my ankles are fat
I google this
possible heart disease
well, ain’t that a kiss!
I get a pain in my chest
verification to some
I might be having a heart attack
I chew some Asper-gum
problems
knotty, stressful
resolving, tackling, diagnosing
conundrums, complexities, result, ideas
proposing, brainstorming, solving
solutions
Do you think we’re the sort of girls to sit around on a Sunday night?
EAH (loud buzzer sound) you’d be wrong!!
What’s the opposite of seasonal depression - seasonal euphoria?
I’m self-diagnosing here, but I think I’ve got it.
I have all the symptoms:
Excessive happiness: a level of joy statistically improbable.
Compulsive smiling: grinning under the most mundane circumstances.
Irrational optimism: the feeling everything will turn out all right.
Compulsive socializing: relentlessly engaging in parties and outings.
Impulsive behavior: capricious decisions that lead to.. stuff.
Difficulty focusing: trouble concentrating on ‘serious subjects.’
Increased appetites: A craving for.. everything fun.
I have to call it. The symptoms are limpid, my diagnosis is:
Summer, seasonal euphoria, and it feels pretty good.
.
.
Songs for this:
Rooftop by Kelly Jones
The Game of Love by Katrina & the Waves
DeadBeat Club by The B-52s
The juices are flowing
Out my butt it’s flowing
The stink surely is growing
The end is near i am hoping
The poos are floating
As they keep going
I begin to wonder will it ever stop exploding
For the pain has me moaning
On my phone diagnosing
The research is undergoing
My ignorance is showing
For I don’t know why my butt is unloading
The doctor call i continue postponing
As my juices stay a flowing…
If you had one year of love,
and then you had to say adios,
should you be glad or morose?
Sure, if it ends, it’s not what I’d hoped,
we just weren’t destined to be betrothed.
We had fun, we were close and jocose,
we snogged until we practically choked,
and we did ALL the fun things that were gross,
but our forte was that we felt safe, I suppose.
Now, I’m not saying it’s over, but I tend to diagnose things
and while I wouldn’t say that we love overdosed,
I would guess that we’ve shared more love than most.
Just a small but nagging pain
that wouldn’t go away,
but ‘she’ll be right’- so I thought,
until my judgment day.
My judgment day was not the end;
no not eternal life,
it was the day I’m diagnosed
to mention I’m in strife.
Beneath the surface questions rise.
Could I be dying? Will I live?
As I consider what may be,
and all is negative.
And negative I’m told is bad,
but how else can I feel!
I’m diagnosed - but deep inside,
I don’t believe it’s real.
And yet the folk I run beside
who know my feeling well,
forever talk the positive …
dismissing what is hell.
And as each day is passing by
since diagnosing took my breath.
The best advice I have so far -
is diagnosis isn’t death!
Obviously it is apparent he said.
Vitally clear.
Plain to see.
What is? I asked him.
That child is emotionally disturbed, he announced.
I was shocked, walking away quickly.
I am not qualified to diagnose
And yet he is?
And with confidence.
Who? You ask.
Bag boy at the grocery store.
Sixteen knows everything though.
I had almost forgotten that.
I smiled, remembering, turned and waved.
But he was in the throes of diagnosing another child.
Smoothly Be Coasting
If your imagination I was to go beyond,
Would of my poems you still be fond
Even though feeble found myself being
Your made my poem well worth reading.
And if my kind soul you shall sustain
Each and all of my poems will remain
Deep in your adorable heart and one day
Come out to be read they will find a way.
Through my poems continue to plow through
And eventually now knowing how great you
Are at reading my poems and diagnosing
Down hill writing poems will smoothly be coasting.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
PS. For my new readers whose comments
I love so much.
Here is the ballad of Web MD,
Self-diagnosing terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.
Let's do our own diagnosis,
Teach yourself self-hypnosis,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.
Let's sing our ballad of Web MD,
Sure we've got terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.
That was the ballad of Web MD,
What are today's self-diagnoses?
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond!
I've met doctors who have played the know it all role,
Who thought they knew all there was to know,
To listen to their hearts seemed a waste of their time,
Diagnosing a persons heart without even really hearing their cries,
This behavior disturbed me to no end,
Not wanting to share because of this attitude, can you really blame them,
They've already been labeled so why even try,
To take the time to look into their eyes,
To get to know them and be their friend,
Was not a part of their job description,
I would NEVER want that prestigious degree,
Thanks,,but NO THANKS, I'll wash dishes gratefully,
All the money in the world can't buy,
The love that I saw in their eyes,
When I look back to when I wanted to go back to college,
To get paid for my passion, I don't think I would want it!
I did not know then what gods there were
And was never concerned or thought about
But I do know for certain now
He can come to us to any form.
I had been attacked by the dragon “cancer”
Threatening to take away *my talent to speak.
I heard his voice, “Come unto me and rest”
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down thy
Head upon my lap, don’t be sad or downcast”.
I did not see him positively in any of his form
But I did feel him in a divine way never felt before.
He came to me as a doctor diagnosing earlier
Giving many years to live and roam the world over
To see and to play with my grand children
As if that’s not all, shortly with great grand children.
That was the day He gave me the perfect health
And relief from suffering, turmoil and labor.
*• Cancer of the Vocal Chords ( in 1994)
+++
January 30, 2015
Second Place win
Contest: This is the day the Lord gave
Before diagnosing yourself with low self esteem
or maybe possibly with depression,
first make sure that you're not surrounded by assholes.
They can cause you to display the very same symptoms.
Stress fractures
nerves worried faces
diagnosing ourselves
News bad good and bad flow from each
room
tears joy anxiety glee
Surgeons nurses physicians assistants
in out Xray MRI electro cardiogram
mumbles groans laughs
pains worries
anti-inflammatory analgesic ablation
bedside manner compassion
stoic silence brave exterior
resilient fragile young old
tired of hurting hurting tired
sterile antiseptic
STAT
replacement rehab rejuvenate rectify
Why me
biohazard no trash
bad magazines charts
forms forms forms
Hipa compliance
Hip replacement
shoulder pain
smolders
code blue code black
co-pay
I am in awe of my sisters
nieces
writers, poets, songwriters, musicians
physicians
so creative every way
sewing cooking writing publishing, diagnosing curing
moving the world in a better way
unafraid of a sewing machind or a rejection letter
they move on
medical school in her 30's
two pubished novels
designs stationary
designs baby clothes
writes, travels, performs her own songs
completely unafraid
throwing themselves
into their lives.
Mind games with my shrink.
Only giving me seconds to think.
His or my sanity on the brink.
Telling him what he wants to hear.
So these psychotic thoughts don't interfere.
I love a profession where all you do is ask questions.
I see your obsession.
Diagnosing patients.
With the power of suggestion.
Mocking once again.
Your profession.
So continue with your notes and antidotes.
On how to fix a fairy tale gone wrong.
So incarcerate me to the nearest psych ward.
At least with the nuts I won't be bored.
Your heart is in the right place but your dealing with a head case.
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