Best Inflammatory Poems
Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD)
Are you upset by stomach pains
Diarrhea and bad cramps
Are you so dog-gone tired
You can’t even outrun your Gramps
Have you tried all the common cure-alls?
Medication - - - therapy
Massage and acupuncture
But relief just ain’t to be
Then perhaps you are finally ready
For a cure that some find quite weird
To counter your bad IBD
That the FDA still hasn’t cleared
See they think that an imbalance
Of bacteria within your body
Causes inflammation
And your stomach gets all knotty
So to fix that bad imbalance
Here’s what some say to do
Insert some helpful microbes
From someone’s healthy poo
Yes – I said from someone’s poop
A relative or somebody close
Just a pinch within the cheeks
Would be a healthy dose
It’s now trending in America
This desperate D Y I
If you suffer from this IBD
You just might give it a try
They are running tests in Canada
To evaluate and study
To see if fecal implants
Will cure or harm somebody
But there are those who’ve tried it
And swear it did the trick
No longer show the symptoms
No longer feel that sick
Now your doctor won’t approve it
Your friends will think you’re nuts
Passing fecal matter
The wrong way through your butts
But they say that just like blood banks
There will be donor centers too
Where healthy individuals
Can dump off healthy poo
Don’t ask me to assist you
Back where the sun don’t shine
But you can have a handful
Of any poo of mine
I don’t write this to belittle
The pain you’re going through
But I read this on the internet
So I know it must be true
And it just got me thinking
This might help someone like you
Another true news item from your Uncle Mike
Limericks by definition are meant to be naughty
Some even say they're meant to be bawdy
So going by the rules
And trying not to drool
Gonna rely on love instead of inflammatory
not fit for news print
words to set your heart on fire~
poetic license
***
Hours nibble at a back strain.
Tenuous strings were pulled
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how weak and fragile
you are. How vulnerable to
these ancient red tides within
that can bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.
The body is quartered by straining horses,
a torture of disruption
condemning the spine to the wrenching rack.
After the sudden blind attack
sharp incisions tear apart and spasm,
keep you shuffling into dark corners
where ghosts groan over their
twisted bones.
Crab-walking time whittles away
at your shrunken being.
You feel as if you are bottled by water,
a sloshing on a rocking skateboard,
wakes crash - splashes of awareness
witnessing a sudden fragility,
the awkward creaking of your soul
being stretched too taut
on its desiccated elastic band.
Hours nibble at a back strain.
Tenuous strings were tugged
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how weak and fragile
you are. How vulnerable to
those ancient red tides within
that can bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.
Quartered by straining horses,
neural fibers alliterate a thrumming fugue
upon a desiccated elastic band;
one now stretched far too taut.