"ulcer" poems
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
Eat me before I eat you
Staring with **** eyes
I'll be yer mantis
(Who's the *****
Swallow me whole
Devour me alive
Loving it more
Than all the whips of Caesar
Regurgitated hate like
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
Or pigs feeding on blood and bones
At the trough
Boring my way out thru
Yer ****** ulcer guts
You shouldn't drink like a fish
If you aren't at sea
Weakening your resolve
With surly drunk parasitic me
This is how we show
Our extensive toxic love sensibility
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Chicken and beef
More beef
More Chicken
Potatoes fried in vats of fat, A cow's
heart in a wine reduction;
Bacon strips,
bacon strips,
bacon strips,
bacon strips.
"Ulcer in the pit...
...never neglect to salt"
It hurts again.
—Doesn't it always?
Jack and Advil,
A half-hearted suggestion.
"You don't really know unless you try?":
Burn a hole, Bleed it out
Pain is water-soluble, right?
I tried it once. I've told that story
Brought down in one day by two pots of chili
9.26.11
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:52 AM UTC
Let's get one thing clear: When people say "You're all I've ever wanted", they're lying.
I want many things. I want a pizza. I want to get an A for a paper I hardly studied for. I want a room with wooden floors. I want a house facing the sea. I want to walk into Forever 21 and take home anything I like. I want to travel around the world. I want to be better at sports. I want my ulcer gone immediately. I want longer eyelashes. I want to finish an entire season of a tv show without anyone bothering me. I want more followers on Twitter. I want to be friends with my favorite Youtuber. I want a pair of twin boys. I want Hogwarts to be real. I want to be good at archery like Katniss-freaking-Everdeen, cause it's so ******* cool. I want a new phone. I want to sleep late watching chick flicks without having to worry about sleep deprivation. I want three hamsters. I want superpowers. I want to fly.
But you see, here's the catch: What I want most, is you.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
The corner of the table in the garden,
it has been given to an upright man;
Einstein's town heated lion dance lights leather soccer,
Peter Daniel was enough to bring soil to face toward
the early women like a fur coat, the abstract
is contained in the embrace of the shadows of prostitutes;
fame went out concerning the impact of the fire
was seen at, as much as for the other party;
thou hast given to look to the waves to move out
of another man's; Seemed to be in Latin and known
as the state, and how it takes to read a new, hot sweat-BRAINED,
I am standing in the midst of the country,
where there is truth in these people dwelt; that,
either through the skin he was taken away;
a teenager in the garments of the goddess
is to start near the ulcer in the knees & in the return
of his book on the state of beatitude, football is right
for the chief men of the city; CIA,
dying, leave there a part of the lady in width,
pure, thin, Oh, the prince of the valley,
the shame of the course; in the middle
of the night I will take away the barriers
of the mind contrary to the spirit of the place
of the held tongue, enlarged by the Asian shore
of the clear deep knowledge impedes
to all these investors have already thirty-eve
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance
we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies
fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents
deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown
by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy
so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream
harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
cervical cancer
ovarian cyst
open your mouth
here's my fist
stomach ulcer
an inflammation disease
got pneumonia
from just a sneeze
inflamed pelvis
stomach cancer
shut the **** up
you don't know the answer
heart attack
blood clots
watch me as
my insides rot
my brain thinks
I've had every disease
but its funny
i've never had any of these
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
City slickers born to tumble
will never make your mountain rumble,
take me to the parts that matter
in amongst the titter tatter
the coffee table ilks and dramas
cotton caftans and silk pyjamas
humming cars that cough and splutter
silver coins lost in the gutter
tabloid men in sharp pressed suits
trample down the fallen fruits
nothing sacred in this old town
except a peptic ulcer and a furrowed frown.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
You don't even know
what a love poem is.
I'll show you,
here and now,
a love poem
is a rose
and a rock,
a love poem
is a robbery,
a love poem
is dropping Neruda to your girl
and thinking about the next caper
when she's not there,
a love poem
is thinking your girl
is yours
that she's a girl
in the first place,
a love poem
is a lie
just like
me saying I'd never leave
was a lie,
a love poem
is remorse,
a love poem
is hatred
of both the inside
and the outside,
a love poem
is me seeing through you
right to your heartbeat
and punching
you
as you sit exposed,
a love poem
is **** in an *******
all of me
made to hurt you,
a love poem
is ****
and the ensuing
yeast infection.
A love poem
is like trying to put a band-aid
on an ulcer,
a love poem
is a lot like love,
if love was watching cartoons
on ****
and thought
it saw the Holy Trinity
as Ed, Edd, and Eddy.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
Home sweet home -
pendulum clock
ticking and tocking
quietly on;
while the ulcer
and heart attack
haste
of impending businesses
sets forth.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 5:32 AM UTC
My stomach hasn't settled
Since that one day
Butterflies and knots
Riddling my stomach into decay
Like a virus
Eating from the inside out
Always hungry
Never full
Always eating
What's inside of me
Nothing hushes my aching stomach
What's wrong?
Maybe an ulcer
I guess it could be cancer
Of the stomach
Or liver
Maybe even the pancreas
It could even be my heart
But for now I'll just call them butterflies
Eating out my gut.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Nah you were a corpse with a noose around your neck with just a blip of a heart beat on an EKG made of trees laying to rest.
She's a scared little girl and the only way she knows how to survive is off the blood and life of other people.
So I tease and tease the needle injecting, inspecting the vein liquid.
Laying up in that bed for hours with your kidneys being your friends and your head ripping your chest from your intercostals tossing your throat out your teeth through the grate lain cross your open gape
A chamber we both never wanted you lain.
Gas chambering hospital of mucus and babies puking their dead guts out.
Septic ulcer, septic shock, sepsemia.
All the bacteria love you like your their mother inlaws.
And finally you set us free from mine
That caniving, ruthless wretch watched you in the bed.
Floated above ours watching us both.
Escaped we did and finally we won't go back.
Anorexic we starve ourselves now of sharing carbon and gravitating space pits.
The blankets still make dips where we lay but they aren't the same blanket, the threads aren't long enough to cross and make up the same fabric between 100 miles so that an immediate affect between the atoms can be felt between us.
My babies still kicking though.
That's safe.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Margaret Murray, the one with the glasses.
The psychic, the mystic, her tarot card classes.
Told Sheila her mangoes were ready to eat.
Told Mary her cousin'd be back on his feet.
Beverley Spence was a sceptic, tough cookie.
In seeing her fortune snapped up by the ******
Decided to tell her her ulcer would heal.
It's better than sharing with friends what was real.
Patty was eager to hear from her mother.
Jessie bereft at the loss of her brother.
Beatrice needed the skills of a healer.
For Margaret saw death and she would not reveal her -
True destiny seen in the cards at the clubby.
Preventing a scene with her hard drinking hubby.
£20 fortunes, no refunds, no worries.
There's no better tarot than Margaret Murray's.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
A few titles
A few songs
A few artists
Combine
for compound fractures
of my consciousness
For, lo, the ulcer just by nourishing
Grows to more life with deep inveteracy,
And day by day the fury swells aflame,
And the woe waxes heavier day by day—
Unless thou dost destroy even by new blows
The former wounds of love, and curest them
While yet they're fresh, by wandering freely round
After the freely-wandering Venus, or
Canst lead elsewhere the tumults of thy mind.
Yes, a swollen skin
fragmented bone
I walk
and flee her capture.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
'LOVE IS BLIND'?
'Love is blind'?
what nonsense!
then how come we have
'love at first sight'?
Shakespeare in one sentence
had hoodwinked us since 1616
true, he wrote great drama and poetry
but we must note
he didn't study medicine
nor opthalmology
and mind you
we are living in the 21st century
with all the science and technology
surely it would be the greatest folly
to just quote the bard's cliche blindly
the eyes have it
ask the ophthalmologist
without the eyes
the lover would not see
beauty
and as a corollary
how could you love somebody
if in the first instance
you were blind id est--you couldn't see!
careful, so careful we must all be
to differentiate between reality
and the ranting of silly poetry
if this myth were to perpetuate nilly-willy
mankind would look really silly
that would look good not even to the slightest degree
and one more thing
please bear with me
and this is the bard's secret history
he had chancre--venereal ulcer
for which he received treatment
could he have written 'Love is blind'
being affected by that odious malady?
London's brothels he did visit frequently
when he was away from Stratford-upon-Avon
he drank a lot too--there is ample evidence
he also had anasarca (oh mercy!)
result of mercury-related membranous nephropathy
( we shall not defile him further-
but his alopecia was due to treatment of mercury
for his syphilis---what a medical litany!)
in conclusion
we could somehow see
that England's greatest writer
was not as bright as he had been taken to be.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
No, I'm not here to tell you that you're weak.
I'm not going to turn your weaknesses against you.
Just to say you need a God to make you strong.
God transforms you.
I can't tell you that the
alcohol
drugs
***
and cursing
are bad
and that
maybe
you should consider
a God who can
change it.
I'm not going to lure you in by your own demons
Just to make you believe
But let me ask you this,
Do you honestly believe that God can't use you?
Noah was a drunk
Abrahm was "too old"
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses stuttered
Gideon was afraid
Rahab was a **********
Jeremiah and Timothy were "too young"
David had an affair and murdered
Isaiah preached the gospel naked
Elijah was suicidal
Naomi was a widow
Job lost everything
Peter denied Christ
All of Jesus' disciples fell asleep during prayer
Martha worried
The samaritan woman divorced
Paul was "too religious"
Timothy had an ulcer
And Lazarus?
Oh, he was dead!
But Christ used each and every one of the characters of the Bible to bring Glory to His name!
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
I heard rumors and stories
but I thought that's all they were
I heard it from her
My stomach is in my feet
I can't breathe
My hands won't stop shaking
I feel sick
I swear someone must have socked me in the gut
Pouring salt on old wounds
On top of nostalgia of you
It's all so ridiculous
I'm going to give myself an ulcer
Merry Christmas
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
I cannot do Maths,
I've tried and tried and tried,
But every time I get the answer wrong,
It just keeps wounding my pride.
I have an ulcer on my lip,
That is keeping me from comfort eating,
So when a sum doesn't add up,
I can feel confusion fleeting.
You frown at me in bewilderment,
"But what on earth do you mean?"
"This is the most simple sum that I have ever seen!"
Alright! You ignorant ***** I don't understand Maths!
And am not going to put up with that patronizing sort of crap!
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 4:52 PM UTC
This is one of Barry Hodges "Memories" poems.
**O how I recall with sadness in my poor forsaken heart
How I lost my fat-arsed sister (though she was a silly ****
We had just enjoyed a meal on the esplanade at Taormina
(soup, spaghetti alla vongole followed by some tasty semolina)
So we went for a digestive walk through the Sicilian hills
Not realising we were in for some awful shocks and spills.
There came a mighty roar and a dreadful smell of sulphur
(even worse than flatulence or a burp caused by little Maria's peptic ulcer)
Oh dear, oh dear, Mount Etna had just violently erupted
With lava bursting out, from the bowels of earth rudely eructed,
And with a sickening splodge a fiery lump landed on the hapless bird
Causing her to die forthwith, screaming louder than I'd ever heard.
God in his mysterious ways is supposed to show us his mighty wonders
But occasionally I do believe he quite clearly makes some ******* blunders;
And I really think it's quite unfair to cause a volcano to blow up
Especially since it looked a nice mountain for bold climbers to go up;
But it's an ill wind that blows no one any good has always been my motto
So I emptied Maria's scorched purse, went to a bar and got quite blotto.**
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
I've been drunk for days.
Last year we were to be married -
this year I have a bleeding ulcer
& I cry every morning,
medicated with scotch.
Your name is a meadow.
Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 12:09 PM UTC
sell you a little death, puts one more count on my head
crumbling under climbing numbers,
smothered by heavier, uglier guilt
bury me, the failure, in **** please **** where i'm dead
this is all i am, the life i "built", let no flower grow
ingesting again and it's conquering my head
crumbling under climbing numbers,
smothered by heavier, uglier guilt
too jealous to reach back out, too selfish not to
take you with me, i refuse to be alone in my hold
"if i can't have it, then no one will"
but self hatred never gave anyone the right to ****
no matter whether they're mine, these hands on my shoulders
will not let go
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
...centipedes underneath big rocks in the dirt.
...worms on the pavement in the rain.
...rotting roadkill you drove over today.
...maggots writhing inside of dead brains.
...rainbows in great puddles of oil.
...fakest person you'll ever ******* meet.
...weeds and crabgrass polluting the soil.
...reason I hate humanity.
...nightmares preventing your sleep.
...dreams making your knees weak.
...scab you can't stop picking.
...ulcer you can't stop licking.
...spider in the bathroom sink.
...shakes you get if you don't drink.
...doubt whispering inside your mind.
...lies you've been fed all your life.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
I have an ulcer.
An ulcer is bad, did you know?
Do you know anything?
I feel the ***** every night. My organs bubble with unease, anxiety scratching at my stomach walls, digestion is a luxury.
You are a luxury.
The price is climbing, you tax and you tax; you know you love a chase
But I have an ulcer.
You can’t chase a ******* thing with an ulcer.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
maybe he left his wedding ring in your **** by accident
that night when you told me
you wanted me to **** you
wearing his sordid black suit but
it was about four sizes too big and his
heart was four rooms too small.
i forget that the anthropoid chassis
possessed no ****** limitations.
and yet you were there,
wailing out cherries and
casuistry and swollen
macabre in absinthian
vinegar, wearing the dress
that i hate.
you have weak wrists,
you bruise by blue tuesdays.
--
maybe i left my gun in your **** by accident
that night when you told me
only love and explosives
got you off. i of course, went
for the least dangerous.
you forget that the anthropoid intellect
possessed no sadistic co-existence.
i'm just an ulcer when i am
inside you. you scratch me raw
and you make me
take off that face
that you hate.
my poetry lingers tight-lipped in taciturnity,
keeping you wet on your deathbed.
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 4:49 AM UTC