"migraines" poems
Why go back
when you can move forward?
I face this question
each day I breathe.
It's not always so easy
to answer.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Keeps me looking back
to my past
behind my shoulder.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Usually associated
with our war heroes.
The ones who can't leave
the battlefield behind.
I am not one of them.
I am just
an anxious
a depressed
in pain
person.
But I can't help
that I have it.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
My battlefield
was the school,
the classrooms,
the playground.
The babysitter,
the dark closets,
the dark rooms,
the basement.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
The anxiety
the migraines
the depression
the fibro
no sleep.
All lead back
to square one.
The abuse
by my peers
by my teachers
by my babysitter.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Four easy letters
Four simple words
Lifetime in pain
from those simple things
from those not so simple things.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
It’s a good day the lord granted.
Everything seems so perfect.
Weather is sweet.
Sun’s shining.
What could go wrong?
…….Until…..
I felt you coming.
Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror.
How I wish for a false alarm.
Dear lord may this cup pass.
A moment to accept the inevitable arrived.
Oh my God! you seized me once again.
You came like a thief at midnight.
You hijacked my mind.
You exposed me to wrath of migraines.
Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day.
It's like a small stain on a white garment.
The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
I fall faster than gravitational acceleration.
Body jerks, vibrate like an earthquake.
Body and mind go separate ways.
Physical overcomes mental strength.
Muscles gain strength.
I can kick like an Ostrich.
Dare not to touch me.
Only I can reunite my body and mind.
The reunion results in confusion.
I get electrically shocked by migraines.
The joy of the reunion is short-lived.
I ask myself all the “Whys” in the world.
Only God knows why.
https://www.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends/
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Another silent mid-Fall afternoon
Icy raindrops slash into my neck
The forecast calls for falling thumbtacks soon
One thin umbrella folding
Just 18 feet to the front step
With champagne acquainted
But forgot how to sip it
I slurp it down, eager,
'til I sit soaked and dripping
In time, fevered minds
will lower ears made for hearing
under waves of migraines
as mighty storm fronts are nearing
So I close down the bars and stumble home under awnings
Just to search for your name among newspaper cuttings
I've read the whole issue
and I've frowned over headlines
put it down
Now, soaked or dry, I've got only time
I've wasted so much of it losing my mind
I'm blind in the rain that now sticks in my hide
and they were right--
The forecast called for this squall to last all night
Another lonely mid-Fall morning walk
I follow gangs of specters in their steps
And, in the crunching gravel, ghosts will talk
November winds come howling
The second I leave my front step
The flavor's familiar
It comes back every morning,
when sunlight and sparrows
ignore tornado warnings
So the gales pick up strength
and a small bird's bones are hollow
The clouds lay oceans down
setting many sips to swallow
"So goodnight." I depart, but circle back in my wanderings
I'll always wind up here--shaky, ash-faced and yawning
I've read this before
it's printed on poor paper
in red ink
I can't say why I'm still walking by
Those other front doorsteps that I never try
The thick thumbtack rain stopped but I can't stay dry
the ghosts were right--
But if I find your name I might stop by.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
by Desmond Makatu,
Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.
First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the crowd.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
Whose women these are I think I know.
His housefly’s dead on the vignette though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his women pick snowdrops.
My little hornpipe is quite queer
He stops without a farce or sneer
Between the women with their frozen ‘la’s
The commonest everyman of the yawl.
He gives his harlot beldams his shaft
To assure they are his mistresses.
The only other soundtrack's the sweat
Of easy win from downing flagons.
The women are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promenades to keep,
And migraines to go before I sleep,
And migraines to go before I sleep.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
Counting... Always... Counting.
A cup of herbal tea, maybe with some sugar.
If I feel up to it.
Maybe some soup, grilled cheese.
If I can stomach it.
Dinner. Whatever mom makes.
My only supervised meal.
Tired, all day... Every day.
Drowning in college papers.
The curves I worked so hard to get back...
Well. They're nearly gone.
Protruding hip bones,
Protruding collar bones,
Boney fingers,
Pale skin,
Fantastic figure and pretty ribs,
Cold toes and bad circulation.
Heart murmurs... Shaky breathing... Migraines... Exhaustion... Confusion... Lethargy... Weight loss
Shaking, Shaking, Shaking...
Shivering?
Gotta go make a cuppa, warm up a bit.
But... what's left for me to be healthy for, anyway?
I'll take a bath to warm up instead
Probably.
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 1:27 PM UTC
I laughed in places
Where Laughter was not asked for,
In granite market towns
Beneath refugee palm trees shivering.
Running from giant hands
That were covered in car wash fluids,
The back of children's heads imprinted
On their palms.
I laughed during disciplinary procedures,
Before authority figures
With cornflakes in their red beards
And my laughter crept over the edges of their flowerbeds
And the grass laughed with me.
I laughed at funerals,
The sounds of horses beyond the churchyard
And a messenger ran down the aisle
panting and exhausted,
He had a message for my laughter
' Quick you must come at once'.
I laughed during marital feuds,
Laughter rising out of its own body
above broken guitars and dried up bonsai,
Above all the things I said
That contradict me now.
I laughed during serious films,
The tulips drooping on top of the T.V.
The sun slumped against the door,
Behind heavy curtains
I mistook for pigs on hooks.
I laughed over exercise books,
Above algebra and history
Behind impossible bra straps
That appeared out of acne and ink flicked backs.
I laughed at the swimming pool
Hiding birthmarks like stains,
Drowning above the water saying
'I am a fish I must get back in!'.
I laughed in surgeries among migraines
and told my mother that robots were taking over,
in the same rooms where they removed my brothers' verucas
And I saw the doctors small blade
escape through the window.
I laughed during friends confessions,
In between the silences of repeated songs
While pantomime dames walked past windows
make-up running in black and yellow rain.
I'm laughing while making coffee in a campervan,
I'm laughing because its a monday morning,
Because everyone else is busy,
Because we have an oil lamp from a pound-shop
Burning beneath the sound of rain on the roof,
Because the radio's silent…..
And because sausages are best done slowly.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they say don't it's bad for you,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some crack-addled *****
frustration at every turn, as I see
the corridors of my mind; a dead end
every time, and maybe the migraines
are a true sign of recent times
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so
feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they said don't it's bad for me,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some lonesome lowlife
I understand the kettle's whistle,
tormented and brought to boiling point,
tortured by the very talents that give it purpose
am I a kettle or a joke to you?
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
It feels like feet migraines.
That's what I called them
When I was little.
When you put your feet into the ocean
At 47 degrees.
And your feet ache from the cold.
But even when you run back,
Avoiding the waves,
It still hurts.
"It's like a headache, but in my feet."
That's how everything feels now.
Every day.
Even my heart,
And my dragon eyes,
And my loud tongue.
Migraines.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
When I was 15, I wouldn’t have believed you
if you told me all of this about constant lament
in a Red painted Animal House of scapegoats
that I’ve yet to see
it’s
streets of beige
it’s
fast food bad food no food spilled milk or beer
it’s
the South no the East maybe West probably North
it’s
in the air the water the meat there’s just too much heat to breathe or hold a job
it’s
hourly wages and daily commutes of gypsy peddlers in a town I’ve never been to
it’s
the cigarettes or nicotine my useless spleen filtering things I should never inhale or drink
it’s
divorce rates leading to ***** flicks c-sections finding acquaintances on monitors after dark only able to generate laughter over years of tears
it’s
women
it’s
pain
it’s
the migraines we get when we're waiting on the rain to paint the beige streets bronze
it’s
rolling trees metal trucks frozen lakes lumber jacks and ice fishing
it's
the anxiety of right wrong bad good all grey in the sunshine without you
it’s
the words of times you said meaning more to me than it ever could to you
it’s
the colossus of Wall St. overbearing my own suit and tie un-ironed or cared for but necessary none the less
it’s
CCTV the fight for power Government foreign travelers or terrorists Project Paper clip MK Ultra Plum Island persuasion propaganda Paul Wolfowitz
it’s
who governs what you can afford when you sit tattered on a curb after earning another mans bread
it’s
what has or has not been said 7 times or none that still lingers on the grass out front of home or house
it’s
no matter how big you are you still answer a toy phone handed to you by a two year old
it’s
the tears of Alexander when he realized there were no more worlds to conquer
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
There's a beast inside my head
throwing his fists against my brain
and with every breath I take
in, out,
I feel as if I'm riding upon
the crest of a wave
up, down,
a terrible journey
I never intended to take.
But enveloped within
your arms so tightly,
your chin resting on my head
oh so lightly,
I find myself within a cocoon
of safety, comfort.
You leave far too soon,
and I wish I could keep you
here with me at all times.
But even after you've gone
I dream of you,
and when I wake
you're the first thought
that flutters into my mind.
And I am calmed.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
it's not even noon, but
my thoughts are drenched with
*** bound and gagged.
you're dancing around the kitchen, clad
only in a pair of
lace ******* you paid
too much for at Victoria's
Secret liaisons by the
seaside, sand sieving through your hair:
all forms of metal-backed currency taste
like ***** on your fingertips stuffed
roughly in my mouth,
call me a ****
pretty please?
promethazine slathered over
watermelon sherbert and
soaked in Sprite; put a lid on it and
shake vigorously until well mixed.
Xanax exacerbated migraines mean
naptime for me, and I forgot to tell you
the Gatorade is spiked with *****
(or maybe tequila; I've well and truly
forgotten) and all of this
is just another means of
replacing you.
you're wrapped in an
ecru trench coat,
cinched at the waist over
concealed weaponry:
unlicensed pistol and wet coral *****
constrained by a black leather holster and
cobalt cotton.
you kissed me with
******* in your nostrils and
nosebleed on your lips;
you killed me with
contempt in your mouth and
venom on your nails.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
how do you tell someone
you’re losing yourself again
how do you tell the people who love you
you can’t eat anymore
how do you tell them you feel like you’re going to faint every minute of everyday
and all you can do is lay in bed
and when you do get out of bed
the world goes black for a minute
how do you explain the constant headache
the constant pain in your head
not just from the malnourishment
but from the thoughts you can’t stop
the ones you can’t ever slow down
how do you explain that to them
how do you say you’re so completely ******* exhausted of this
that you don’t want any of this
that you resent yourself for thinking this way
but at the exact time
you can’t let go of it
with all the brittle strength inside of you
you can’t get rid of this
so you sit exhausted
during the happiest time of the year
just wishing that this time a year ago
you weren’t like this
life wasn’t this hard
every waking second
a year ago you could get out of bed
you didn’t feel like throwing up every second because you’re migraine is eating away the tiny thing you call your body
every inch of it
a year go you could bring yourself to brush your teeth and take a shower
it didn’t seem like an unbeatable task
it seemed like life
to be frank, you didn’t think twice of it
a year ago
how do you explain
every time you wake up
you miss life
you miss living
because it doesn’t feel like life right now
when you fight with yourself to eat
when nourishing your body seems like a tall feat
life isn’t quite the same
so your life now is dreaming of a life before all this
before every part of your life didn’t seem like a task and a burden
before you pushed everyone away
and locked yourself alone
how do you tell them all this
because i hear it when i say it
how crazy it sounds
i see it in their eyes
when i’m crying about having a sandwich
because the thought of bread and calories makes my whole world collapse
i understand how absurd i sound
i do
don’t worry
so what do i do?
go back to treatment
and have to weigh myself
and take my blood pressure
to see if insurance thinks i’m sick enough to pay to help me get better
do i talk to people about my feelings
because that makes me feel even more crazy
do i tell my therapist
because i haven’t seen her in months
because i was okay for a point of time
or do i call my doctor
so she can tell me that my nausea and migraines are just because i’m not eating enough
and how i’m destroying myself
how dangerous this is
what do i do
tell me
because all that’s keeping me together
the only thing that makes me hold on
is a year ago
when i wasn’t losing myself.
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
you consume my deepest,
darkest, sickest thoughts.
makes me wish i was dead,
an escape from my head.
migraines from overthinking,
memory loss from drinking,
bleeding knuckles from,
destroying walls.
destructive behavior,
because of a past lover,
a cold hearted mess,
one whom my attraction,
is growing quite intense.
her beauty is extraordinary,
why am i so hung up on,
someone who always hurt me,
not by accident, on purpose,
knocked me down so much,
on the hard pavement.
three years badly spent,
chasing a twisted girl,
who doesn't know,
how to control,
her mind or self,
instead liking to,
manipulate,
someone,
else.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
Lately I've been getting
really bad headaches
and I can't seem to figure out why
because this has never before been
a problem.
I try to go about my day and be happy,
but the second i do,
migraine.
They're bad, too.
My head literally feels like it's going to
implode,
leaving me to be a headless ghost
falling to my knees
and crumpling to the ground
in a pathetic heap,
never even knowing what happened.
I don't know whats going on,
but I feel like these headaches
might just mean something.
Maybe its too much stress
or too much pressure.
Maybe I just cant deal with
the weight of the world
for too long.
Maybe thats the problem.
I simply can't handle life.
These migraines are warning signs
that my breaking point is near
and I need to just break myself away
from society,
for at least a couple moments
just to take a breather
and massage my temples
and calm down
and possibly even cry
because crying really does help sometimes
and tell myself that its going to be alright
and that I can handle this
and I can handle life.
These migraines really will be the death of me.
~kns
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
Tell me how,
One person can divide into
Three perfectly psychotic sentiments
While still appearing to be whole
Tell me how
Multiplying your kindness only
Creates a rift between myself and patience
And ends with nights of contemplation followed by tumultuous
Back-and-forths with imaginary numbers
For I am no mathematician
I cannot find a solution to every concrete problem
I do not bother with equations or substitutes
I only skim the symbol, rewrite questions and leave the answers hanging in the air
Tell me why,
Subtracting victims from my life
Only added a murderous sentiment
To every repeating decimal that couldn’t find its’ place
Tell me why,
The quadratic formula is emblazoned in my memory
But everyone keeps throwing opposites at me
So forgetting whether to add or to subtract becomes hazy
And the square root gets suspended until next class, so the
Four drops off the plane, two goes insane, and
Letters lose their fictitious meanings
For I am no mathematician
Archimedes is finding the constant of my triangular coffin
While Newton is rolling in his gravity
Carl Gauss is busy laughing his *** off with fundamentals in his eyes and
Descartes keeps whispering incoherent Latin, migraines sprinting towards me
As if in a race
So don’t ask me
Whether or not you should divide by zero
Or whether it requires sine, cosine, or a tangent
My logic will not tell you anything you want to hear
I am through trying to piece together this imaginary puzzle
And I’ve had enough of playing this never-ending game
Because I’ve been through two continents, and 4 different states
And I still don’t know the meaning of my name.
For I am no mathematician
The only pie charts I am fond of,
have to do with sugar and preheating an oven to 450 degrees
And with every cubic centimeter
I start thinking of cubes of cheddar cheese
For I am no mathematician
I can’t graph a simple line
I don’t understand the dimensions of the polygon shown above
And I’m tired of wasting precious time
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters
Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed
Grids of brainwaves for the degraded
Overhead LED view is negroided
Chapter 1 Migraines;
A klaxon that grains into migraine
From there on out, strolling convulsion lane
Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely
Throe after throe I choose not to fuss
Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body,
Frequent as days turn nightly
I host the severe megrimly
Chapter 2 Vomiting;
A horendous bile builds up in my throat
Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats
Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry
Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye
Vital fluid very crimson soon came
From the cranium, I dislose, head pain
Frequent as the waves harsh blows
I host a ***** hose
Chapter 3 Tumor;
A neoplasm underneath I've found out
Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt
Below I feel like a mutant
All putant and disformed
Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste
As long as I can still haste
Crescendo and surge won't ado
Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour
I host a cyst that is sour
Chapter 4 Deaf;
An absense of all frequencies
I daze everso daily;
Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied
Missing the wind's howls that ululate,
Clamors and bellows that spoliate
I can't sight the same verbiage
Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage
Frequent as birth enfolds
I host a soundless toll
Chapter 5 Brain Cancer;
A malignant fate told today
Disease spreading like a machine,
Programmed to enquire all it knows
A gruesome and hateful dose;
Withering casually away
Grown apart of, I'm the prey
As we hunt the beasts'
An invisible naked eye is poaching
Frequent as a house infested
I host a cancerous clothing
Chapter 6 Death;
A termination soon to unfold
I am as finished and ruined as story told
Biological function ending
Senescence through spending
User maat I haven't seen all wanted
Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted
Frequent as a death anew
I host a dissolution
My evolution; through.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
it shocks me to think that i let you touch me the way that you did,
your fingers dipped into my skin and an arm slung my neck.
you left an imprint that will never leave.
i have rubbed my skin pink and raw countless times but i am never truly clean.
who am i more disgusted with?
myself,
for letting this happen?
or you,
for still having the nerve to get so close- hot breath prickling the back of my neck, sparking skin, inferno eyes- and tell me our game is done?
yes, the game i was never told we were playing... every tiny motion, every syllable, every touch… just a simple strategy to win.
i was unknowingly an opponent that you sought to knock down.
you never even let me know the rules.
now you flinch at the touch you once so lovingly leaned into.
(i use the word “lovingly” sarcastically, of course. you and i both know that, to you, there is no such thing as love. only winning or losing.)
so, you’ve emerged a victor. what’s your prize? tears that leave me hollow on the inside? midnight migraines while i long for a love that will never come?
does it fill you with satisfaction to watch the way i tremble when you come near?
you keep the trophies of every body you’ve invaded along the shelf of your room. i’m sure you run your finger over the plastic lip and think about the way her breath hitched and eyes fluttered shut when you did the same to her. she tastes like golden-plated achievements, doesn’t she?
but what you already have is not enough. you are constantly on the lookout for another medal, another souvenir from her heart.
you will make her laugh, deep from her stomach that causes her head to snap back. her chest will feel heavy when she looks at you.
(but it is not love.)
you will give her those half-lidded gazes and whisper in her ear and trace patterns into her side.
(but it is not love.)
you will get close- far too close.
(but it is not love.)
then you will sever that thin thread between you both.
dip it in gasoline.
set it on fire.
add fuel to the flames with a few venomous words.
but you are not to blame.
it is never your fault, is it?
misunderstood,
that’s what you are.
acrylic fingertips
and regurgitated phrases.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
I tasted every bitter lie
As you shoved them down my throat
Now I'm full of poison-soaked phrases
Badly in need of an antidote
Lost promises rest in my abdomen
Next to the deception I was fed
I need a cure for untrue words
Before this illness renders me dead
Fallacies come crawling back up
Venom rising in my windpipe
Sick to my stomach with acceptance
Your falsehoods have become overripe
I can't contain the toxic deceit
It's overflowing from my gut
Excuses pour out from my mouth
Alibis Ive managed to rebut
The ***** burns my weary tongue
Sour as it leaves my lips
Betrayal has me feeling queasy
Unwell from hearing your rehearsed scripts
My stomach empties it's contents
Spewing intricate facades
Until it is rid of all the
Charades, illusions, and frauds
Infected with dishonesty
My body is rocked by unease
I've taken a turn for the worse
Consumed by this relentless disease
This virus I have come down with
Takes it's toll on my heart and mind
I grow more fatigued each day
But relief I have yet to find
Chills, shakes, soreness, and migraines
Plague my organs, bones, and skin
My muscles are endlessly cramping
I loathe the fever I'm burning in
I do not know why I feast on your
contaminated reality
I'm sure if I continue to
I will soon be a fatality
My health is deteriorating
Still i dine on fantasies unreal
I hope for a miracle pill but
My flesh may not be able to heal
I fear I'll be plagued as long as I
Swallow your lies, deranged and uncouth
The cure I have been longing for
is a simple medicine called Truth
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 5:33 AM UTC
I'm not sure what they said
what is done really messes with my head
Communicating with butterflies always ends with them in your stomach
then we age and wonder why we're aneamic
just say yes or no
there is no pain in rejecting a question
there is only pain in a lack of communication
as messing with the senses creates an awful sensation
so just stop ******* around
and say what you mean
Anxiety, depression, migraines, mysteria
they never make much sense
now i know this isn't in your criteria
but just be honest
be blunt
it will end all pain
I may be ambitious
you may be delicious
but miscommunication is disatrious
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
O indiginous tuber to Peru,
Now in nations' daily stews,
From the Polar South to Timbuktu,
Ranked with rice, wheat and maize,
Oh staple potatoe
You grace our table.
We plant seed spuds,
Red, yellow or brown,
Harvest the new ones,
The remainder mound
To thrive in leisure,
As buried treasure.
Heel the spud *****
Unearth your trove,
A gatherer's surprise
To woo true love.
We slice, dice and mash,
Roast, deep-fry and bake.
It's not an egg,
It'll never break.
***Medium-rare, please.
And make mine a baked.
Oh, and don't forget the butter,
Oh, and sour-cream, just in case.”***
It hasn't got *** appeal,
What you see is true,
But make no mistake,
I swear by what's holy in taste,
It only has eyes for you.
Pharmaceutically,
It soothes,
Burns, itches, puffy eyes,
Migraines and headaches.
Make a stamp,
Make silver shine,
Clean your windows with its brine.
And potatoe muffins are simply divine.
When blight strikes,
When crops don't thrive,
Many starve,
Many have died.
So, I raise this toast
To the lofty Tuber,
And I dedicate this Ode,
To the one,
The only:
***Mr. Potatoe,
This bud's for you.***
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
Dear Migraines, tell me will anyone see the blood stains this time?
"from one to ten rate your pain."
"I'm just fine."
Dear Migraines, will anyone not believe me this time?
The message didn't scare me it was the context.
Did you send that to all of your contacts?
You can lie all you want, All I want is the facts.
If you're angry stay away from the ax no matter what form It's in.
Dear Migraines in his head, I know it's just all in his head.
Excuses, Excuses "It was an accident."
Dear Migraines, are you fluent in his thoughts?
Dear Suicidal thoughts, were you frequent? were you constant?
"it was an accident"
A note to his parents, why were you absent? Children need you even after they're an infant. And there is never a time to make them your servant.
Dear Pills, was it really that urgent? Why didn't you stay in the bottle?
Dear Bottle, did your contents stop the pounding in his thick skull?
I have to chuckle but it's not funny, It makes my eyes wet and my nose runny. And I don't know why. I've slowly forgotten what it's like not to cry. have you?
Dear Migraines, more like figment of his imagination darkening the pigment of his skin where the scars are in creation.
Dear Migraines, you are not obligated to be an obligation.
Dear Officer is this against his probation?
Dear God, should I pray for his Salvation?
Dear Suicidal thoughts, may you die of starvation. I hope no one feeds you
He doesn't need you!
Dear complication, why are you so complicated?
I can't imagine he sat there and contemplated death.
Dear Death, don't let him take his last breath, Please.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
A B C D F...what defines us?
Stupid letters staring at me screen, I never knew a letter could scare me.
Why am I so strung out?
The little letter gives me anxiety
migraines, back aches, sleep deprivation.
A is for Acceptable
B is for Barely okay
C is for Cannot believe how stupid you are!
D is for don't bother coming home
F is for Failed out of this life.
I can do it.
I can do it.
I can do it.
Can I do it?
Can I do it?
Can I do it?
I cannot do it.
I cannot do it.
I cannot do it.
Tell me one more time why it is worth it?
College? Intellectual? Brilliant?
Can I still have that without the perfect little letter?
One more night writing this paper.
One more Algebra problem.
One more History report.
My will is breaking.
I stay up day and night crying.
I forgot how to relax.
Thank you to my little letters
for forever defining who I am.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
I don't know where to start... I feel plane
infinite points traced around my brain.
Many ticks ***** injustice migraines
Right now I wanna vent on hot air blimps
self proclaimed pimps
till my tongue twists limp
or turn a loaded gun on immature mutual funds
my grain is rough
and I've grown bitter an tough
my mind metal is scuffed
I Dizzied my Gills be cheeks blowin up guts
what happened to the wonderful world
musta been the Tea.. now I'm Ralphing up Chucks
high society
in memory
it used to be
where I wanted to be
Visa Via
English living was the life for me
guess I'd traded up for some Hot **** reaL-It-Tea
I think I've had enough
guess I stuffed and over fluffed
had too much empty v (MTV)
sipping on that 4 twin Tea
Now I gotta V!
I vibrate so viciously
I violate all variations of conform Ahh!, Tea
Been too long slipping on and spilt ma Chi
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC