"pepto" poems
I’ve been labeled with a term that begins with P and ends with oet
But I owe it to to those listening to explain the steps I’ve taken
225 days of mistaken tippy toes and battles fought arresting a demon to keep him caged thirsty
He stays thirsty
Drips of thick liquid that bring cure to others make his body sick but his mind goes at ease
The random shocks of pain that jolt throughout my body telling me to get more is a reminder that this struggled battle will never be over
This devil on my shoulder is whispering terms of endearment while the angel is tirelessly hanging off my biceps trying to whisper his words of truth
There’s no other way around it
I live by the standard ‘once an addict always an addict’
I am an addict
Before that fact jumps down your throat to join the heart that jumped up in it, let me explain
Addicts like me work long *** days breaking their back to break bread and emerge victorious in their ocean of mistakes
Instead of treading H20, it’s theraflu and pepto,
I used to be drowning but now I’m only waist deep
Slowly, day by day, the drain taking it away makes the level of pepto low
Soon, maybe I’ll be able to say I’m in a puddle getting my tippy toes wet in OTC’s
Then it’ll dry
My tongue shall stay dry
Like that of the demon that stays
Caged
Thirsty
Waiting for a day that my mentality meets frustration so great that I’m attempted to sling that syrup down my throat so suddenly that my stomach acid is left in wonder
Silently slipping into a comatose state that no soul may recover from
To prevent this, I’ll pin praying hands to my nose and speak to a God that I’m not even sure is listening
As I apologize from straying away from the path he’s set for me, I’ll look forward and realize that the hurting is gone
Indeed, more will come
But there is no fear in these eyes
My mother’s soft touch on my shoulder
Friends cementing their hands to my spine to make sure I stay standing
I feel safe and secure to stand on a cliffs edge while the oceans muddy water rushes at it’s walls
I will not fall
Because I just showered
And I intend on staying clean…
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
Animal Crackers and my soup
Undigested in my ****
All the food I ate today
Coming out in the same way
Uncontrollable urge to strain
Even though it causes pain
My poor sphincter it does burn
And my guts just churn and churn
Pepto Bismol my old friend
Go right now and put an end
To the horrible, rancid flow
Burning my **** as it does go
Cramping spasms all day long
Something I ate went horribly wrong
Could it be the salad or bread?
Or maybe something not quite dead?
Perhaps it was the chicken or stew
Or the fish, boo hoo hoo!
I'm just praying for an end
So my **** can start to mend
And then suddenly to my surprise
That nasty flow simply dies
Gleefully I start to wipe
But then as I start to swipe
I hit a very tender spot
That feels like it is now red hot
Now the Charmin feels real rough
Like tree bark or abrasive stuff
I finish wiping with great care
While the pain I grin and bear
At last I stand and flush with glee
That nasty stuff that came from me
A moment later to my shagrin
I feel the urge to sit again
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
My grandmother likes salami, God, and bougainvilleas
I like to think she likes tenuous pink things-
but then there’s the salami.
One day she taught her daughters to string neck-
laces from bougainvillea petals
like-ponies-in-a-junkyard
I think I chewed too much bubblegum in mass
because I picture God pink
an ethereal globe of a poppable pale pink.
And for some reason, I like to think Brother
Charles saw that too
I bet my lungs are somewhat pink:
more pink than my berry red blood
but less pink, sweet and/or hairy
than a cotton candy poodle.
I forget if they were strawberries or rasp-
berries too
There are things that are pink
but then there are things that are pink
and shadowless.
Like subterranean lungs,
God, the future, and
the smell of flamingos in the dark
The future is still pink and
somewhat fruity
like a lukewarm strawberry milkshake blushing,
or was it maybe just the taste
of my pepto-bismol stained lips.
One of those ponies was my mom
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
Be afraid.
The breakdown of civilization
is at the hands of our well-meaning,
overly thrifty,
spoon-wielding mothers.
Be very afraid.
They are entranced by spices
and covering condiments,
pepper and powder,
onion and garlic galore.
Gingerly they add cumin and dill,
cinnamon, nutmeg or cloves
with thyme to add sage and curry,
parsley, paprika and allspice.
Their casseroles become
zombie food
as the dead
reanimates.
These cheese-added monsters,
hungry for mystery-meat,
render brains to mush
and bind our bowels.
They stiffen our gait
with numbness and nausea
until we are rendered victims
of another pepto-pandemic.
And in the night
of the living dead,
feeding us salt
in a casserole apocalypse,
we panicked victims become
the casseroles we consume.
Now paralyzed
in fear
by the light
of the open refrigerator.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 1:00 PM UTC
It came like a sudden darkness, storming up and snuffing out the already fading light of dawn,
When I found myself floating, above the ground suspended on the backs of blue clouds that kissed the purple sky like a clinging lover
Chasing the movement of birds before my eyes I turned to stare down at the blackness beneath my toxic cloud of color, at the puke green sea covered in the orange foam of soda where what looked like the remnants of my breakfast that morning road the frothy waves.
Pink,
Pink
Pepto-Bismol stained whales attacked the early air blowing bubbles filled with what looked like Oreo cream screaming happily the music of contentment
A cry a loud mewling filled the acid induced happiness of the moment, yowling agonizingly, as if possessed by the spirit of pain itself.
Thumping, Screeching clash and the ***** of nails had me blinking away from my floating tea party within the sky and looking rather questionably to the hunky dream boat pouring me a fresh glass of tea,
His smile plastered by the very gods themselves didn't waver, and in my dreamlike stupor I thought nothing of it
But the terrified yowling, hissing, strange purr-mewl didn't stop.
The sky no longer a pleasant purple faded to a nasty shade of plum conjuring two disembodied chillingly green slated eyes
Frantic with irrational fear I panicked falling off my blue cloud to plummet towards the angry green sea below
Falling, Falling ever faster staring up at the sinister glowing ambient green eyes, whilst hearing that terrifying screeching yowl, from the Cheshire maw
Slamming awake with the tingling sensation of a ghostly belly flop, I find myself still staring up at those eerie green eyes.
This time surrounded by a flowing mane of toffee fur and speckled with tan zigzagging stripes of inky black,
Buddy, with his demanding meow of attention, insistently pawing my forehead with the command of a gentle rub,
Plucking my wings, and crippling me with a cuteness that only he can have.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
The sentence looks like someone who's sibling I used to be,
smells like sand and Pepto Bismol.
and is wet and warm and sticky.
As it sounds like a gun shot in an apartment in Virginia,
The sentence whispers to me a time of death.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 4:52 AM UTC
But wait!
Why don’t you invite some friends?
Pepto Bismol, Tum’s, Imodium, Kaopectate, and then a moment in thought, “I only have one life to live for my country”
I don’t think so
I would also make sure I have my legal document in placed and a Bed Pan if I just can’t make it
Well the Bake Off is on
But let me stand back where I belong
The competitors are baking with all their secret ingredients
I wonder what’s their secret?
I don’t want to know
But on with the show
Just don’t tell my stomach in advance
Now back to the Bake Bake Bake Off
The competitors are now ready to place their cakes into the oven
The oven is set at 350 to heat
This might be a good time to retreat
But I might have to be the Judge
However, why do I feel like I am being nudged
It’s a ***** job but someone must do it,but why me?
The cakes are ready for the taste test or garbage bag
There were five competitors:
COMPETITOR# 1 - Cake went flat like a tire
COMPETITOR# 2 - Cake couldn’t be cut, and the only words that came
out of the Competitors mouth was “BUT”
COMPETITOR# 3 I am not sure if it is a Layer Cake or Pancake
COMPETITOR# 4 Shouldn’t be in the competition as cake had nasty
all over it.
COMPETITOR# 5 Well done with their cake in bake. It was moist and
Tasteful. Now that was a cuisine.
Well I managed to get through the whole ordeal as I am still to tell the tail and aftermath.
This concludes a moment of bake
As how does my stomach feel in this journey, let’s just say “Give or Take”.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Behind closed lids, my eyes darted back and forth
As if trying to see something in the darkness,
As if the dreams were real, the thoughts, the tales
I knew from that point, sleep would not come easily
Suddenly the posters on my walls flew about,
Trying to confuse me, just like the furniture,
I rehearsed the words I would say, if suddenly, one day
And I tossed and turned, wide awake, eyes shut tight
Hiding my face from the furniture, and posters
And eventually I shakily tip toed to the kitchen
And gulped down two giant table spoons of pink liquid
As a last stitch effort to remind myself I was not being watched
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
I say, whoa now
You say, let’s go
We are ones for running
Our knees have the scars to prove it
Sometimes my fingers grasp for the rail but silly me
That’s not how falling works
We are humans
And humans do not carefully climb down scaffolding held-to with harnesses into love
That would take forever
And it’s boring to say
We fall into love
Crash to the ground together
Get up and laugh heartily
Spitting our broken teeth out as we do
Love is a collision we don’t all survive
But you and I are the Bear Grylls of the heart
And I would gladly drink my own **** to stay loved by you
I say, hey girl hey
You say, boy please
It’s sickening to watch I’m sure
But **** if you aren’t my Pepto-Bismol
And I ain’t your TUMS with Vitamin C
And I ain’t a fourth
And you ain’t a fifth
And we aren’t some sort of major lift
And
Ugh
I’m sorry that was dumb
I’m sorry
It’s just that song sometimes
It reminds me of that time I felt the corners of my lips curl up involuntarily watching you watch my favorite cover of it
And I get all worke
I say, I’m sorry
You say, I love you too
Falling isn’t always graceful
But having fell is always worth it
Grass stains and all
I don’t see futures
And you don’t make promises
But next to you is a place I’d like to wake up tomorrow
And the day after
And if you’re tenable to the idea the day after that as well
I am knee deep in love with you
This quick sand has hold of me
I’m struggling harder so I can sink faster
You say, closers dive in head first you *****
I say, I love you too
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
It's been 19 hours
and I think I've finally ****** away
the ***** I drank while giving you shots of water
so you wouldn't get sick
I thought maybe you were too drunk to notice
but I guess you weren't because you smiled
at me with a sincerity I can't come close to describing
It's been 19 hours
but the wrenching pain in my stomach
still hasn't gone away.
and in the airport today
I bought a bottle of water and some pepto bismol
and as I handed her my debit card,
the cashier asked me
if I was heading home
and I just
*******
choked
and I'm talking about the really ******* ugly kind of crying here
and the poor thing didn't know what she had done wrong but
she told me about her grandfather
who used to say that crying
is just your body's way
of getting rid of the toxins
and making itself stronger
Its been 17 hours since I last saw you
and I don't know how long it will be
before I see you again
but I really,
really hope that it isn't too long.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
An unnatural mass, eaten delicately
In a dim lit den,
Made me dazed
lightly breathing
Gripping the cancered drive thru receipt.
In my softest
Seeing
your balancing voice
by blue Gulf seas.
Great scientist
who taught me
that love is a fossil
And that darkness
is the absence of soft blue rings
turned statue
With the weakest of arms
Wrapped in wood-
And in the afternoon
descending
I wished my eyes
would clear
And that my stomach would hurt
so you could discreetly slip me
Pepto Bismol from your purse.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
esophageal flames.
shots of whiskey with a bleach chaser
on wednesday where the sky is clouded over
and the strays stick close to the watering hole.
pepto becomes water
to ***** the fires from within
while the alarm clock blinks 12:00
because I haven't set the time.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 4:13 AM UTC
Flatulent Franky
Flatulent Franky now he is a hoot
every other minute he has to toot
doesn't really matter where or when
he'd run and hide in the bushes or den
clouds of blue clouds of green
clouds of every color you have ever seen
his face of red just added to the chart
people would gather just to hear him ****
shock waves tidal waves and waves in the stands
people were standing clapping their hands
but then run away fast run like hell
trying to stay far ahead of the smell
some brought masks prepared for the gas
the odor emanating out of his ***
he tried Pepto Alkaseltzer and Pepcid AC
but all they did was make him have to ***
there just didn't seem to be any kind of fix
sure wasn't helpful in picking up chicks
if he lasted five minutes without a blowout
he'd do a small jig and let out a shout
poor old Franky haven't seem him in years
last I heard he had ruptured his ears
from the explosion last year it was on the news
at a gas station they're still searching for clues
Gomer LePoet ....
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
i heard my mom use the L word
when i was telling her
about my personally forbidden escapades
with the boy
my doctor
who i’ve let see
a framed picture of
an iota of my wounds
but still cannot bring myself to call
my boyfriend
as if the word is somehow poisoned
as i’ve convinced myself
in my loneliness
that the idea of that
feeling that most definitely isn’t love
was the stinging venom
burning through my veins
melting my skin to
waxy torrents coursing
from gaping wounds
butchered into my supple dermis
trying to escape my corporeal prison.
my body seizes at the utterance
of two syllables
because i am terrified that
the house of cards that
hold up that word on such an
unnatural pedestal
will crumble
evaporate into the
ether hanging around me
keeping me drunk on
that piquing ache churning
reaching deeper than
the bedrock of my stomach
that my incessant pepto can’t touch
a blowfly burrowing itself
into the mucosa of my abdominal cavity
that i know is filled with my
vital organs
but feels more like a vacuum.
he’s not my boyfriend
even though i tell him to turn over
in the darkness of our
shared slumber
so i can be the big spoon
and he can teach me how to breath
his respirations in his back
pressing my chest into
inhalation
just as my head on his chest
rises and falls
with him
my pectoral moon
pulling my tides
surrendering to the
inevitable turn and living
in that imperceptible moment
between inhalation and exhalation
a silence wherein
we are one
and i feel like his skin
could perhaps be mine.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
melatonin for when you just wanna sleep
midol for when your cramps are unbearable
molly when you wanna dance
ibuprofen for when your parents are yelling
acid for when you wanna trip
tums for when your heart burns
xanax when you're anxious
eye drops to make them believe you weren't crying
pepto-bismol for an upset stomach
**** for when you wanna chill
alcohol when you wanna forget
but little do you know
i don't need any of these drugs
because you make me feel
better
and higher
than all of them combined
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
The suspect said the thought bubbled up in her mind
and grew a silver, shimmery shell
It rolled down, pepto bismol freeway
snaking through her brain
It bounced down the neon back roads of her nervous system
She said it took its **** sweet time enjoying the view
It turned to mercury in her veins and slithered its way into her system
The suspect said she never saw it coming
Because “[my] sanity never said we was playing hide n’ seek”
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
hi.
i don't know my name,
i've forgotten her again.
she's a stranger in an alleyway.
she's reaching for me.
and her soft, fragile hands;
with rose fingernails,
wrap around my throat and squeeze.
she's the young girl i used to be.
thick, dark eyelashes and a petite frame.
she wears cherry flavored lip gloss.
her long, blonde hair drowns me.
i cut my way free from the yellow rope.
her locks lay at my feet in chunks.
she wails in despair,
i dig my scissors into her gut,
and she bleeds pepto pink blood.
hi.
i don't know my name,
i've killed her again.
a ghost rises from her corpse.
he's reaching for me.
and his rough, calloused hands;
with scraped knuckles,
strokes my hair and hugs me tight.
he resembles my late father,
dark hair and scruff on his chin.
exhausted, sea-colored eyes.
he washes the blood from my hands.
he wraps the girl in a garbage bag,
douses her in gasoline,
and sets fire to the plastic.
hi.
i don't know my name,
but you can call me miles.
i'm tired of hiding and pretending.
i'm reaching for you,
and my shaking, ***** hands;
with scars and bruises,
i ask you to listen and understand.
i am transgender male.
homemade haircuts,
and thrifted boys' clothes.
i will never be a son to my mother,
and my house will never be a home.
but you all are my family,
and your support will keep me warm.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
I have never believed in the idea of love-
it once tip-toed it's way into my heart
only to be thrown from my nervous system like acid reflux
the kind that pepto bismol won't cure.
Someone once tap-danced on my heart strings,
played that **** like a violin
so passionate about the way each and every movement
across the strings made me want to scream-
because they were playing the wrong things.
I knew who I was once-
maybe I was like 4 or 5 but I sure as **** was alive,
the days when trees had their own area codes
and the backyard was Narnia.
At some point between the "heartbreaks"
I lost it.
Then in you walked-
heart upon your sleeve like the latest fashion
and you kissed me.
I felt like I was a kid again-
the butterflies in my stomach began demanding refuge
it was a different kind of feeling..
I've always sort of had anxiety,
the crippling kind that makes you wanna throw up
but this, **** this was different.
I had never experienced good anxiety?
The kind you get after winning a big game,
or being in love..
I finally found it-
the love I never knew existed
but I still questioned it's authenticity
even as it painted pictures across my lips
and the butterflies whispering affirmation into my ears.
It's been a year-
and I'm trying to imagine the next one without you
because it seems to me that's what you want
But I can't seem to muster up the courage to be without you..
everything in this life has left me.
I hear the violin faintly playing in the background
and the tap dancers are coming closer now
the acid reflux has turned into regurgitation
and my heart doesn't know what to feel.
I've never had love for anyone
like the love I have for you-
I don't think it will ever go away.
I'm stepping on the edge, and it's begging me to jump
and usually the ground isn't too far
but without you, it's yards and yards away
and I don't think I can fly anymore..
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Oh, the quasi-related grace
Of saliva on the toes;
The reds, the blues, the greens
Of pregnancy.
Castration?!
We melt like mosquitoes
Across the heated causeway
In June;
Pepto-Bismarck?
I hate shocking pink.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
One pill, two pill,
red pill, blue pill.
Chalkier than Pepto Bismol,
smoother than Crown Royal.
The blender does not care.
It just spins its blades,
without considering the drink it makes.
I sip and wonder if
it will be lonely tomorrow.
Stay sharp, blender.
Don't ever get dull.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Death stared at me from the same recliner she always did.
Her veins wrapped around her legs like spider webs.
She poured pepper on her perogies and commentated for the TV,
“No whammy, no whammy, no whammy, Stop.”
I was too busy making plans on my phone.
“Isn’t this nice?”
Yes grandma
She used to clean her Catholic church on Saturdays.
I’d bring my toys she got me from McDonald's
and ran my race cars through the ramps filled with holy water.
She’d lay arms stretched before the alters and I’d follow suit,
but only in play. Our devotion was not the same.
“You make me so proud, my little Christian.”
Yes grandma
I’d spend nights for what must of been months,
because she lived in town where the parties were.
I was chasing tail, drugs and alcohol.
We’d both pretend she had no idea at all.
Our best conversation following a night of glassy eyes.
What we said I can’t recall.
Soon enough the pattern fell as I finished high school.
I moved away and walked new halls, an undergraduate.
It was in those halls my phone cried out and I soon after.
I drove new roads my eyes a flowing well.
We waited outside her room in vain.
I would not get see her that day.
I made a point to see her once she returned home.
She now sunk where her rear was once plump.
Her skin sagged relieved from the pressure.
Fluid dripped out her lungs the color of Pepto Bismol,
and they missed every second breath.
Yet, she was beaming, “Look how skinny I am.”
Yes grandma
I’d only see her once more, after another trip.
She slept in that same recliner as the TV played.
Wispy white hair, thin pressed lips and tired eyes.
Her head hung against her chest and I hid mine.
My sister asked if I’d like to wake her just to say hi.
I considered it, but thought better.
“No, I'll catch her next time.”
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 5:39 PM UTC
As the book opens feeling upset
Eventually it will become a bet
Eat at your own risk
But you need to think on this
There was a woman named Maria Forsure, who loved to cook
But for someone who didn’t know how to cook, it sure made people shook
It was how Maria would cook
But all you had to do was just look
That’s all it took
The fact Maria didn’t know her way around the oven
Don’t even mention the word bake in being a dozen
Once there was dinner at Maria’s house
The idea even scared a mouse
If the meat was duck
If it wasn’t cooked, it was just plucked
As the guest were talking in the living room
There was a certain boom
The oven door was open and the duck was on the ceiling
No one knew what actually happened
A change of plan in what to serve
It wouldn’t be Duck, as the guest didn’t deserve
A Hamburger to the rescue
Are you sure you want to follow that cue?
People often got sick when eating Maria’s food
It would be a nearby toilet of the stool
Pepto Bismol being a welcomed guest
Let’s be honest, it was a request
Maria’s meal certainly didn’t have appeal
It was simply a nightmare being for real.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
Guilt, it lives inside us all
Strives, drives, lives in us
Growing, tangling, vines to conspire
Sickening, ***** up your feeling
Pepto-Emotional, there's no such thing
Always something eating you,
Swallowing you whole, until that whole is cleared
Right or wrong?
There's just so many questions....
Conscious springs alive
Engulfing your soul, life, eternity
Darkness, ******* you in
Just search for the light,
The darkness will leave
Renewed, amend, forgive
Such a harsh emotion, so confusing
But it lives, breathes, sleeps
Within Y O U
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
ive got a bad case of earphone head
added to the laundry list of reasons to commit suicide
im not the outline i was born to be
josh says he's talking to voicemails
n i guess we all kinda are
my legs are melting, dripping from telephone babies
i don't want yr hours i want socks without holes in the toes
i keep forgetting to bring the tea that reminds me of her soft skin
i think she is an angel
either way ill end up like the bride ghost
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC