"reflux" poems
sometimes i dont eat
the longest i've gone
is three weeks
i lay in bed ,my stomach in knots
cant stand up too quickly
dont wanna see spots
my body failed me again
bile came, hunger left
i cant quite remember when
water is my only friend
it soothes the hurt
acid reflux temporarily ends
water runs down my throat
when i move, it sloshes in my belly
sound like waves against a boat
heartburn comes at night
my body and brain are at war
im kept awake while they fight
headaches come back
it hurts to open my eyes
i know its from the calories i lack
when i can handle a taste other then bile
i eat and eat , i'm called a pork chop
i know its a joke so i hide the pain with a smile
if only they knew
how i hate my body
and the pants sizes i blew
but its something i keep to myself
no need to bother someone else
its not like am a fragile doll on a shelf
....or am I ?
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC
I pass back and read late at night
write poetry,
eat yogurt, things I had sworn off and return to with ever more vigor
I am caught in an orbit,
the gravitation is just enough to keep me spinning and too much
to let me go free, I fight it,
I fight it with stolen cigarettes and late nights
and tumbling over and over on a golf course
I fight it with drinks by myself and the purchase of ridiculous items
song lyrics composed on the spot and bold winks across the room
smiley faces and pickup lines to people I should not dare
a fantasy of LSD and the hope I'll see a dragon
so I can finally stop dreaming of them.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
looked in my mirror and saw you in the reflection
battered and ****** and deeply infected
by the demons who sought to poison you each night
and the venom i'd spit whenever we'd fight
i know you see me as a your ***** secret
but i’m not some drug that you can keep hidden
and i won't stand here, alone and awaiting
a love that is pure because i am not patient
but since you left, it only ever rains
and i stand outside drenched in shame
cause you used to kiss me extra hard on these days
you used to kiss me extra hard on these days
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
I pass back and read late at night
write poetry,
eat yogurt, things I had sworn off and return to with ever more vigor
I am caught in an orbit,
the gravitation is just enough to keep me spinning and too much
to let me go free, I fight it,
I fight it with stolen cigarettes and late nights
and tumbling over and over on a golf course
I fight it with drinks by myself and the purchase of ridiculous items
song lyrics composed on the spot and bold winks across the room
smiley faces and pickup lines to people I should not dare
a fantasy of LSD and the hope I'll see a dragon
so I can finally stop dreaming of them.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
What Dr. Lector devours with fava beans, inside rots. Too much Chianti?
Not likely. Likely, not enough
but there has been much else. Still,
no amounts warranting any shy example of overload. Mild splurges,
done in high style equal
nothing in comparison to toxic
baths taken in industrial grindstone
mortors. And the payback?
Walking papers and abdominal lump.
Poke it and choke on acid reflux. Pop
more pills to keep it down. Downers
prescribed on more downers.
Feeling down? Have another downer.
What else can we do? Your MRI's
and ultrasound, unsound, do not
come with flag from foreign invader,
claiming this new territory for king.
So, blame it on the offal.
Blame it all on the offal for not
having guts and glory
to fight off its own infection.
And eat your chicken livers.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
My left brain twists, and secanol comes flowing,
My eyes are square moon bases, nonagonal PVC behind them
Accounting for a dialing rhythm of split modular beeps,
Air-packed and dew drop sized, but only held by felt feelings.
They pipe in.
The Opener Screamers
Open a pal, a pulsing pill of pep talks and peptides,
And scream my way into tomorrow, a sleepy cheetah with anxious acid reflux.
My right brain does a sit up.
My left brain twists, and secanol comes flowing.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
The vulgarity of language underwhelms me.
Blankly, I stare into the faces of others.
What is language?
I look to you, them, and I see nothing.
I want to make tangible the fluidity and beauty of my mind.
No.
In the face of eternity I weep.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
I have developed a twitch in my body-brain.
It jerks at my organs and my violet thoughts.
I can control it to make it work,
Use it to dance on your rusted metal cogs.
It's like a spinning tree,
With interwinding pine cones of
Gold that hang from satin branches
He is perched up there again!
Tall and proud.
Not a bird like other animals.
Not an animal like other animals.
I know your most shameful thoughts,
Let me tease out the guilt and despair
Pull it out in worm string from your
Bloodied Guts,
Your gilded towers where you lock them away
Shame on you.
Bell chimes three times: Death call
But blue tears still cling like sharp thorns to brassy plumage
plumes plumes plumes
Frère Jaques, Frère Jaques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Slumber not next to the satin tree,
Layered under the shrieks of your old loves
Where they suffer timeless tortures that make your tongue
Taste like fish feed.
Poppy breathed inside his beak-jaw, mongrel!
White faeces stain the satin branches again.
Bloodied, bloodied, bloodied.
Pandora makes you bleed
White faeces.
Leech, your brain is a leech-vampire.
White faeces.
Quick, walk around the tree three times in clockwise motions,
Not like a tick-tock more like the flap of a wing.
Do not forget the tear ink,
Her tears were ink,
they were ink,
ink, ink, ink.
Sink into the poppy field!
Churn in your toxic nutrition
Choke on your reflux
Do not taste.
Do not see.
Do not smell.
Do not touch.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
always on the back of your tongue
and I’ve marked my name and days here in my prison
in the soft tissue around me
I’m sure it will scar, at least a little
my feet are burned from your reflux
and I have lost the strength to climb, to fight
you will not swallow me or spit me out
you just keep me here pressed up against the wall
your voice moves through me, shakes me
I catch a glimpse of the back of your lips
and the memories of when you kept me there, gently, between them
overwhelm me; I long to be back there
back before you gobbled me up
and my grief upon your breath is a breath of strength for me
I’m sure it is my last
I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
and there are two ways I can go
but I do not want to live in your head anymore
although you know I love the view from out your eyes
but it is far too lonely to live as just a thought
in the magnificent gallery that is your mind
and I am afraid that your heart will read ‘no vacancy’
or that I cannot afford the rent
or that I will grow weak inside the muscle
when it beats me down again
and I will no longer have the strength to climb back up
as I make the drop as the knife makes the plunge
down to your stomach
to be digested
alongside this morning’s coffee
and I fear the caffeine will stay in your system much longer than I will
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Her mouth sits agape,
Shallowly wafting stale, dank air.
Each breath drifts down to her lap,
Resting there in a sour cloud.
It reeks of dead fish and swamp mud.
And her middle is drowned in feelings of despair
Which seep sluggishly through the chambers of her heart.
The drunken reflux stains her linen black—
Black as the bottom of some lifeless lake.
She rises from her place at the edge of her bed
Wading through her sorrow—
Through her own viscous thoughts...
She does this
With what little spirit she can muster.
It is the last of what she once possessed.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
You would love me more
if you knew
the things I don't say
love me more
for the tears repressed/unseen
the thoughts that rise
yet fast sequestered,
virus quarantined,
lest infection spread
occasional
moan groan
an Ebola moon June
escapes,
inquiring ears overhear
and ask...
but quick deflected
with a
** hum,
nothing luv,
pushed back into
the hidey hole of opprobrium
and acid reflux
why why
suppress
if loving you better
the net net of it?
this is not the candy coated,
but the coal glow strife
that cannot be
quenched nor
solved with
anti-pain
meds
so put away, aside,
push back inside
you would
love me better
for the sharing,
but love me enough
for the be I be,
let my roughened edged pains,
be buried with my remains
a love unfettered
will place no obstacle
before you
from within me
love me for the man I am,
just the average man iam,
knowing that not knowing all,
not a deceit,
but a reprieve,
what I share,
strained and sleeved,
tho unrelieved,
it is relief
that burdens but,
only me
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
The uneven sentimental of adolescence,
as the spring leaf
with tender sawtooth;
Will you please,
let poetry take place of numbers
to reckon our memories?
When sunset bestows
that rearward glance
with golden sight;
melting my eyes
is the reflux
of our youth.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Scanning from the ground upward over my torso
Reveals an disturbing inventory of dysfunction
brachymetatarsia, in both feet!
Unequal leg length
Reconditioned knees
Atrophied right quadriceps
Hernia Scar
L4 & L5 Vertebrae way too chummy
Are these *******
Are these jowls?
Gum recession
Moderate gastro intestinal reflux
Three diopter challenge in both eyes
Dermatochelassis, left and right
Scintillating scotoma
Male pattern baldness – rear solar panel developing.
And yet when asked
I reply, Oh, I’m fine! I’m fine.
And you, and you, still love me.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
But I will **** you like the bible should be
****** not all soggy and misremembered
No, like a true gentleman, I’ll pull your
hair a little and I’ll whisper some things that
echo like inside mother’s womb
Don’t ask me to ‘cause I won’t call you back
Burp up some acid reflux
onto my chest and tell me it looks like
ectoplasm, let’s get those demons out of you
bring out the Ouija board and let’s
smash it, I know they’d just hate that
This isn’t clairvoyance, it’s black metal
dance music and you’re stripping for me like
I am your father or some other guy with
too many tongues and I know one day
I’m gonna write way too many poems about
Your youth is growing out of you but it’s not
a petunia, it’s more like that alien in the movie
Alien and it’s telling me in the wrong language
fdjsodsfaokdncvmjklclkmewa
so I take it as a mixed signal
so I take it as a yes
I have made lovers feel like they’re a bailout
but tonight, darling I’m gonna make you feel
some astral projection and you won’t see God but
you’ll see how many prophecies my sheets have made
up
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
While on this voyage
keep your windows clean because
if you break down
you can still enjoy the view
as the world goes by because
about the time you learn
to make the most of life
most of it is gone but age
is a matter of the mind
- if you don't mind,
it doesn't matter.
realize that anyone
can get old,
all you have to do
is live long enough
because it takes a long time
to become old.
Learn that it is not about
getting a chance but it is about
taking a chance and understand
that we are strong
because we are weak
and we are beautiful
because we have flaws
and we are fearless
because we have been afraid
and wise because we have
been foolish.
As the world goes by
I am left with coils of memory
as the time flies whether
we are having fun or not
but at least I have learned
to know the difference between
a good love and a bad love
and that is simple
- a good love never ends
and in the end love is the only thing
we are left with after all
is said and done.
I have gone from long hair
to longing for hair
and from acid rock
to acid reflux and from
rocking out with the Rolling Stones
to being worried about
having kidney stones
but I still rock and roll
and will till I die and
that is no lie.
I don't know when or how
it happened and
I never saw it coming going
from tight bulging muscles
and a flat stomach and
a full head of brown hair
now replaced with folds
and salt and pepper thined out hair
along with a gray beard
and bones that need care
and fall I don't dare.
Once upon a time
eyes like an eagle able to
pick off a VC at 1200 yards
with one shot and one ****
in a far away war time won't forget
in that far away place
so long ago but now
my focus is slow
and I wish I didn't know now
what I didn't know then.
If only I could stop my mind
but a man is not old
as long as he is seeking something
and growing old is nothing
more than a bad habit
which a busy man has
no time to form.
Know that you are young
at any age if we are still planning
for a tomorrow and as the world
flies by we have to realize
that it is better to be hated
for what you are
than to be loved
for what you are not
and remember that you were
born an original so
don't die a copy. Jon York 2013
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
__I__
alone and happy on the 14th
i rise to the occasion; as it's
beautiful rose
__II__
roses that are red, and violence not so
new. sugar lips of a nightmarish diabetic kiss,
but what stops a love sick fool
..i sit back, and watch the view
__III__
a heart made of steel
someone stole your heart easily, cos you're
leaving the windows of your eyes so open;
there's going be a lot of robberies this
Valentine's day
__IV__
here's to a valentine red:
red as the flags of one you
should avoid with caution
red as the daring run of emotions
being chased by a bull
red as the tomato of a terrible first
kiss, causing acid reflux
red as the overdrawing of your account
all to prove you value someone for a day
__V__
"would you be my Valentine,"
he asked her on his knees
A chuckle she gave, "tis these only
few times I have a man on his knees,
afterwards spoiling me with dinner and
eating out"
_wink, wink._
Feb 10, 2023
Feb 10, 2023 at 3:58 PM UTC
Stomach ulcers wait for me
acid reflux looms
Bloated Belly
Backend bother
Doctors waiting rooms.
And still I wolf down whiskey
and guzzle gassy stout
and wake at dawn
a can in hand
in the middle of a roundabout.
For whats the point of living
if living is a chore
some love life without drinking
I find I enjoy it more.
Apr 6, 2011
Apr 6, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
Thu. Aug 11 2022
7:16 AM
~ for Julia and Joanne~
good neighbors
<>
a renewable habit apparently, again, a first poem of the day
(FPOTD), comes early, this old practice, me-bedded and mugged, with music ear installed drowning the noises of television blah,
iPad rests on left leg, left hand pointer finger ejects capsules
of letters, charmed into existence by the Barber adagio.
the Weather Channel forecasts morning-rain and my window
to trample and shuffle this deteriorating body rapid closes,
and the sun, weak, in concession speech, begs pardon, throws
off a few miscellaneous rays by way of apology, fooling no one,
except for the hopeful, itinerant poets, & the bunnies-neath-the deck.
know now you understand the poems entitlement, as is my wont,
you’ve been invited inside, sharing eyes and senses, you journey
today from a vantage no one else possesses, just you and me. Later,
we will drive to the Parrish Museum, studying modern painters,
each will inquire, a poem for me please, I nod sure, perhaps?
promise little, deliver less, is this your best? A travelogue of the
mundane, the little things, that do not stir your heart, smile tears,
and make you think wish I was there, or this, being
just too-me-boring?
The brain growls, no one making them read this perfunctoriness,
nonetheless, you apologize, pardon the no-angst trivia of daily life.
like the acid reflux bile, swallowed and returned to whence it came.
before it invades, tarnishes the peace of our surroundings and
the pleasure of your company, as I read your writings,
*worth so much,
filled with so much angry pain,
I want to easy-soften the everything,
if this missive, takes you-nearer, to the calmer~closer,
this poem, you transform it from perfunctory, to just, simply*
perfect.
8:18 AM
Shelter Island
Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 8:37 AM UTC
welcome to ana heaven
where people are collar bones
and thigh gaps are God
we are fragile, like petals
the only simile that saves me
from the harsh reality
i don’t look at you, i look through you
x-ray vision desecrates you
i don’t see you as human
i see bones
you are not thin yet, child
come with me, and it’ll be worth your while
or you collapse into the clouds
and god forbid, you fall back to Earth
stay in play land
where we live off tea and acid reflux
where we spit up food
and giggle like babies
at the sight of our malnourished bodies
give me ana heaven, sick skin
give me laxatives, stick thin
or i have nothing at all.
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
When we left, the anger was courageous
Tears shrugged off their ducts and ran a river
And so....it was an adopted day. Lopsided
Out of kilter, hard boiled, the reflux swallowed
Spite spat out its tabloid journal and spanked me
A chancer on a long haul flight of emotion. A broken limb
A ball of 'Nastiness' bit into my flesh. Stamping dishonesty
A clear winter blue sky......guarding its frosty secret
The guns shot their bullets, cracking the air between us
Hitting the eye of the bull. The red rag waved at a tangent
Calling in all favours. Bystanders gorged. Rubber necked
As your heart parted company with your soul and bounced
When you undid the latch, the safety catch broke and hit the floor
Purged. Vented. Filling the air with blemishes. The stars fell
Short of their place in the universe; befriended and hung out
With blackened bark as debris hit. Now minus will only equal minus
.......equal minus
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
She's like acid reflux
Bubbling in the balled up pit of my stomach
Pangs of searing acidic bile rising in my throat
I have to swallow to keep it all down
The words I would ***** in her face if I could
The kind of noxious fluid immune to my control
I'd love to see her dripping with my complaint
Stained by her own disdain
Regurgitated onto her own front smock
An adage to her own hysterical hypocrisy
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
Pain retribution for agonized youth
somber, a parade with full spread photo shoot,
death narrowly averted, hard to digest...
reflux of memories
revisiting chest,
hardened by rope and rod,
how do I erase this place?
Anxiety still lurks about,
waiting to push up pain;
it is a deep well,
I drill holes in the bucket
every day,
and yet I still get a taste.
http://www.robross.ca
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 9:35 PM UTC
A curse of a bad deed,
Stabbing constantly at my soul,
Running until it's out of breath,
It's acid reflux, in control.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
L'un toujours vit la vie en rose,
Jeunesse qui n'en finit plus,
Seconde enfance moins morose,
Ni vœux, ni regrets superflus.
Ignorant tout flux et reflux,
Ce sage pour qui rien ne bouge
Règne instinctif : tel un phallus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
L'autre ratiocine et glose
Sur des modes irrésolus,
Soupesant, pesant chaque chose
De mains gourdes aux lourds calus.
Lui faudrait du temps tant et plus
Pour se risquer hors de son bouge.
Le monde est gris à ce reclus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
Lui, cet autre, alentour il ose
Jeter des regards bien voulus,
Mais, sur quoi que son œil se pose,
Il s'exaspère où tu te plus,
Œil des philanthropes joufflus ;
Tout lui semble noir, vierge ou gouge,
Les hommes, vins bus, livres lus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
Envoi
Prince et princesse, allez, élus,
En triomphe par la route où je
Trime d'ornières en talus.
Mais moi, je vois la vie en rouge.
1.1k
Lorsque brusquement et soudainement le jour
Devenait la nuit la plus obscure, compatriotes et amis
On ne savait pas si on devait courir en se disant bonjour
Adieu ou au revoir. La terre tremblait jusqu'à l'infini
Sans halte, comme des trains nocturnes venant de plusieurs
Directions. L'heure était vitale. On cherchait la lueur
D'un espoir pour s'échapper de l'embrouillamini surnaturel
Où des milliers de vies ont été disparues. Les biens matériels
Ne sont pas importants, on se voit partir tel qu'on est
Venu. On doit reconnaitre que l'argent est futile et la paix
Est la chose la plus précieuse qu'on nécessite. Le passé
C'est là que réside un bonheur furtif, éphémère et volatil
C'est comme la fin d'un monde. Oh! Chaque être est utile.
La faille a ouvert sa grande gueule pour engloutir: bébés
Adultes, chiens, chats, maisons, édifices et routes en entier
C'est l'apocalypse, c'est la fin pour des milliers de citoyens
Qui ont disparu comme de la fumée dans les nuages ensorcelés
Les trains étaient invisibles mais les gens montaient, les mains
En l'air, dans des véhicules sans portes et ni pneus. Les pieds
Lourds pesaient dix fois plus qu'un éléphant. On partait vers des
Destinations inconnues. Les cris abasourdis et muets étaient
Partout. La Terre tremblait. Elle a tremblé comme si elle voulait
S'engloutir dans la mer où le flux et le reflux s'atterrissaient
À la jupe du rideau où la fumée et la nébulosité se rencontraient
Heureux sont ceux qui ont été sauvés et qui vivent en paix
Le séisme est un avatar infernal qui apporte peines et regrets
Haiti, notre pays a perdu des gens charmants, des petits enfants chéris
A cause de l'égoïsme des dirigeants safres imbibés dans l'hypocrisie
On ne cesse de dire à haute voix: pauvre Haiti. On ne cesse de pleurer
En se demandant quand les larmes cesseront de sombrer et d'exsuder.
Copyright© 10 Janvier 2021, Hébert Logerie, Tous Droits Réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 10:29 PM UTC