Best Ibuprofen Poems
Oh,doctor I am in a flap
I cannot turn this childproof cap
I cannot take my medicine
So I shall toss it in the bin
The beta blockers make me down
I am in a study brown.
The mini aspirins make me bruise
And my mind is quite confused.
The ibuprofen hurt my heart
Yet without one I cannot start.
The thyroxine has no effect
So now I feel my life is dreck.
The codeine fails to make me high
I'm not addicted, though I try.
I'll have to take a shot of gin
And alcohol will make me sin.
I'll go to parties in a dress
That makes men's hormones more or less.
I'll take a big one home with me,
And give him poison in his tea.
And when I am in jail at last
I'll feel remorse for all my past.
For as I suffer dreadful pain
God has hit me yet again.
It's not enough that I am blind
And suffer terrors in my mind
Not enough that lovers cruel
Give me stick instead of jewels.
Or maybe life does not make sense
Especially when I feel so tense.
Maybe random are my days
and my life has gone astray.
I think that I shall buy a cat
And love it tenderly and chat.
But if my cat gives me a scratch...
I'll light its tail up with a match.
All the world must me obey
Else I'll be enraged all day.
I want my own way all the time.
Other people must conform.
I am here and full of ills
What do you think of these blue pills?
If they take away my heart
That at least will be a start.
Then they can remove my brain
To help me with this damned pain.
Why not kill me right away
Then I'll be from pain astray?
Feeling Rough
Sore throat, runny nose,
Could be a cold I suppose,
Or could it be influenza?
I think I need a detox cleanser
Turmeric, folic acid, gingko leaf
I'm feeling rough beyond belief
High B.P. and heart attack
Been called a hypochondriac
Gout in toe, earache
I never know what to take
Rheumatism in both knees
That Ibuprofen gel seems to ease
All my ailments could fill a page
My greatest one is called old-age
The secret ingredients of Viagra I'm gonna present
There's Asprin, Ibuprofen, Vitamins A and C to a certain extent
But the biggest surprise
Which will open your eyes
is that Fix-A-Flat makes up over 90 percent!
This is a poetic response to Colin Mitchell Williams's poem, Broken Back.
The opiate for the
Mass.
A promised rebirth
Sapped the
Life
Breath
From
Beggars and Kings alike.
She died once again
And will
Continue
Dying
Death
No fiend
Romanticism,
Ibuprofen for
Broken
Backs
This is your last life, so what you don't agree? -
Born to move belongings, hug friends at the gate,
To buy some ibuprofen in duty free,
To nod at giggling Koreans, notice their traits.
This is your last body, a sound one-seat frame
Waiting in lounge to board for the hut above
Wait a little, baby, thirty-or-so lame
Years and you'll sit to laugh with Him who you love.
If you regret then only that you've seen
You grasp eternal truth hard and belated.
My new fringe does filter the world as a screen
Therefore it becomes a little less-hated.
Sit down and taste everything new that glistens.
If there's anything you can't see from the ground -
Research from above. There's a load not yet found
In last youth, this tough coordinate system.
Dance in your poems, with heels flick in a fling.
A party? No sleep for neighbors and friends hang
Here. And you are so beautiful with your bangs -
Geez, some idiot gets lucky this spring.
Pull the curtain open
Butterflies in your stomach with ibuprofen
The stage is set and the cameras are running
And critics are spread out in the back with looks that aren't so stunning...
I'm in the balcony wondering, "What's the plot?"
This reminds me of the day that Lincoln got shot...
The characters are puppets with too tight of pants
The master pulls the strings and the puppets dance
Puppets that sin and worship the devil
All of a sudden theater has been taken to a-whole-nother level...
Wow, what a magnificent scene, it left all the audience stunned
I'm still sweating from anticipation of Lincoln getting gunned...
But anticipation is over, blood is spread out all over the stage
The bystanders panic and shout wildly in rage
But meanwhile, the show is over...the characters bow while the theater is being hosed
Pull the curtain closed
BLACK AND BLUE FRIDAY
First – the carbo-loading
monster meal to sustain
the beast that drives
the cornerstone of greed
in mindless hunt for “bargains”.
Next – jockeying for position
awaiting the starter’s pistol
explosion of coupon bearers
storming the gates of ….greed
pursuing an empty, endless, need.
Feint right, fake left, bob and weave
position, position, timing
shuffle-step, reverse pivot
head fake and twist, break right
aisle 6, electronics, end zone – score!!!
Crazy dance, fire works,
no flags thrown, no penalties.
Game over. Ice and ibuprofen,
rest and recuperation.
AH, the joy of
BLACK (AND BLUE) FRIDAY.
John G. Lawless
11/21/2017
Running a fever which mocked her
she took ibuprofen and a bath.
Wondering, should she call the doctor,
she decided on a cheaper path.
She called the diner on the third floor,
ordered pizza (she cannot resist ‘em).
Oven-baked in a shop just next door,
“Deliv’ry in thirty.” - What a system!
An earache had now come upon her,
she applied some oil of oregano.
No cash! hopefully her check they'll honor
doorbell rings, duty calls, “It’s DiGiorno!”
Noting the nuanced aroma, guy smiled,
“Is that oregano I smell in New York?
Then he begged for a piece, like a child,
but she chased him from her flat with a fork.
April 8, 2020
I am one
with these streets
suffering
the climatic woes
chaos throws
the freeze thaw
freeze thaw
ebb or flow
I can't do both
holes
I'm falling in
where's my
Ibuprofen
Codeine, my Codeine
Codeine, my Codeine
Why must you be so small?
If you were any smaller
I'd not see you at all
I've lost you in the shag-pile rug
And underneath the bed
If I keep on losing you
I'll take Ibuprofen instead
If you’re reading this, don't tell anyone:
I guess you’d figure that by now I found it.
There’s something so innocent, yet menacing about the way you move.
They say there’s no saints without sinners.
I used to be The Catcher in the Rye
but now, I lay helpless until noon after kissing the floor every time it gets dark.
Still friends with my demons, simply levitating to avoid them,
my fingers smell and my jacket is stained, bleached in a few areas
and my neck hurts, aching from the stiff, hunched position.
I wish that when I told you how hollow I was, you believed me.
But no one will question me if I smile,
so I will sit and grin all pretty for you
as my teeth decay
and I blankly laugh at every misogynistic joke that comes my way
in a stinging slap to my face.
I’d reckon that it’s better to burn out than fade away.
And I'll take my ibuprofen dosage to combat the migraines
so you don’t hear my complaints.
You feel invincible when you're young,
too bad I'm a grown up now.
Hell has insisted his normalcy on me.
I know you know that one of us was lying.
The things I did to feel alive…
the ones that brought me the closest to departure.
You were my reason for living, my brush with death.
But this one isn’t about you, even though your eyes are still seared into my mind, your voice still pierces my memory, those songs may be ruined for me, and I still lose my appetite every so often when I think about what you were doing with her, but thank you.
You saved me from myself by holding me under your foot for five months,
crushing my existence into shards.
And I’m still picking up the pieces.
But I won’t cut myself with them this time.
Not after what you said on my last tuesday there.
I now know that loneliness is veritably freedom disguised as the antagonist.
And finally, my voice is shot, rawly lost, but not from the agony this time.
My voice-- it’s gone with the warm wind, the windows down.
It wasn't easy to be happy for you, but I remind myself of my power:
I am nobody's problem and I belong to none other than myself.
Aspirin, a powerful little pill
Ibuprofen, a safe pain pill
Them two little remedies almost stole what's mine
Finding myself in the emergency room was a shock to me
I didn't know I had it
That little bug in me that doesn't agree with some foreign bugs
Constricted airways, wheezing, swelling every where, name it all
And then to top it all, a mammoth bill
So i've become a paranoid little being
Keeping my enemies far from my food incase someone decided to slip a pill
Poetry Challenge Day Three
Poem Number 21
===========
Thank Goodness for the OTCs
Relieving coughs, sniffles and sneeze
Ibuprofen for the fever
So thankful for this pain reliever
And answered prayers
Through Acedominaphrin
Hallelujah, and amen
Blessed through modern medicine!
P.C. Poem #22
=========
We've rested almost through the day
But now I am quite pleased to say
This mighty mean and nasty flu
Tonight is feeling almost through
The painful throbbing in my head
Abated now, I'm up from bed!
tenderness in every swivel of my pen,
the curvature used to be alluring.
it was thoughtless beauty, even
in note form. now, even my index tap
on the overused i-pad causes pain.
ibuprofen and blue ice chisel at my wrist.
i need a needle filled with panacea-ink
to extend the life of my poetic thoughts.
the doc sits around waiting for me to call?
biding my time, hoping an eraser
will correct the mistakes. panic set in
as the doctor has a long list of dates.
Dr. Darth Vader makes me wait on the death star.
O, bend, wan, can, NO, be!
a star wars laser cut off Luke’s hand…*
My skin crawls as I watch a hand,
disembodied,
reach yet again into the Tollhouse bag.
Bright, artificial yellow. It burns my eyes.
Countless chocolate chips are shoveled down my gullet
as if crumbs to a wretched, starving creature.
I’m only jarred out of my sinful haze by catching si th r of my reflection.
That face staring back at me - I don’t know it.
Dry, lifeless eyes,
the expression of a corpse,
chocolate smeared on the edges of my mouth.
Disgust rises like bile in my throat.
This stranger lives a soft life.
Hours spent lounging by the fire,
fleshy stomach warm and sated,
screen filled with ads and the inane,
I have never known struggle.
The world blazes with fire
and the screams of dying children surround the soul,
so I employ synthetic numbing agents.
Blue light has seared my nerve endings into inactivity
while glucose rots me to my core.
Do my vices truly dim the pain of helplessness?
Or do they simply induce a coma of false innocence
until I’m able to face the world?
“My” face stares back at me,
haunted and hated.
I am vitriol,
bottled up and consumed.
For consumption is the only skill we have left;
purses and devices and anything worth a cent are
boxed up,
framed with silver tongues,
and shoved down our throats faster than we can blink.
And we take the poison,
digesting it like the obedient cattle we are.
Not even thousands of victims can rouse us from our stupor,
willingly chosen to numb the conscience and the void
yawning from self-inflicted purposelessness.
Ibuprofen for the guilt of privilege and powerlessness.
I choke on the silver spoon from which I’m fed these pills
but find I swallow regardless.