Best Hypochondria Poems


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I’m an old man, though not as old 
	as I was ten years ago 
        when I thought I would be dead by now; 
	that was hypochondria talking.
	 
	I have a friend, my best friend, 
	who's somewhat older than I am, 
	yet older than he actually is, 
	and is very slowly and very surely 
	killing himself. 
	
	How do I say to him
	that I’ll accompany him on his journey,
	if only in my heart, 
	that I don’t judge his choices? 
	How do I thank him 
	for being with me on my journey? 
	
	What will I do when he is no longer 
	one of my life’s companions,
	other than in my memory? 
	
	Can love accompany passage into the void, 
	through the passion of cremation, 
	to the scattering of the ashes?
 	
	I have no answers, 
	only hope.

Hypochondrial Illusion

Hypochondrial Delusion

A mind corrupted canker
Of cystic self failure
Even gastric anorexia
And fluttery throb to alight the fear
An adrenaline generated tachycardia
That matches respiration
And causes hyperventilation
With invasive pacy rhythm
And palpitating violation
To anxious infarction
 In schizoid arrest

A hepatic paranoia 
of dermal yellow 
And lily liver assault
That feeds a life non start 
Of malignant low self esteem
A delusional malaise
Of apoplectic panic
And stressful apoplexy 

A localized dorsal twinge
To further worry
Lumbar or thoracic or
Renal calculi or a case of
Bulimic nausea and peptic ulcer
To stoke the festering psyche
Of somatic obsession

Embolic anguish that leads to
A hypertensive strain
With muscular tremor and distorted vision
And a full blown occulogyric crisis
Ensued by catatonia 
Comatosed by 
Psychotic breakdown and
Inactive body systems 
A perusal of the medical book
Confirms the diagnosis of
Life threatening
Hypochondria

Failed Philosophy Students

Philosophers debated:
Can a medium ever be small or large?
Is faux leather from fake cows?
Does a hypochondriac think he has everything except hypochondria?
Do denture wearers always give us false smiles?
If a snail loses its shell, does it become a slug?

For Su’s Suzette Prime contest, 27th November
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.


Perfect

Perfect!  (Hypochondria?)

I’m not sick.  I’m not ill.  I’m not crazy.  
There is nothing wrong with being perfect.
My mommy told me so.
"illness anxiety disorder" It’s just a label….Just a name
Like thousands of other names that I can’t say, I can’t spell
Such as the thousands of lethal viruses and bacterial pathogens 
Out to get me.  I know they want me.
As they try to get inside to kill me.
They cross my path without a care
Don't even wipe their feet
They are here!  They are there!  They are everywhere! 
So what.  I don’t care.
I quit my job and wife and life to deal with them
And deal with them I will
They won’t find me.  No sir!
I’ll never leave my house again
I hide in disinfectant waters in day
In scalding hot baths and microwave ovens at night
Me and Purdy; Purdy is my sparrow in a hermetically sealed cage
He would sing all day if he were alive today
But he never was.  He never existed
As you can see he is plastic
Plastic birds don’t sing but they are free
Free from infections, infestations, nasty things found in nature
My birdie is sterilized, sanitized, purified…. like me
We wear our hypoallergenic suits and masks
Which, when applied properly, qualifies us as being clean
Keeps us alive for the time being

3-D Printout

it ain't the gush of hot blood
or a madman’s teeth ripping open
a bag of chips and a microbrew
it is a clenched heart squeezed
by the age of steam
then left at the century's doorstep
following the great migration
of Cimmerians to Penemunde
said the monkey to the parrot
we’ll cut away from our intro now
just didn't want the intergalactic
Mind Police Black Dog Terror Squad
to think I had forgotten their food dish
hence the esophageal spasm
it's all a gateway to paradise
where Lake Placid can only erupt
I assure you posthumously volcanically
presumed dead perhaps alive
possibly a victim of hypochondria
needing humanitarian relief
hell what do I know
you got your deductive
you got your inductive
one leads to vacillation
the other to megalomania
I watched the best minds of my generation 
lobotomize themselves with ideology
and lop their nuts off with paper cutters
less out of vengeance than mitigated tranquility
journalists were the first to go
many ifs in the Thesaurus of Legends
you see the words
you spectate pleasantly
inconsequential and obsolete
separated from the five senses
by the five in-between senses
sense of irony sense of outrage
sense of monotony sense of wonder
sense of mediocrity
and a great list of impermissibles
as long as your extended elbow
with curiosity the test of courage
discovering that the path of least aversion
was sweet to gaze upon
in a universe of distortions
this is a level 5 commando alert
follow me men he drunkenly commanded
and stumbled out into the darkness
cursing and singing


From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/

Mental Palinopsia

The fireworks glaze the corners of my eyes
But I can't see, the bombs falling all around me
The rushing blood pumping through my legs
I can feel glaucoma coming with every scream

Grasping the chalky stone near my knees
A black sky, alight with frozen mitochondria
A gibbous moon passes this outer lined disease
Clenching my chest, a latrine of hypochondria

Walking back through the city for my apartment
Bumping into each bystander my indifference can reach
Lossless complaints printed upon a crinkled parchment
My apathetic tendencies swim through this tar soaked beach

Preparing my makeshift bed and wishing I could pretend
That soaking my throat in lorazepam will melt my ice cold cornea
That this melting pillow will strip all my split ends
That this night wouldn't suffer from mental palinopsia


Hypochondria

On a wet drippy day in India
He got the irksome hypochondria
His crazy mind cued in to pee
He was a loony, he must be
Shuttling in throes of polyuria.










03rd May, 2018

A Letter To My Mother

From dusk to dawn 
Sunrise to sundown
This I will never forget 
Your kisses that always left me in a comfort 
And a bliss that no grief could ever secrete
A mile-wide-smile and sweet
That never deserted your cheeks

Your submissiveness 
When my stomach would rumble
How you would enable my aptitudes
And change my ill attitudes
And fashion my self-esteem
Not to be the next awaited victim
Under any state of affairs 

You reduced yourself down to zero
But to me you were still a hero 
Jointly we went outdoors and out 
And more often than not 
We would go up the hills 
And lean idly upon the walls

You were my physician 
Upon all signs of hypochondria
You were a mother superior
You did the whole in a real thrill
You were to me mother-of-pearl

People said, "too much sweet cloys"
But your love to me grew bold in all ways
Now and then I never thought
Life could bring in me a heart-strife
And put a blot of blood on my ecstasy

I recall one day I stood neighboring you
With my two hands akimbo
It was the nightfall of the 16th July 
My tongue had stranded on its pivots
My mouth was kept mum
So were my tryouts
To keep you from shutting those eyes
I asked myself so many whys 
I stretched my eyes to see if it was a lie
Only to hurt them and find I couldn't deny
That I was left a flag without a pole
And like a shoe without a sole
Or like a worker denied a dole
In my heart there was now a hole

Life turned a wound that hurt
I got myself caught up in a mesh 
Like a fishbone stuck in my throat

I never thought
Life could be so dicey
I was blind at the outset now I see
This life will never set me free 
In every breath I'll pay a huge fee
For my blameworthy breakthroughs
Still death split people into twos
The worldly and the heavenly 
The lonely and the heavenly
Mothers gone, children left odd socks
Little strokes fell great oaks

In my life time and hereafter
As long as eyes can see, mouths can utter
From side to another, below to above
There has never been a heartfelt love 
Like yours to me 
Or whose love that can be?

A Vindictive Mind

A MIND SEEKING REVENGE
IS LIKE A PRISONER WITH NO JUSTICE
IT WON’T TAKE ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR  ITS ACTIONS
FOR IT WILL  PLOT AN ILLEGAL PLAN OF  DESTRUCTIVE EVIL

IT WILL FORSAKE AND TERRORIZE ANY SIGHN OF A CONSCIENCE
IT WILL FORBID ANY FORCE OF INSANITY
AND WILL BARRICADE ITS TEARS
ITS DARKNESS IS INEVITABLE

IT WIL BECOME ABORTIVE
IT WILL FLAUNT ITS FALSE EMOTIONS
BUT IT WILL EXTIRPATE ITS PLAN
AND IT WOULD LEAD TO A GRIDLOCK

THE MIND WOULD THEN HAVE HYPOCHONDRIA
IT CHOSE ITS KISMET
BUT IT STILL HAS A PLAN TO LYNCH SOMEONE
BUT IT WILL THEN MARTYR

THE MIND SEEKING REVENGE IS NOW NOXIOUS
AND OVERPOWERING
IT’S SLAPDASH
BUT A TYRO IN ITS NEXT SCHEME

IT WILL JAB THROUGH ITS CARELESS THOUGHTS
BUT IN THE END IT WILL HAVE A FEELING,
A FEELING OF PIQUE
AND IT WILL RUMINATE OF ITS DEEDS

Eating the Lotus

Mr. Eli is such a nice guy, 
his skin's a pretty Lilly white
'times when my placebo ain't workin'
my personal pill prescribing plight

generically i'm very uncommon
as i always fill the proprietary
Mr. Merck is the plan's official shaman
Sista Pfizer fills caps as secondary

my apathy ain't getting any better
but 'least now, i don't much care
linkin' addiction's such a fetter
pharmacologically way beyond compare

Paxil's take leaves us all depressed
patently dubious claims to prescribe
diseases mongering male pattern baldness
script me a cure for my hypochondria vibe

my Doc gets me a thirty day supply
and even calls my pusher's service
they'd never leave me high-'n'-dry
we'd all be sweatin', anxiously nervous

'cause ya see - they're just as hooked
on the green that passes in between
we both rely that the tablet's cooked
can't live without it and start to wean

now ya know why i'm a lotus eater
gonna be one for the rest of my life
claimin' health plan's deductible sweeter
gonna heal myself with ignorant blithe

the mix is extracted from the lotus
ground fine and refined to my creed
we all need a little somthin' for impetus
got my catharsis - my narcotic - my need

© Goode Guy 2013-01-16
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Matter of Life and Death

You often claimed you were unwell
Pure hypochondria - I could always tell
Because you lied

You’ve faked illnesses over many years
Googling symptoms brought crocodile tears
Because you cried

When you really were ill I did not believe
Now I’m all alone and been left to grieve
Because you died

Triple Stanza Couplet Tail-Rhyme Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Charles Messina

05/28/20

Hyperchondria

somethin' ain't right
somethin' ain't cool
my head's poundin' hot
need ta see somebody who'll

be able to give me a diagnoses,
to tell me my likely prognosis
'cause I jus' don't know what to do, 
I think I got the subliminal flu

below the threshold of perception
I'm chilled hot an' shakin' over
I think I've contracted self-deception
moreover, I'm sure I've got overexposure

I can't sleep, I obviously can't dream
my palms are sweatin' wet 'n' sticky
ain't nothin' like what it really seems
my mind, my brain, my god! I'm sickly!!

my chest is palpitatin'
my eyelids are justa flutterin'
the whole damn thing's so aggravatin'
I wish I could jus' stop this sufferin'

you think "it's all in my head"
and I hope that you'd be right
'cause if it moves into my heart
I'll be dead before midnight

"breathe" I tell myself, "jus' breathe"
it'll be alright if ya just chill it
just fall in bed or jus' crawl underneath
better thrown for a loop than thrown for a fit

Ahhhh, now -- inhale -- breathe again
that's better, s l o w e r...ok now
- sometimes bein' me is just a bane
but thanks, I'm better, recoupin' somehow

I'm gettin' back from this virile attack

© Goode Guy 2013-01-22

yeah I know it's spell'd "hypochondria"...
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Labored Breathing

“After obsessively Googling symptoms for four hours,
I discovered 'obsessively Googling symptoms' is a
symptom of hypochondria.”     Stephen Colbert

LABORED BREATHING

cough is heard - a hack
that causes one to wipe brow
with thermometer
in creases of worry lines
hoping for sweat not fever

3/4/2020

Premium Member Survival Is

SURVIVAL
is feeling there is no point in getting up in the morning
showering getting dressed, what is the bloody point
but know that you have to.

is suppressing that nagging tickly cough, just in case.
Cannot go coughing and sneezing, not now
that could mark the beginning of the end
hypochondria is slowly creeping in.

is maintaining a healthy eating and exercise habit
also remembering to take those prescribed tablets
you need to stay in good health, more so now
going into hospital could be hell.

is sanitising, to obsessive proportions, 
hands, worktops, door handles, groceries, taps
everything bleached, scrubbed, sprayed,

is creating daily routines and rituals to pass time
Or else, yesterday, today, tomorrow will be the same
tedium would probably send me insane.

is looking forward to the daily walk in the park
the air is fresher, trees and flowers vibrant
squirrels play hide and seek - or so I tell myself.

is looking forward to seeing other people
being aware of physical distance, but, enjoying
the friendliness of a smile, a nod, a hello.

is knowing that you must compete to get food
midnight on the computer in the online queue
to survive this is what you need to do.


Is not absorbing too much information about the virus
news of the devastation, of the death and destruction
hearing of the rising numbers of the daily death toll
seeing images victims and their who they’ve left behind.

Instead, finding time and space for distraction, relaxation
sharing how we are feeling: sometimes anger sometimes fear, 
sometimes grief, sometimes gratitude because

I am alive and doing Okay.

Hypochondria

I am numb to the days I feel better. 

I am certain about my fate as time passes. 

I am confused as I look back at the progression of symptoms. 

I am peaceful when I try to plan for a long and difficult future.

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