"colostomy" poems
Diarrhea boom...
FLERRRRRRRK!!!!
I am sweating on this silent throne,
Cold is my sweating double lump, my butt-ox.
Dripping sopping is my hole, wet for you, my boo.
PLUMP! SHPLOOP! SQUISH!
UHN! UWAAAAAH!
That is my plural drip, my dipping **** flow, Niagara.
Ookatini flip, my pencil fell in.
Fish it out with my hand.
Ooh, Telpavin. Time out time, sitting on the toiley.
There is no doiley to conceal this mess. Ten sixteen.
3 A.M.
7 A.M.
I'm not even wiping yet.
My dad comes in from working the steel mill. He needs the can.
I cannot.
Offer him.
It.
I wiped for hours.
Then I pooped again.
Like an elephant.
I need a colostomy bag.
Diarrhea Boom part 5
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 1:02 AM UTC
I am getting older
and my body is in tatters
My Doctor's say, "You're fine, You're fit"
I think they're mad as hatters
Each day a new pain rears it's head
My body falls apart
My Doctor's say, "You're fine, You're fit"
As they listen to my heart
My bladder's my new stop watch
Each night I rise to ***
I get up once at half past ten
And then just after three
I'm cold and then I'm sweating
Sometimes both in one breath
It makes me feel I'm crazy
It's a slow, nervewracking death
My knees ache every morning
And my hips pop as I walk
I have to work my jawbones
Just so I can start to talk
I've had surgeries on my body
Just to help me stay alive
I can't see where I am going
I'm can no longer go and drive
But, my Doctors say I'm healthy
They say I'm healthy as a horse
But isn't "Flicka" served in restaurants?
His flesh is now a new main course
I use a cane when I go walking
I have a seat to go upstairs
I wear a wig when I'm in public
I seem to dress myself in layers
I need a pill to wake myself up
I need another so I sleep
But because my bladder's my new stopwatch
I never go to sleep too deep
Today I'm going to get tested
To check the hearing in one ear
Please excuse me for a moment
What was that you said my dear?
Now my Doctor's keep insisting
That there's nothing wrong with me
Like I said, I think I'm crazy
They're the nuts and I'm the tree.
they've got me tricked out special
I've got orthotics and a cane
My bursititis hurts like crazy
And I think it's gonna rain
My oxygen tank is empty
And my voiding bag is not
But I'm still having those flashes
I still feel cold and hot
With the bag I sleep much better
I don't get up twice to ***
But it wasn't fun last birthday
Having a colostomy
But, my Doctor's say Don't Worry
Your'e as fit as fit can be
But I tell them it's distressing
For I'm not yet thirty three
I'm sick of always hurting
Each day more vigor do I lose
But today I am excited
I'm getting velcro for my shoes
I think some exercise might help me
With all my aches and all my pains
It may help me to feel younger
Feel like thirty two again
But my Doctors, Oh my Doctors
Say there's nothing wrong at all
It's just a natural part of aging
It's mother nature come to call
But I know, I 'm getting older
and it's just a part of life
I'm just glad I have a drug plan
To help me with this strife
Now, my O2 tank is full now
And I've got a buzzing in my head
That means my battery is running low
So...Goodnight...I'm off to bed...
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Sometimes I keep my eyes open when we kiss
and you say it’s odd
I'm just trying to memorize the way the back of your eyelids look
until I can see deep shades of pink and blue in my sleep
A week ago you ate in front of me for the first time
And just yesterday you showed me the open hole in your stomach
It was only a picture of course
I have yet to see you fully unclothed and that is okay
I told the sadness I loved it again tonight
but it didn’t say it back this time
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
i) up the stairs
red scarves and tight skirts
loose slacks and grey shirts
my how the landscape has changed
I can’t say that I love to be dipped into this *** of pretty
where the lipstick liner queens supreme
and the coffee is brewed to mitigate the colostomy retch
so I try a yellowed paper backed beat
but it held nothing to the shoebox diorama
of national care
where the alphabetised gates of ingress
more or less double as departure lounge
for the broken and spent where their god
might sit them on fashionably backed chairs
for the percentile of misplace repairs
or is it me that smells of warm ****
ii) down the travelator
a troll lives under the MRI,
moved on from the bridge by the gruffest of beards,
now working externally of the fable
beneath the table of the magnetic eye
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Perhaps it's the way his colostomy bag hangs
off his waist like John Wayne's pistol in Rio Bravo,
or the trail of **** left when it ripped last Monday
from his chair to the refrigerator.
He must have noticed,
he turned right and filled the sink with feces
and called over the nurse.
She pioneered along the trail,
and fit him with a new bag.
More **** oozed
through the tube
filling a fresh bag.
I sat there and licked
my nasal drip into my lips,
hoping the sparkle of my snotty glossy shine
would catch your eye,
like your favorite **** rag
in a line up of church bulletins.
The putrid lavender like scent
swimming through the air like flying fish,
allows me to dream
quicker than any drug.
I dream of the day where we both lay naked
with our old wrinkled skin connected like praying hands
where your feces and ***** flow freely to fill in epidermic gaps.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
Weeping willows will wrangle wayward wanderers wrestling with worries washed with wrath.
When will we wash vices with bleach
until they are as white sands on a beach.
Maybe when we lose ourselves
we will become familiar with our true selves.
To save ourselves from the fearful and mystical
place we all call hell.
Though hell is on earth
it is the reason we are all born at our worst
and heaven is in our mind.
Yet, we are all slaves of time
and a punch in clock.
Cashing in time for currency
hoping that the pain will stop.
The pain of missing our seeds grow.
The pain of longing for what we don't know.
Life pains so deep
you don't get any sleep.
Weeping willows will wrangle wayward wanderers wrestling with worries washed with wrath.
Some say life is full of ****
a whole colostomy bag.
It hasn't been the best
man I can't brag.
Shots to cure the pain
I drag with mary on my brain.
She helps the drive
when I'm going insane
or away from those
that claim they are sane.
In a world filled with
doubt from the poor
and no hope from the rich.
You might feel
like calling it quits
but the sun shines bright
over the hills.
Even at night
it shines back at you
through the moon.
I stay up late
and watch it shine through my room.
Through the door
and down the halls.
That's how I know
I'll never fall.
Superior beam of light
with the will to fight
the monsters of the night
and the demons of the day.
That is why
I can tell those that are lost
that the weeping willows will wrangle wayward wanderers wrestling with worries washed with wrath.
Don't let the darkness
of the day
dim your light
and steer you from your path.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Shedding skin as and treading water.
Lucid dreams of my miscarried daughter.
Miscarry-on my wayward son,
i stumbled on and off the path,
the wayward one.
but that's a misnomer,
the division I felt towards the end of midsummer,
Its just that some of my steps were misnumbered,
Im thinking less or feelin more, just feel..numb-er,
Relapse, from my preparation anxiety,
Its tearing me apart..
and im tearing up from the perforations inside of me,
I need some separation,
Im beside myself.
I need a different interpretation,
I despise..myself.
Dyin is easy but see living is the hard part,
Been that way since I learned to read rainbows,
Since Arthur was aardvark,
I feel like the Black Kratos,
My thoughts was all dark,
Needed armor for my karma,
Im a poor mans Tony Stark,
Had to build myself up,
Stepped on my own legos,
Had built up aggression,
On me it had a negative effect on,
I needed to let go and i was often ****** off,
and was tired of getting ****** on.
But the urination proved to be useful,
The kidney stones of my past, had passed-
that pain don't hurt like it used to,
This irrigation was aggravating but we all going through some ****
Just try and focus on the **** you do do,
Been down bad,
Been living out a bag,
Some celestial colostomy - some vibration voodo,
I use my that so raven complex-
to guide me through this conquest,
I can try and explain this concept,
But its hard to take it outta context....
Nov 6, 2023
Nov 6, 2023 at 2:29 PM UTC
I'm into the dark bloom
I cried for the doom by an obscene colostomy
do not dare to ask whose
I just shall not answer in my mask of crystal
I sniff my pain
I shout my regret
but, could I give this guilt a culprit or a name anyway?
The lines of fear start to turn out my brain
even if it is going to devour me
let me be mysterious
even if you know what the plot is
Is the light a fool?
Or just am I being the silly mime?
I disintegrate on the void of their heart
My head creates non-existent memories before my disease
but at the edge of the lame time
who I am to blame?
Just lose you in the deepest ditch
where the ache is not drilling my walls
just the silence of my biggest penumbra counting my clock’s sand.
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 2:45 PM UTC
She's got fingernails like beetle shells
Lashes like arachnids
Grasshopper cloppers
And the feelers of a healer
Loud as a monarch
She's got a tick
That's gorged itself to grapehood
Her second heart exposed
Like a colostomy bag
Some kind of mystery flag
Rolled up, dipped in kerosene
And stuffed into a bottle of glowworms
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 12:26 PM UTC