Best Incontinent Poems
Perilous Times
Written: by Miracle Man
September 25, 2020
Lord, Hear our prayers as we intercede,
on behalf of our troubled world today.
Disobedient people good thoughts impede,
and each day brings some new affray.
Today we are living in those perilous times,*
that you said the last days would bring.
The media reports daily on riots and crimes,
change our hearts before death bell’s ring.
*2 Timothy 3:1-4
1 This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come.
2 For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy,
3 Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good,
4 Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God;
An incontinent man from Thottle
Slept with his hot water bottle
It burst in the night
His wife got a fright
She said next time do use your pottle
05~03~15
Quotation used:- Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, and half-shut afterwards. Benjamin Franklin
Contest: Dumb and Dumber Quotes - Sponsor John Freeman
Smut old tom cat
Blind as a bat
incontinent as a baby
Casanova, maybe?
Gentle smooth lover
Naps over and over!
Our so called golden years are called golden, can anyone tell me why
They are anything but 'golden', the reality makes me want to cry
Welcome to glasses, grey or white hair and false teeth....oh my
Wrinkles galore, age spots and skin that is extremely dry
Rounded back and shoulders, unable to stand up tall
Hip protectors may be needed in case you slip and fall
Legs may buckle at any moment, a walker you may have to choose
For you don't want to end up on the floor with a ugly break or bruise
Bladder might betray you, a sneeze or cough may cause you to leak
Incontinent products you'll have to use, the prospect can be bleak
People think your ignoring them for your oblivious when they speak
Put in your new hearing aid and change the batteries every week
Your joints are achy, it hurts to move, pain becomes your worst villain
Darn infections wreck havoc, you have a repeat prescription of penicillin
Your extremely forgetful, objects seem to disappear on their own
Forgetting your best friends name makes you want to groan
Long term friends are passing away, funerals become a social event
Wearing black way too often, leaves you with feelings of discontent
If by chance Dementia robs your mind, and even yourself you can't recall
Every day becomes a brand new day, reinvent yourself and have a ball
Even though you can conclude it's your body that has mostly betrayed
What is truly golden is the countless priceless memories you have made
5/29/2015
Incontinence
(A misery of getting older)
By Roy Merritt
I have to see the doctor I’m incontinent I’m sure
And I’m not very certain that my bladder will endure
Yes I’m incontinent with each of nature’s call
And that my prostate is as big as a basketball
It seems I’m always running with the need to go you see
And if I don’t make it it’ll be all over me
And when I see the doctor the greatest thing I fear
Is that he will tell me I have to quit drinking beer
I’ll have to quit drinking and other stupid things
To avoid looking the fool and making a dreadful scene
And have many a rude person an impolite crowd
Making fun of me as if a little child
But if they thought on it gave it some consideration
They’d realize many of them too will face this situation
I’ll have to do what the doctors say their educated advice
And of course I’ll check with one and another to make it twice
I’ll take their pills to all they ask adhere
And if they say I should darn it I’ll even give up beer
T’was an upside down world,
When I was uncurled,
They counted my fingers ‘n toes
And sucked out my nose,
It was humiliating to say the least,
I looked like a ‘lil red squirmin’ beast.
Doctor hollered out “it’s a boy!”
Mama sighed “crap!” Daddy said “Joy!”
Pappy told Mama “it was money well spent”,
Till he saw.. that I was ..incontinent.
All the nurses smiling and I didn’t know why,
Till three days later they said good by.
I was a handsome young fellow though a little short,
And I sure am glad Mama didn’t abort.
Ole Doc Perry wished us all good luck,
And Daddy brought me home in the pickup truck.
Ah yes...I remember it well...
It's another Saturday night
ending this week
as started
alone again.
I came here
almost two years ago
to my retirement hermitage
but oddly,
and often uncomfortably,
shared with my hurt kids,
mental and physical illness
adopted and then adapted;
an asylum for the perpetually incontinent.
Cars pass by.
Sometimes a loud motorcycle
or two or three or four
or even more
here on the southern boundary
of a county seat
in a State
where rural counties
have been disenfranchised
of political purpose.
Our largest employers
are two tribally owned casinos.
One across the Thames River
flowing past our backyard retreat.
Our second largest income producer
may be the County Courthouse
where attorneys and police
collude to extort voluntary donations
from poor young adults
red and yellow,
black and white,
guilty of speeding
and texting
and smoking medicine
without a license
in Great White Father's sight.
I have been listening and watching
for what this half acre is.
We are not as rural as I had hoped,
with State highway 12 too near my front yard,
but this place is also not urban
or suburban.
What it is not,
whom we are not,
seems more clearly articulated
than any positive definition,
refining our becoming quiet place,
alone together,
shunned by healthier neighbors.
It's another lonely ending
anticipating yet another not new beginning
tomorrows stretching out alone
long retiring shadows
on this southern edge
of a Connecticut County Seat
without apparent purpose
or co-defining meaning.
The surf, ferocious in the distance
white caps and roller coaster waves
nose-dives into the shore
sand rearranged; sea life takes cover-
the hermit crab –boroughs;
the gulls greedy, hungry - grab
remnants of human litter- their meal for the day-
and flee.
Homeward bound.
Rain-
torrents or drizzle feed flora, fauna, man
all given a pardon: one more day to live.
Mother Nature in a cathartic mood sends
the wind, chaotic, blasted, twisted;
or patronizing - to clean and clear.
Then returns the earth to serenity
and life.
Homeward bound.
Geese choreographed in flight
synchronized to fly as one
north to south in the winter
and intuitively reverse when
it’s time to breed and feed.
Homeward bound.
Lovers- finish
the evening’s repartee with a
nightcap of Bailey’s or Port
conjoined as they coo their way.
Homeward bound.
The warrior-committed to peace-
combative, defensive, protective, vigilant,
conflicted- kill or be killed.
The good soldier returns-decorated for bravery- in the box
covered in the coveted colors of the employer.
Some maimed –without limbs, eyes, mind.
The whole- return- many missing-their soul.
Homeward bound.
The dying- incontinent, incoherent, incompetent, in pain
wishes for a reprieve. Moans.
More morphine.
The death rattle gurgling through lungs
ravaged but determined
to discharge the last hooray of life.
Then, so it goes, homeward bound.
Kathy Tauber-2015
The Disappearance
It was a hot afternoon when a big bulk carrier left a harbour
on the coast of Bengali bound for Sydney, Australia, with a cargo
of scrap iron of ships that once had ploughed the seas that had
a retreat for some and work for others.
Then the sea parted the ship fell into timeless zone where life
repeats itself the cook is making soup and the captain studies
a map of ocean currents and lived in the now.
150 years passed, a convulsion through the zone and the ship
was back on the sea surface again and the cook served his soup.
The captain called up the harbour authorities needed a birth for
a ship no one had heard of, but its manifest stated, Sydney,
they let the ship birth on a disused pier far from the city to
the disappointment of the crew who had wanted to go ashore.
When the pilot left he was pale and shaken he felt as he had
been talking to the ghosts through layers of yesterdays.
The official from shore found quantities of cigarettes and whisky
products that had been illegal for the last sixty years in the chief
stewards store, only marijuana was legal, good for the health if
smoked in moderation.
The crew was arrested send them to a camp for interrogation, but
it was clear they were brainwashed not even water torture helped.
Then it was noticed the crew of the ship were getting older first slowly
then rapidly, nurses were called for, to look after men who could no
longer walk and many were incontinent suffering advanced Alzheimer
disease and chronic heart failure.
One morning nurses found skeletons, dark in colour and very old,
like waterlogged wood that had been thrown ashore by an irate
Storm and onto the strand of time by. This was the same time
as the ship they came in sank and broke into pieces of rusty iron.
There were rumours in Sydney about aliens, those who knew were
forbidden to speak, and experts could continue to talk about how
a ship sank so suddenly and disappeared in the sea of Bay of Bengal
on a hot afternoon 150 years ago.
Lost, Found, and Claimed -- Reborn from the seas of entropy,
Its salt profound with the alteration of mass and energy,
Bringing forth a new creation through the regenesis of "Me."
Its voice had beckoned so I've prudently listened
As it spoke of salvation and escape from the sin-ridden --
A land of so-called life, the incontinent libertine Eden.
‘Twas today, I’ve laid to drown but only to discover
New gills fashioned me for a life under troubled waters,
And below were fins for me to flee and move on faster.
In my new body I glide through the vastness of space,
Like a bird in flight, leaving Land without trace…
I swim farther away and further more into grace.
My abode now the ephemeral of sharks and sunken ships
In these troubled waters I dance until death’s final kiss,
Happy to have lived a merman, than a man of earthly bliss.
Submission
to 2014 INTERGENERATIONAL POETRY SLAM ELDERS AND TEEN TRACK
University of Nebraska, Omaha Nebraska
In some states I can vote, but yet afraid
I can drink alcohol, but can't rent an apartment
Some states I can marry well at 12,14, 16
But I am still a child without means
I have all the parts of an adult
Yet they of whom I do not trust
I drive a car fast, but I won't last
I bus, I just cuss then crash
I can't remember what I had for lunch last
I won't even do my own wash or dirty dishes
Cut the grass or turn off light switches
Pimples, low self esteem, nightmares video streams
Cell phone, Facebook, don't need to read books or magazines
No it all incontinent lost in elements
Give me equality, freedom without grown up stress
Let me alone dispute my age
I am free I am grown
Give me truth I am youth to have fun
Youth with no truth
Teenager forever
Can't die because I am
a teenager
a teenager forever
Until I turn twenty, twenty to one
No time for mom or dad
Again give me freedom
Without the rules and lectures
A teenager
A teen youth ager with the demands of gold and silver
I am just a Teen Youth Ager
07/20/14
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
OH!
You punched holes in my system
Now, I am incontinent
I can't hold water for a second
You blame it on indiscipline
You licked my mind
Now , I am permeable
I can't sieve immigrant thoughts
You blame it on gullibility
You dragged my true self
Now, I am a masquerader
I can't meet the world without the mask
You blame it on cowardice
You attack every step of mine
Now, I am calculative
I can't choose expediently
You blame it on Indecision
Oh Society !!!
Midnight plus fifteen, the streets come alive,
Spilling tattooed mobs, teeming motion-blurred
From the bars, karate and kung-fu moves in car parks
And upon telephone kiosk phone books.
Kebabs stinking of extra onion, chilli and garlic sauce,
Soaking up beer and chasers, churning innards;
Chinese takeaway cartons slung in gutters,
Spraying noodles and rice with random artistry.
Spiralling fumes of vindaloo, popadums and naan
Swirl, snake, samba under neon rain;
CCTV super models, skirts no more than belts
Hiked under hips, distended abdomens drooping with gravity.
Navels pierced, studded, impaled with fake silver,
Flesh faintly turning green-tinged;
The high heeled stagger continues at ankle-breaking
Precariousness; teetering and stumbling, acrobatically drunk.
Swimming heads reject the motion sickness,
And vomit starts to rise, disgorged, spattering the wet paving
With rainbows of liquid colour abstraction,
Trickled with a gleeful pale amber stress incontinent stream.
It’s easy for a casual observer to plead for escape from
This planet of the apes, but have a heart – they’re young,
Free and doomed beyond all relative conception.
Why not be cool, have fun?
Rationalisation of Explanation
Do not question
The almighty plan
For such are the reprisals of fear
That turn blind despair into adulation
The evident proof
Existent in raped women and children
Irrefutable in famished stomachs
Undisguised in all the suffering
Hangs stark and uncompromising
Humanity through centuries of historical brutality
Has treated us with its incontinent blood
And defiled every precept of love
“Nothing” has come to save us.
But still we cling
Desperate in our own life times
For some semblance of a reason
Prepared to receive the miracle
Which never comes
One day they say
Is one thousand years in the mind of God
And so
All these prayers will never be answered
Not until the human voice
For a millennia has repeated a single word
It is an existence of shame in heaven
That such cruelty
Does not comprehend
This state of being called “Human”
Of one life times capacity to be
So free and so very happy
We pass unrealised in all our potential
Having lived our lives in suffering
Nailed up and stripped to idiot faith
In some bland concept of Gods fathers day
Turns every apparent truth
Into the conceivable lies of fools
Explain if you would
The torment
Rationalise by some beliefs excuse of a plan
How God allows this to happen
Faith is a mockery
Which does not accept responsibility
and allows us to close our eyes
And continue to live in luxury
And while mankind persists in its idolatry of God
And passes the buck
To some unknown biblical saviour
Some Messiah who will receive all our sin
Half the world continues starving
Raping, warring, murdering, thirsting
Dieing of curable diseases
Judged by their colour
Living in hovels on rubbish tips
Pogroms of sectarian violence
Racial cleansing
Oil pipelines
And nationalistic patriotic flag waving
God
It is an existence of shame in heaven
That such cruelty
Does not comprehend
This state of being called Human
Of one life times capacity to be
So free and so very happily
Exultant
Proceeding further voids the non-existent warranty on your sanity remaining intact afterwards.
I feel like a shred of confetti
Anchored by cotton knotted
To a strong, steel chain
Fused with a great grain of pain
Cast in a vast castles grave
Of felled shells, long dead
Whose bones become my bed.
I really, really must confess
I use better bones for my bread
I really must confess
That bread is not the best.
I really feel like screaming
As my clenched cheeks cling
To a complicated thing
Effervescing
From my minds twisted guts
Into incontinent pants
I imagine I’m wearing.
I really, really must confess
My mind's become one mucked-up mess!
I really must confess
This mess does not smell the best.
I don’t sleep in sand beds
Or soil shorts made of thoughts
But my baking is to die for
So sign here before you taste
These sweet and sour soul cakes
Whose recipe of joy and dread
Imparts more bang than bone bread!
I really, really must confess
I love my minds mad caress
I really must confess
Its caress feels senseless.
If symptoms persist, please consult the appropriate health care provider.