents)
Woman: “I’m in the hospital!”
MePhone: (Charlie Brown’s parents)
Woman: “I’M IN THE HOSPITAL!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “I’M IN THE HOSPITAL!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “YEAH!”
MePhone: (a small child babbling)
Woman: “YEAH!”
MePhone: (incoherent noises – could be a ******
Woman: “FOR MY COLONOSCOPY!”
MePhone: (the ****** continues)
Woman: “FOR MY COLONOSCOPY!”
Offstage, a young woman in scrubbies: “Mr. Lawrence…?”
(Deo gratias)
Exit, pursued by Too Much Information.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
Mr. Roger’s chasing stars,
I poked holes in the drapes,
Breaking the sun into shards,
Remaking Adam and Eve in different shapes,
Tyson used Saturn as a vinyl record,
I run tapes like Nile’s sidewalks,
Sound spits like a momma bird,
Bachs piano teeth eating rocks
An Astro colonoscopy,
Shakespeare creating geometry,
Dominos fall down the pit,
With an ace taped over its scream,
Aurelius slit his wrists,
Mars is a **** star,
Making me resist
Breaking aliens hearts
Louis Armstrong did the moon walk,
Fitting his glove,
He then talked,
It has been shoved
Oppenheimer implemented the bomb,
My heart stops,
Pushing the cancer,
******** atomic clocks
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 12:01 AM UTC