I ate;
I ache;
Now I smell up the air;
passing those flatulent gassy breeze;
Inhaling warm air, burping a bleach;
Constipated, concentrated dreams;
Reality pinching me at the seems;
Evacuated;
Re-leaved myself;
Now I deposited wasted products;
Inhaling warm air, burping a bleach;
Biodegradable stents;
Reality pinching me at the seems;
Constipated, concentrated dreams;
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018 ©
11/15/18
Every now and then,the words once easy flowing
hold back from revealing what I'm knowing
and lost I am to where this poem was going..
Building in significance
the words are lost to all innocence
release is a failure of intended diligence
and I'm trapped in my losing indifference.
Perhaps a laxative would work as a stimulus,
release and expel me from this chrysalis,
provide some imagery of dreamings less frivolous
excuse me while I get a little mischievous.
In this intense consternation
every word lies in constipation
seeking is rigidly intensified
and proceeds with force and agitation
as the thoughts remain anesthetized.
An in-patient named Mustapha Dump
Said his faeces were wedged in a lump
His diet must improve
So the blockage can move
Or his treatment’s a huge suction pump!
08-29-17
call me politically constipated cause I couldn’t give a ****, I just stick with the positive and steer straight clear of it.
I’m a conspiracy theorist with a mental condition, it’s called critical thinking and I actually listen.
listen to understand not listen to answer, because debating to argue is conversational cancer.
speak what you mean, what you feel in your heart, if it’s true to you no one can pick it apart.
people are just people, separation is man made, we just have to break the cycle in which society has stayed.
turning down the volume
that is what i am thinking as i am blinking
grabbing the last bottle of cream soda
that is my mental escape from a wrath i cannot comprehend
imagining you naked and ready to go down
that is the way i uplift myself while you are bringing me down
the grenade in my brain is on the brink of exploding
the balloon of my self esteem is at the dangerous edge of imploding
the merger of the two is unseen due to the sour blindness of the moment
the spittle burns like a near death experience on Christmas day
the accusations decapitate like a merciless machete moonlighting
the end is the beginning of the minuscule additional
our love has been uprooted by a hurricane so petty and unnecessary
speechlessness post descension is the new loquatious
bye bye sweet valentine era....it was nice pre-post-construction
there was a kidder who sat on a *hitter
he pushed long and hard for he was no quitter
but nothing came out
he left with a pout
that gritty old kidder was named Tex Ritter
One day he was happy and things were going smooth.
But then he died because his bowels wouldn't move.
He tried different laxatives but he couldn't use the bathroom.
He got so backed up that this poor man's life was doomed.
People told him to go to the hospital but sadly he refused.
He would've listened if he'd known that his life was something that he'd lose.
Now his family and friends mourn because of this devastation.
He didn't know that he would die because of constipation.
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