"tums" poems
How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind
Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind;
Whose prosy thoughts the joys of life exclude,
And wreck the solace of the poet's mood!
Young Zeno, practis'd in the Stoic's art,
Rejects the language of the glowing heart;
Dissolves sweet Nature to a mess of laws;
Condemns th' effect whilst looking for the cause;
Freezes poor Ovid in an iced review,
And sneers because his fables are untrue!
In search of hope the hopeful zealot goes,
But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!
Stay! Vandal sophist, whose deep lore would blast
The grateful legends of the storied past;
Whose tongue in censure flays th' embellish'd page,
And scorns the comforts of a dreary age:
Wouldst strip the foliage from the vital bough
Till all men grow as wisely dull as thou?
Happy the man whose fresh, untainted eye
Discerns a Pantheon in the spangled sky;
Finds sylphs and dryads in the waving trees,
And spies soft Notus in the southern breeze
For whom the stream a cheering carol sings,
While reedy music by the fountain rings;
To whom the waves a Nereid tale confide
Till friendly presence fills the rising tide.
Happy is he, who void of learning's woes,
Th' ethereal life of bodied Nature knows;
I scorn the sage that tells me it but seems,
And flout his gravity in sunlight dreams!
7.9k
I found a book of wisdom
And read it through and through
To learn about a way of life
Taught by a great Guru.
He said the way to inner peace
Was there for everyone—
Just make a list and finish
All those things you’ve left undone.
I searched my own house thoroughly
And made myself a list.
I finished off these undone things
As I fulfilled my quest:
A bottle of Jack Daniel’s,
Three of my favorite rums,
Some sherry and some cooking wine,
A box or two of tums,
A box of chocolate cherries—brandied to give a kick
I’m now a mellow fellow
But I’m also terribly sick!
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 2:50 AM UTC
Ballads R-U the
nourishment
Like the Bella baby
greens
Tossing your salad like
The artwork deviant
Like the myriad
The musical chairs
Messages unique piece
Playing the brain organs
The new road of legions
Cerebellum moving
Perky pinks the possum
We move into a certain era
Intense Opera breathing, pacing, dreaming
More feeding the balance of love needing
Musical digestion
Heart rate inside
your movement shows
affection
All themes like soap operas
The nervous system musical brain
Gets damaged like the Asylum
So emotional heartbeat got more
rhythm
Your hums needing tums
The Lifes crises
But not feeling
accountable the brains works
Every function ballads of love
Inside your heart diction
Like the ballad-making
Your best transformation
Orchestrated hands to lead
The musical brain
Love letters arrive on the train
So tranquil love
physical momentarily
Has a certain quality
like the ballad of love
mutiny
We find in life its a long sip
The brain wave long neck
Giraffe hot cafe
We feel everyone's tragedy
Living so high
in the (Castle) the step up
Not giving up the highness the
majesty the brain depressed
But such a parody foods for
the soul no control eating binge
You want to dodge out
But you're the musical genius
Magical brain fast and furious
Is tricky to remember you have
The talent
To be Lucky*
Fill it with love and gravity
He's the laughing stock
of the comics
Like the simple life
He's the built-in love
a ballad with such structure
The popular form of poetry
Musical notes a blend
of symmetry
Chariots of fire the key to love
Whats truly above all we need is love
He takes your breath away
Reading into the
"Britannica"
Archie comics and Veronica
Historical moments Cleopatra
The ballads of culture
Songs we remember
I love September the day I was born
Ballads and songs
"My Girl"
"Stop Look Listen to your heart"
"Love is all around"
You came to the right place
Peace and love, please
stick around we love you
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
Bluebell and Blossom were two little girls
One had straight hair the other curls
Their eyes were different shades of blue
And they both loved going to the zoo.
Bluebell liked the Panda bears with soft tummies
And lots of fur
Blossom's favourite was kangkeroo, she fed it leaves
And a chocolate chew.
They got on the red train and raced around
Faster and faster till they found
The cage with the Giraffes big and small
Sticking their heads through the open roof floor.
Back to the train then the pelican's van
Pink and prissy making a stand
Then the penguins joined in the fun
Lots of fishes for their tums.
Two little girls growing tired
Their feet wobbled, and heads bowed
Time for home with cake and cheese
And a drink of milk if you please.
For Evelyn and Florence
Love Grandma ***
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
Turberlence.
Turberlence.
What have you done.
You have my stomach wanting some tums.
I knew when I took this flight.
Somehow, I would end hating this plight.
Just as soon as the air plane lifted up.
I was holding the hand of the next customer.
Sweating and panicky with each height.
I'm still questioning myself taking this plight.
The stewardess, saying calm down.
It's going to be alright.
Didn't make it any easier of a ride.
Higher, higher the plane now was.
I'm now hoping to live to see my love ones.
In my mind.
I'm saying plane, plane please land down.
All it takes is for you to turn around.
A hope.
A prayer.
That might come true.
I'll never know.
Cause I passed out.
Least , I got to touch back down.
After being on higher grounds.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:06 AM UTC
I want my doctorate in English
And my Doc to be Mexican
Mixin' cans of paint as potion
Break fluorescent glowstick lotion
Orifice ******* quite ridiculously
Saying the OPQRS-for starting the next
Sentence
Spell out Cookie Crisp,
I poet with wands
Cookie wizards take funny jokes
For far too long
Black-si-can
Waxing can
Love me longer time
Cleaning off hair wisps
Off the top of the Tacoma Dome
Hell's riders are weak again
Break falls with Tylenols
And an entire tube of Tums
Wash it all down, a bottle of ***
Sickly suite suicide of all the ones
We deem young
Romeo and Juliet
The lady doth protest
Breaking pellets of Mydol
Off my hairy chest
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
Lottie lived in an old pebble-mashed cottage in the middle of nowhere, with a ***** muzzle tree in the garden. She always wore white glubbs on a Sunday, and going to mumble sales was her favourite pass-time.
All year round a lyre would smoulder in the gate, as the house was not connected to the lucidity grid, which Lottie considered the work of the davel. She liked to recite Shakespeare to her clogs but as she got older would mix up her worms and get her lettuces in the wrong order. At times I was the only one who could stand on her.
There was a lovely orchard out the back in which all kinds of baffles, tums, bears and cheeses grew. She made the best crum plumble you never tasted.
She loved her macaroni wireless, the old type powered by molluscs, although in latter times she accepted my gift of an up to date transittor with a built-in bat pack.
We would ***** away many an hour as she reminisced about her youth, when she had traveled far and wide in the grand old days of steam *****
Lottie kept all her marbles right up to the end in an old sweet jar, kindly leaving them to me when she passed. So now it's up to me to carry the mantelpiece. Dear old Lottie was unusual, but I liked her concentricity.
There's no one quite like Lottie
I'm sure you will agree
To some she didn't make much sense
But she always did to me
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:30 AM 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
Duchesse bought into the room upon a silver platter.
Cried a tiny tear.
The diners cried,
Oh my, what's the matter dear.
Duchesse replied through egg streaked tears.
They've gone and mashed my family.
My sister's stuck in boiling fat.
Made her crisp and crunchy.
My brother darling, my sweet brother.
The sent to the land of France.
Where as Dauphenoise.
He will entrance.
My cousin's she's not feeling good.
Chipped as choice.
To fill the tums of ravenous children.
Me.
I Overhead a conversation.
They said I was a tuba.
Thought I was destined for a band!
Then I realised from a tuber I'd be growing.
Not being played
I had to feed the land!
Good grief... I'm in a really stupid mood tonight! Livvi x
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Bottle of Tums on the end-table
surrounded by an imprisoned fan;
a lava lamp of antacids, cornered by dead precious-metal presidents.
Some greying ceramic **** matriarch
has a bulb sprouting out of her head,
radiating fat yellow on the olive corner, also onto the loveseat.
I say, I should read.
I say, People don't like
one another, anymore.
She says, I want to be a doctor.
Work with animals, she said,
Help pets and people.
Days go by like the shush
following blurs of traffic.
Am I aging too soon;
Am I important enough
to care.
Try to sell me some
Pyramid Scheme ****
the man my age does--
the kid--
He wants sixty-five for
off-brand perfume. No way.
How about, he looks around,
the manager's discount: twenty.
I say no. I'm sorry. I can't help you.
He says no. He's sorry. He can't help himself.
An American filmography:
A Thief in Brooklyn, 1997,
Dirk Diggler Productions,
A 20 y/o man breaks into
apartments, stealing pills
from the elder renters.
Ghost Before Sundown, 2003,
Marythrone Image,
A woman suspects she is
a ghost and tries to come to
terms with never succeeding
in life.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch
It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease
and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.
It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,
it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. ******
are not so **** particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!
A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may
I have my hit of calcium today?
Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 3:33 AM 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
I pushed aside a plastic box
of plastic-backed thumbtacks,
a half-roll of Scotch tape,
and a paperclipped stack
of edited verse to write
a letter to you.
It went something like this:
Dear Audrey,
No, that's too informal.
Just her first name would imply
our friendship didn't mean anything.
What about
Dear Mrs. Barber?
Way too formal. Like, am I going
to follow it with "can Billy come out
to play," or "I'm sorry I threw snowballs
at the side of your house," or "I apologize
for skipping your class to pop Tums
in the nurse's office."
Maybe
Dear Audrey Barber.
Something about the sounds
doesn't feel right. The Ds and Bs
hit the eardrum weird, like marsh-
mallows or caramel toffee.
They're just too thick.
Dear Audrey Sofield Barber,
There we go.
It's been a pleasure knowing you this past year
or so. In a way, I regret being there for the box-
moving and the computer troubleshooting,
but not for the sidewalk shoveling or book editing.
Or driving you to Elmira Corning Airport to pick
up your daughter. I'm an English writing tutor here—.
Never mind. How's your book doing? I'm sure it's a hit.
Enjoy Hawaii.
Sincerely,
C. S. Cizek (Christopher)
P. S. I plan to purchase "Wellsboro Roots" over the summer
and relive our conversations in Wellsboro over coffee
and cheap sugar.
Thank you for the honor.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
You like to say:
"I get baby guts
in the morning."
This means
you're not going to be drinking
for awhile.
I hold your hair
while you puke.
And you bring me Tums
and ginger ale,
as I hemorrhage
stomach acid
in the perfect acoustics
of porcelain.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
Modern Appetite
by Michael R. Burch
It grumbled low, insisting it would feast
on blood and flesh, etcetera, at least
three times a day. With soft lubricious grease
and pale salacious oils, it would ease
its way through life. Each day—an aperitif.
Each night—a frothy bromide, for relief.
It lived on TV fare, wore pinafores,
slurped sugar-coated gumballs, gobbled S’mores.
When gas ensued, it burped and farted. ’Course,
it thought aloud, my wife will leave me. ******
are not so **** particular. Divorce
is certainly a settlement, toujours!
A Tums a day will keep the shrink away,
recalcify old bones, keep gas at bay.
If Simon says, etcetera, Mother, may
I have my hit of calcium today?
Keywords/Tags: modern, appetite, supersize, me, indulgence, gluttony, bromide, seltzer, gas, Tums, calcium, quick, cure, tonic, overeating
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 1:55 AM UTC
dear sand,
today my fingernails are finally growing. nobody noticed, but i haven't bitten them in almost a week. i'm very proud of myself. last night the letters in my notebooks swam. maybe putting off writing is a good idea. the christmas lights are starting to go up on the apartment sills out of my window. mine have been up for two weeks, but it's exciting to think that the holidays have actually started. soon i'll get a tree, and breathe pine and lights every day.
love, waves.
dear sand,
i walked on my roof today. all the people scuttling on the ground gave me a headache, so i sat and swung my feet over the edge. you'd probably say it's too dangerous, but it feels alive to thump the building with my heels. my tea came in the mail. it smells really good, but i put it away until you come.
love, waves.
dear grains of rock,
my cat died. the last thing i said to her was get off the bed. i have only ever cried over you.
sincerely, wild portions of the ocean.
dear sand,
tums taste nice. they're all i've eaten today, so i thought of you. you'd feed me, wouldn't you? put a sandwich in my mouth with my hand. i poured my leftover tea into the street from the top of the building. black tea has zero calories, which is a pretty number. it almost hit a child skipping, but he dodged it and held onto his mum's hand more tightly. that made me sad, so i thought of you.
more love, waves.
dear sand,
the tea from yesterday isn't yours. the ribbon is tempting, but i shan't. shan't is another word i've learned from reading european fairy tales. especially that one about the sprite in a woman's body who falls in love with a knight. that one's pretty. i missed your voice today, more than usual. i'm tired without you, particles.
love, waves.
dear you,
be quiet.
Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
Dear John,
I got your letter,
it's sat here on
my breakfast table and this I swear,
when I am able
I will appoint a minister, to anoint the hearty souls who take such pleasure in taking polls,another one who we'll call John to join the lines on motorways,preferably on busy days.
A minister, I will need to feed the barons of the press some home produced (by my good wife)
bowls of steaming Eton mess.
I shall endeavour to be so clever and put forward bills to fill the grumbling tums of stumbling bums,if they exist at all.
and I won't fall into the trap of thinking this World's round not flat.
Yours
David.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:14 AM 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
Our ego can be a dangerous thing.
Now “ego” here simply means
That sense of “I” that gets in our way.
I wonder: is it in our genes?
(I’m not referring to the ego discussed
By the famous Austrian, Sigmund Freud;
All of that psychological jargon
Is something I intend to avoid.)
The ego that I am talking about
Is the one that loves to believe
That the WHOLE world REVOLVES around it,
And won’t give but loves to receive.
It’s the same ego that feeds our impatience
When many people simply don’t see
That their actions reflect the attitude,
"Don't you know it’s all about ME?”
Our ego, too, can fan our temper
When unexpected incidents upset us,
And when things go wrong we think
That somebody is out to get us.
Our friend the ego—a bit insecure—
Has us believing in retribution,
And any affront to our character demands
That getting even's our only solution.
The poor ego is devastated
When it feels major rejection;
And men’s egos are completely destroyed
When they can’t get an ********
If we can somehow let go of our ego
And try to take life as it comes,
We’ll encounter much less stress
And end up chewing on fewer Tums.
Or we'll find that conquering our ego
Will provide the consolation
Of truly appreciating our lives
With much less medication.
- by Bob B
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
You make my heart burn
But in the **** way, not the kind you get Tums for.
And I think about you a lot
And I think about why I think about you so much a lot too.
And I wonder what your favorite food is
Because someday I won't be a broke college kid and maybe
I could figure out to make an easy version of it for you.
You make my insides coil up like a Slinky when you look at me
Which is new for me and I think it's just because I like you a lot
But I like your effect on me a lot too.
I look at you too much and I hope you don't think it's weird
Because I just think that you're kind of fascinating
And I write about you too much and I hope you don't think I'm obsessive
Because I'm not.
You just hang out in my brain a lot.
Anyway
Write me back.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
I may not be happy.
But I can always chase down some Tums with a bottle of wine.
And I know I've changed a lot over the past year so you can stop pointing that out every God **** minute. I know you know I'm in love with you and I know you know how much I hate myself.
Four years ago I promised myself I would never smoke cigarettes, I remember it clearly.
Now look at me, smoking a pack a day when I can, re-lites when I can't.
On the other hand, I used to be happy.
On yet another hand, I used to be ignorant.
Ignorance is bliss.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
It's three in the morning
I have had the same stomach ache since ten o'clock last night
The pain is so intense I can't move
without feeling my insides turning upside down
Nothing is helping either
Tums are not working
Sprite is not working
A hot bath hasn't helped
I feel like I need to throw up
but that just causes me to have an anxiety attack
Now I am at the point where breathing is so painful
that I hold my breath
Feeling on the verge of tears
I break down and take some medication
Two hours later
Nothing
By now it feels like my intestines are knotted
through each of my ribs
I'm shaking
I'm sweating yet I'm cold
I break down again
I can't take it anymore
I smoke some ****
I light the joint
Take a hit
It hurts to inhale but I need some relief
I take two more hits
Within half an hour my stomach ache is gone
I feel like I am floating in a swimming pool
while wrapped up in a blanket
The shaking has stopped
I can breathe without feeling like something inside of me is tearing
I am so tired
It's amazing how much energy pain can take from you
It feels so good not to be in pain
I finish the joint
I lay on my bed
I allow myself to relax
I'm thirsty but too exhausted to get back up
I fall asleep with relief
hoping to God that this pain doesn't come back
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
I wasn't even a day old when I was first injected. Into my arm spilled the life I was bound to have. My mother watched my eyes fill with hope as my body filled with youth through this tube I grew to know all too well. I had come to love the sting through my veins and the taste of not tasting. The punctures in my skin felt like a fleece blanket but no one second guessed why they didn't scab over when it was no longer raining. And no one thought twice about the times I stomped on pins and needles hoping to feel the comfort of that old fleece blanket. All those fake coughs and stomach aches just to be wrapped up in something softer than tums and motrin. Do you know how it feels to be cold in the middle of June? To walk around with thick fabric draped over your shoulders like an invisible cloak, nobody saw the bruises. Well sometimes I get warm and I toss it off like I invented the throw blanket. But as soon as I reveal my purple skin, the surface begins to boil and I can feel myself evaporate. I can feel the division of my cells as each particle tries to escape. Piece by piece, my body is trying to break away, I need to get away. But my only safe haven is stuck in the syringe thats triggered my decay. Nirvana bullets shot through my veins and as I melted into a blank state, it told me I'd be okay. When I began to shake, it told me I'd be okay. When my body ached, it told me I'd be okay. When my skin started to wash away, it told me I would be okay.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Awaiting for your warm embrace,
Subtle kisses began the mating game,
As an innocent cuddle tums out to be something else.
Wild imaginations become real indulgence of temptations,
Hands exploring treasures that were kept hidden,
breathing deep with emotion.. two souls become one.
burning in the flame of love.
desire upon desire... i breathe your name...
you breathe mine..
Melting away in ecstasy,
We paint ourselves on the canvas of love
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC