Best Abdominal Poems
Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Form:
New year, new goal.
Laughter,
a goal that provides
many benefits.
A wellness challenge.
It makes the brain
swim in dopamine.
Is mood-lifting
and removes stress.
Increases metabolism,
and burns my calorie consumption
(I love chocolate)
Stronger abdominal muscles
and a well-shaped butt
The face becomes softer
- highlights the glow in the skin
All this without plastic surgery
- Goal's outcome
- a win-win situation.
When I was 12 weeks pregnant
my husband and I found out news
News that would change our lives
Shake our entire foundation.
My first son
my loved
Wanted
Long-waited for child
had local exstrophy
During what we thought was a routine checkup
We found out that his lower abdominal wall had not formed correctly
He had a mass as big as his head between his little legs
In the ultrasound
I could barely see his legs because of it
His tiny feet were already clubbed
His spinal cord was tethered
The doctor told us he would never walk or have a functioning bladder
A week later
The situation worsened
We found out his kidneys weren’t working
His lungs wouldn’t develop
After eagerly preparing for our first son
My husband and I
Found out he would die by suffocation upon delivery
If he survived that long
Faced with horrible and difficult odds
My husband and I did what we knew
What was best for our son
Our family
We made the decision to end the pregnancy through abortion
My husband and I loved our first son and wanted him dearly
We named him Thomas
I will forever mourn him
The decision to have an abortion challenged my beliefs around life
My faith
But I have never for a second doubted
This was the right thing to do for myself
My family
Especially Thomas
06122020
~*~
==========================
sultry aestival zephyr's puffing
as elated lilt's playing - I'm huffing
abdominal heftiness
yeah! it exploded! SUCCESS!
OOOPS!!! earphones plugged in ears . . . they're laughing.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Control of breathing is quite complex
And if you really check the specs
You find all kinds of balances and checks
Within the medulla, cells playing their role
The DRG, inspirational control
Using cyclic neurons for their goal.
Actions potentials from the DRG
These cells are cyclic and fire intermittently.
Then muscle contract to the best of their ability.
To the external intercostals and diaphragm they talk
And these muscles, at the neurons’ stalk
Follow orders and they do not balk.
And when they stop, the muscles relax.
Air is forced out as muscle slacks.
Volume decreases and Boyle’s Law acts.
So breathing in costs ATP
That means the use of energy
But calm expiration? It’s just free.
But when you need to force air out
Or at something, really shout
The VRG is what it’s all about.
It talks to abdominal muscles as well
As internal intercostals to make pressure swell
And air in the lungs can no longer dwell.
The Apneustic center in the pons is a source
Of a center dealing with force
Of an inspiration’s course.
The pneumotaxic center deals with duration
And both centers talk to each medullary station
And help regulate breathing condition.
The limbic system has some sway
In breathing fast or slow at bay
More than most realize, an important say.
And the hypothalamus, always of import
With its influence never falls short
In aiding ventilation, it lends its support.
For other than limbic, it deals with fever
When it tips the temperature lever
And makes ventilation a greater achiever.
Lastly there’s the cortex of the brain,
Whose job most think, is always to reign.
But when it comes to breathing, it is quite plain.
You can’t stop breathing by your will.
The lower centers always still
Make breathing a reflex, cortex input almost nil.
And just what drives this reflex to ventilate?
From where does the need originate?
From the chemoreceptors, it does emanate.
Receptors monitoring proton concentration.
Then messages sent without cessation
To the brainstem for increasing ventilation.
And hydrogen ions, where are they from?
Carbon dioxide and water, voila, they come.
The magic formula, carbonic acid does succumb.
In A Box
BY MALIK BAKER
Puberty, relationships, identity versus roll confusion
As clear as a newly married couple with a hangover
Too many faces—even just one
Sweaty, shaky, within me a rapid stampede
In the midst of a haze raid
Like trash, garbage thrown out of sight.
Residing at the center of the cranium
Hypothetical criticism holding me captive.
Anxiety leading to payback by abdominal torture.
Dejection, second-rated, obscured
BRAINSTORM, cause I either say nothing or I’m just not with it.
More like imaginary . . . I have no real friends.
Either stood up or no invitation
Are they playing the Joker and Two-Face?
Dreamscape, the nostalgia of my childhood days . . .
Might as well throw me in solitary confinement.
Four walls and the view of life from inside
Dissecting the past and the future
Like The Thinker, contemplating . . . he goes nowhere.
This . . . is the good life.
First time happenings visually repeat.
Sensational like the nineties
Plagued by the mind of Mr. Perfect
Who am I? Certainly not the almighty
Seven years of build-up to this day.
There is no such thing as magic overnight,
But the road to recovery is here.
Trials and tribulations dismantled.
The burden has been lifted.
Don’t look back, promising change is coming . . .
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
If I told you I nearly fainted today
trying to make my pussy taste sweet for you,
(I'm allergic to pineapple,
by the way)
and had to toss back a glassfull of baking soda
water to quiet the abdominal creature
spitting y o u are the rosebud
my dew longs to rest upon,
would you think I was crazy?
Funny, self,
she does not know
how aching things rejoice in spillage,
fractures, she says
there is stillness in God.
See Jane pump out love poems
for a lioness gazing at the sun.
See Jane's words fly off with the cranes.
Now,
there is only us,
and the spring.
Obstructing the Time's line-of-sight recoiling abruptly,
neither a fallen hand-held folder nor a glance stolen away,
counterfeiting emotional disturbance but sounds to mastery,
executive officers waiting for the day-to-day updated reports.
Unloading Time's viscous cycle of exhaust onto the couch,
painless worthy of note-taking task reminder, a lost love,
overcoming the abdominal centre of gravity umbrella to grasp,
night's vivid persons voice of Wisdom to amplify and filter.
An overwhelming notion of the folder, the glance, and the love.
Warm alight from a magic carpet onto the late-hour coffee shop,
hail to the standing floral dress under the glowing streetlights,
our eyes have met in a once upon a whole new world,
love spreading out our hearts to become a giant shimmering star,
entrusting her my hugs and kisses, my love, and my world.
New passion overcoming my insides calling for a cupid's bless,
enough of this game and deftly join me in a dainty dance,
with you my senses return and with you I feel joyously right.
When I saw you over the cotton clouds singing merrily,
out of nowhere getting the courage to crawl kissing you,
rolling your eyes under the skies taken by surprise,
loving me over the sea so let us dance when I count to three,
dazzling on a magic carpet of this mystical whole new world.
Saturday, 6th of February 2010
HUNGER DOES NOT KNOCK
Lone tears wrapped themselves around her heart;
blue skies lost their luster---gone dark
like the clothes of those who had to mourned
the blessed children they had borne.
Hunger does not knock: just bellies in---
whirling through empty spaces like free winds
leaching cracks in abandoned barns
rotting in barren fields no longer sown.
She tries to imprison herself in the sleep
that delays the storming awakening pangs;
seeking that dark abysmal deep
to fill the vacuous abdominal lanes.
Hunger does not knock:
just seeps through the cracks of life
like rays through shaded panes.
Each day is an audacious dare;
life grows invisible
to those that say they truly care.
Hunger does not knock:
just creeps right in and steals its share.
Within, life and death resides; but
but suicide is the greatest sin;
only the Master must decide
who, where, when; but then---
Hunger does not knock:
just walks right on in---
blessed be you and me---
starvation is not a sin.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
gluteus maximus left and right half moon cheek
re: byte size buttock
attached via usb (uniform firm behind) to this freak
with bowel movement incontinence + gas filled gut
evoking contortionist frown stretching to lowest peak
perched upon porcelain goddess where elimination did jut
held captive hostage atop toilet seat for many a week
exertion to expel rock solid turd required utmost effort
to force jammed bowel movement free
inducing excruciating abdominal cramps that really hurt
plus sharp jabbing spasms within high knee
innards rent asunder from obstruction as BB size PELLETS did spurt
from lodged fecal matter refusing to budge from me
caused by severe constipation whereby prayer a waste
delivered only increased sphincter muscle to scream
for rectal relief this mortal man faced
a worse fate than death, he would deem
since demise would allow alimentary misery to cease
versus remaining in this impasse for what might be years
unless perchance some **** lubricant or special grease
would bust loose abominable constriction in arrears
finding me unable to pay rent or renew lease
best prospect of remaining stationary with words to wax
poetic found a glimmer of luck
when a kind wildebeest delivered this message via fax
to help attend male in dire per situation get poop unstuck
with outsize mug of exlax
to help unclog rectal muck
access to get expunged to the max
but once expulsion occurs DO DO PLEASE DUCK!
the roots – i.e. genealogy of words long held me
(no pun intended) held spell bound
e'en upon fertilization of ova and sperm viz – conception,
an acute sensory means n'er got drowned
out via the bubbling, dribbling, huzzahing...
(from within and without the womb) while in utero,
especially when me then young spring chick hen ova mum,
and cock strutting cock
(doodling his due tee) oft testes handsome dad found
their coop t'would be increased by another
(at that time no means prevailed to foretell gender,
but an old wives tale hatched
since time immemorial stubbornly persisted
if the husband put right heir (ear) to the ground
accompanied with petsmart skills of a blood hound
a close approximation could be discerned,
whether the swelling abdominal mound
would yield a son or daughter,
which second guess passed thru
the umbilical cord shaped grape vine as re noun
splendor – giving participants planning a baby shower
purchasing and showcasing an infant gewgaw
costing no mo' than a best seller by Ezra Pound
or a couple rolling stones,
preferably those flat versus being round
with assessment sans prediction per sex of offspring
offered slightly greater hedge Tibet
with recent introduction of ultra sound
nonetheless genesis (unbeknownst to either parent –
trapped in that role for a life time)
this fetus took a fancy to imbibing verbalization
that transpired between when shine
warmed the cockles and muscles of this parasite – ha –
expanding his vocabulary prior tummy birth in nine
teen hundred and...(th beh so thee ya haint tell in –
go ask aunt Roadie) or...find someone name Stein
beck, and give yaw self a pat on the back faw trine
plotting a tentative addition to family tree or
(what would turn out tubby more apropos) a vine,
cuz ma late mum referred tomb me as her little monkey
who when born deeply engrossed reading about urine
thence, when the pediatric doctor snatched the book –
BOY DID I WHINE
which out shrilled any wailing police car,
or emergency hospital siren
thus...i got christened RED (for short), yet code named 120 db
which translates as the decibel threshold for pain
even afflicting the dead poet Byron.
Summer Belly
First hot day of early Summer brings it out.
The snow white folds of fast food residue,
Overflowing the ill advised shorts.
It has to go somewhere so out it comes
Wobbling in the season’s first rays.
An avalanche of abdominal extra.
Last year’s top won’t fit this year’s model
But it’s fun to watch all the same
from where do they grow under the See of unknown some weaved in the shell and bone linking slinking silent under the sound waves maybe in the great lakes of the cat it lay but this great lynx under the ocean spray in reflective eyes this bright eyes he is a king over all the children of pride.
It has the head and paws of a giant cat weakens the nations an abdominal bat but is covered in scales and has daggers but set with hook in lake of fire he staggers like spikes running along its back and tail no weapon formed shall harm do not bewail just a toy of the most high he rises but fails taken for legends but the truth entails when returning the true Lord of Sky's with hook tremble satan Jesus draws nigh