Best Dyspeptic Poems
When I was eight
I knew Paradise could not be merely secular humane
and yet be justly and omnipotently divine,
when a Great Horned Owl
breathed her last sacred breath toward me,
left alone
while she flew away
to where I would thinly follow
in my robust adult time.
It took me eight cycles of octave eight
to realize why
Paradise must include multiculturing nests for fowl
and ecopolitically cooperative seas for fish
and surf's bilateral co-gravity
eco-measuring timeless here and now eternity.
Because a monocultural Paradise
would be polypathically oxymoronic,
an economically and nutritionally ridiculous
metaphysical paradigm,
not ecologically sustainable,
not even basic harmonic healthy balance
because not synergetically
multiculturally
and polypathically
or polyphonically healthy
wealth intelligence
of regenerative/degenerative
ecopolitical
co-empathic/dyspeptic design.
Everybody knows that Heaven
begins and ends in an organically holistic Earth Garden,
with zero-balanced degenerative waste stream,
and nonzero-soul potential
panentheistic integrity,
yes?
So how does denying our climate
and Earthscape wasting pathologies
help us become the ReForesting Paradise
we might cooperatively become
through healing these dissonant
decaying apartheid anomalies
together?
Categories:
dyspeptic, beauty, earth, earth day,
Form:
Prose Poetry
TOMMYROT
Flabbergasted – a swimming head
A cold intrusion
A sullen bed.
Cantankerousness
Apt delusion
Inept in death
Dyspeptic relation
Cryptic tree
Unjust incarceration
Liberate me.
Categories:
dyspeptic, change, conflict, creation, hate,
Form:
Lyric
Sour bile on my lips
Carrots and potatoes spew
Orange and yellow
Categories:
dyspeptic, food, health, loss,
Form:
Haiku
Occasionally I dream.
Black ominous spots in my closed eyes.
Dreams I never remember,
Dreams I don't want to remember.
For when I do I cringe with fear
Sit in a corner of my darkened room,
Trying unsuccessfully to forget.
Fitful recurring dreams,
That leaves the palate dry,
Devoid of savored zest,
Flat as unleavened bread.
Dark shadows in a dark room,
Swirling, gasping, mutely roaring,
Ugly, brusque, dyspeptic, and morose.
It gyrates meaninglessly in the void,
A menacing, unpleasant stench
That eventually dissolves into nothingness.
Dreams orchestrated to confuse,
Meant to gradually unhinge the mind.
So occasionally I dream.
The rest I am awake to face
The terrors of the night.
Note: I wrote this poem in 2003. never posted as far as I know. Sometimes I enjoy dark poems but they are FICTIONAL.
Categories:
dyspeptic, dark, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Beautiful daughter of my village President,
Was presented by her father gift very precious;
(Twenty grams of gold with diamond-stones content),
Gorgeous-looking with fine red-sapphire-strip, gracious...!
Merry, the girl went, exposing it to all,
Father felt proud, though mother grew a bit skeptic;
It's then, on her face, soon a cloud of gloom did fall,
Hearing the story father grew like dyspeptic...!
Pond, she said; while bathing; whole water they pumped out;
To the utter surprise of all, no ring they got;
Mother, guessing daughter's ways, got many a doubt,
Shut her mouth, as she did not know the exact plot...!
On finger of neighbor-boy, the ring someone found,
Before the whole town knew, both eloped, safe-and-sound...!!!
27 June 2022
Categories:
dyspeptic, father daughter, lost love,
Form:
Sonnet
I crossed from Boston Common to the pub
on Beacon Street. A barstool, banter, beers
awaited me, for I was bound for "Cheers",
the suds-and-suckers landmark of The Hub.
But this was not remotely as I'd hoped.
So small and squat and square, and antiseptic!
A couple from Des Moines, and one dyspeptic
waitress in the "chow shack", neatly-roped.
The silence made me feel I'd interloped.
Six bucks a beer. As I morosely moped,
the woman I'd come all this way to see
(so blonde, so buxom, with such perfect skin)
was far too occupied to lunch with me.
Facades are only there to draw you in.
Categories:
dyspeptic, life,
Form:
Sonnet
It's not true
that Original Taoist Laotse
did not say
Laughter in response to his teachings
was his outcome indicator of deepest nature-spirit-mystery
comprehension.
It's not true
that laughter could be disassociated from
agapic bliss
or erotic baptisms.
It's not true
that laughter can feel any distinction
worthy of a label difference
between erotic bodies and agapic minds,
nor did Laotse.
Where the body's erotic love and terrors lead,
the political mind goes with and as and for
and away from.
Where mind's agapic love
and disempowering fears and angers merge,
eco-normic body value-transfers,
willingness to invest and divest,
go with and as and for
and away from.
How could erotic Yang political nature
ever become separated from Yin's spiritual eco-normic agape?
without decomposing laughter's cosmic health insurance issues
and promise of deeply discounted reassurance rates
and raves that we really are talking synergistically about climate exchange,
when every suffering person
and other endangered tribes, knows
we need a revolution for climate happy health
that could peacefully and justly absorb
all our dyspeptic pathology,
rooted in LeftBrain anthro-ego's sobering hubris.
Categories:
dyspeptic, beauty, body, happiness, health,
Form:
Parallelismus Membrorum
Without partisan doubt
the opposite of bliss
could be hate,
for bliss blinds dyspeptic,
double-binds synaptic
and fast-fades ephemeral,
as if it too soon
had never been.
Hate broods and breeds
festers and feeds
on past angry memories
fading forward future fears
of empty echoing
hot flowing paranoia
feasting on should have beens,
could have becomes,
if not for ruinous mortality.
In life's end,
defeat,
in our beginning,
terror of relentless trauma.
Fearing the opposite of my bliss
could be your rage,
blindingly synaptic,
fading back to slow-burning distrust
of animal life's long-suffering challenges,
anthro on anthro.
I don't recall rage
against the weather,
or mosquitoes,
or even swarming bees.
Rage,
contrasted to more generic angry fear-filled panic,
overpowers Earth's most triumphal terrors
then fades back
as if it had never been
any more than hyperactive mistrust,
bad faith
unsafely harbored in swarming seas of dissonant stress.
Blissful rave through hateful rage,
Earth's vast embodied stage
for feelings flowing like light and fading dark clouds
before sun and star light's constant witness,
waiting for Earth's multiculturing humane tribes
to learn full-octaved harmonics
like preverbal infants
learning which operatic brights
bring bliss,
which bring rage,
and what will outrageously radical raves feel like
to timelessly sustain,
living full-stretched crown and root
systemic MotherTree resonance.
Categories:
dyspeptic, anger, fear, happiness, health,
Form:
Parallelismus Membrorum
Occasionally I dream.
Black ominous spots as my eyes close.
A dream I never remember,
A dream I don't want to remember.
For when I do I cringe with fear,
Sit in a corner of my darkened room,
Trying unsuccessfully to forget.
Fitful recurring dream,
That leaves the palate dry,
Devoid of savored zest,
Flat as unleavened bread.
Murky shadows in a dark room,
Swirling, gasping, mutely roaring,
Ugly, brusque, dyspeptic, and morose.
It gyrates meaninglessly in the void,
A menacing, unpleasant stench
That eventually dissolves into nothingness.
A dream orchestrated to confuse,
Meant to gradually unhinge the mind.
So fatigued, I sleep and dream.
The rest I am awake to face
The terrors of the night.
Surrounded by four impenetrable walls.
Categories:
dyspeptic, dream,
Form:
Free verse
My wife was cooking tea last night
With letters made of pasta
I told the kids "prepare yourself,
Cos this could spell disaster"
My daughter said "it's not that bad,
The worst we'll get's dyspeptic,
You know that Mum can't spell a thing
She's totally dyslexic"
Categories:
dyspeptic, child, food, fun, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
My Thoughts on The Media
A Miracle Man Opinion
6/6/3032
I suppose you could call me a skeptic,
the daily news has left me dyspeptic.
Much of our news I believe is slanted,
I feel our trust is taken for granted.
Positive stories are too hard to find,
so news reported is the negative kind.
The media tends to grind it’s own axe,
only one side, sometimes, ignoring facts.
Losing sight of the real objective,
they give you the news from their perspective.
Categories:
dyspeptic, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
Infidel fish arrive,
shoals of blank-eyed eaters swim in circles,
each time the head turns toward Mecca
they nudge it in another direction.
Sea-bugs emerge,
dyspeptic crustaceans as small as fleas,
fastidious eaters
that consume only hate.
Above the waves a ship sails away,
having buried again
the evidence of hells D.N.A.
Categories:
dyspeptic, poetry,
Form:
Free verse