Gastric Poems | Examples

my doctor said i have one eye bigger than the other

"food passes downwards into the oesophagus, 
then further down into the stomach, 
where gastric juices break it down into 
what can only be described as 
a porridge-like consistency

the then partly digested food moves through 
the small intestine (which to doctors is 
also known as the small bowel)

here, and not later, it is broken down even further so the 
nutrients can be absorbed into the blood stream

the waste products from this process are then pushed 
into the large intestine or large bowel
the liquid is absorbed 
and the left over waste forms solid stools

these collect together in the 
rectum until they are passed out of the body in 
a bowel movement."

after the man on the dance floor yelled this in my ear, 
i went back to the bar for another round

Roosters From Another Creek

Urban jungle roosters,
born-again scarecrow,
to untutored city eyes,
tawny pipit stonewall  nester,
jet black Inca dove bereft,
of dovetail on a croque monsieur,
idle bone grub crawl,
mother hen to sandy brown,
and velvet bill gazer,
from an nearby creak,
recent rural migrant now,
a tree house side kick,
chickadee a late date sitter,
on this air flock beaky natter,
or tweet between the  ice float,
edgy grey day species wield,
their sprightly ruffled  feathers,
as an orthopaedic surgeon,
and their spatula when  scraping,
rancid bark off windmill elm trees,
gastric bugle trenchermen ahoy,
while ogling a fellow common redpoll,
oh these tummy rumble diners,
will zoom in on every gourmet,
tangled wire mesh feeder station.
round and round they’ll  fly,
on zesty mission beetroot,
a cock-eyed scavenger‘s delight,
are they siblings of  a  noble  order?
white tale mountain bluebirds swopping,
habitat for granite boundary  habit,
off key off discordant choirboys,
six sided snow bird chorus,
ear splitter for tardy wakening,
they cheep religiously as if,
their only  valid  creed  was,
window squinting  prayer meets

After the Surgery

These blatant lives we lead
with our guts hanging out
between pretty words.

I remember (after the failed gastric surgery),
when gore spilled out of my prone body;
that slow unwinding of blank verse,
(the wordless made flesh) - uncoiling
in bold inarticulate sincerity.
An intestinal serpent – seeping,
and I the author of that preconscious serpent
still attempting to fill empty shells
with delusions and other ill-formed proofs
of existence.

Then from out of that open wound,
out from that that visceral self-revealing,
the pulse of my life so starkly exposed
at last, saying something -
true.

Silly Scientists Say Humans Must Stop Breathing

Silly scientists have captured 328 human breath samples. Analysis of the samples shows this gastric exhaust contains methane. Alarmed, the silly scientists say "stop breathing, or start eating a healthy diet of bugs." Silly scientists have not yet studied the emissions of human farting and its effect on Global warming.

Fast Food, Fast Death

Let’s get some pizzas nice and cheesy

Nothing to cook, life is easy

Another quick fix, just what we need

Fast food, at lightning speed.

Food can fix most of our troubles

Deliveroo, comes to our homely bubble

Stay in and they deliver

Bad for your heart, bad for your liver

A gallon of coke, quench your thirst

Rot your teeth, a trip in a hearse

Your fast-food gut expands and enlarges 

Let’s a buy a fourteen-seat sofa 

For a couple of barges. 

Look in the mirror a gastric disaster

Use some pills as a sticking plaster

Fatigue, couples the weariness of sloth

Cheese up some bread and finish the loaf.

David Cox 24/06/22

Saint Michaels War Prayer

The sound of heavy jaws munching -
an angelic weeping,
the crack of delicate wing bones.

Earlier, a listless sky trailed shreds of fear
the goodly being dragged into red cave-mouths.

"My angelica are grounded tonight," he thought.
The mechanical grinding of molars continued.
My seraphim and cherubim, all the innocence
Of long forgiven souls are in peril.

A guttural cackling rises from backyards,
from asphalt parks, and vacant lots.
The gloriously burnished, armored archangel
stands among the trash cans, great sword
held brightly aloft.

"When dawn comes creeping
this insane demonic laughter will cease,
the downed souls will rise again,
minus a few fine bones.

The tears of the half-chewed will burn
all those that prey upon them.
The demented evil doers will suffer the hell
of the dawn’s gastric flux; let them choke upon
the toxicity of our holiness."

Saint Michaels War Prayer

The sound of heavy jaws munching -
an angelic weeping,
the crack of delicate wing bones.

Earlier, a listless sky trailed shreds of fear
the goodly being dragged into red cave-mouths.

"My angelica are grounded tonight," he thought.
The mechanical grinding of molars continued.
My seraphim and cherubim, all the innocence
Of long forgiven souls are in peril.

A guttural cackling rises from backyards,
from asphalt parks, and vacant lots.
The gloriously burnished, armored archangel
stands among the trash cans, great sword
held brightly aloft.

"When dawn comes creeping
this insane demonic laughter will cease,
the downed souls will rise again,
minus a few fine bones.

The tears of the half-chewed will burn
all those that prey upon them.
The demented evil doers will suffer the hell
of the dawn’s gastric flux; let them choke upon
the toxicity of our holiness."

An Answer To Breast Cancer

Soon, it got up to Dr. Spencer
Burning incense on coppery censer 
In pursuit of a fitting answer 
To the craziest hard hitting cancer:
A line he’d toed for an ulcer 
And it result gave him for Gastric Seltzer… 

Krishna clouds their way making for a breast, 
Not for once letting be the crest, 
Incense one, Incense two, up to eleven 
In lieu of healing verses to The Heaven. 

For a doctor openly radical 
It shouldn’t often be the medical 
Nor often needful the rightly surgical, 
For cancer that could shame the methodical.

Little Green Army

When I was much younger than you,
my army was green.
Those little men could be wounded,
dog teeth could maim them, eat them -
only after hours of canine gastric warfare
could they be rescued.

Once they charged to take a beach.
The tide rushed in,
most could only swim in a bath tub.
Most were swept away.
It was a military disaster.
Dog chewed-up the rest of em.

Jesus Is the Son-Sun and He Gives Us Light-Life-

Old flight of light
Array distance
Blacken paths way

Rays of spiraling
Planetary resistance
Global warming

Brings about universal discerning
Darkest blackened gastric light
Awakening the spark

Open the darkness night
Shine On Son of light
Out of the pits death darkest site
From the pits of the darkest hell
From the blacken depths of sin we be held

The Sun rises the true Son Jesus Christ
He calms. He comes to bring us light and life


12/26/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021

Next Time Not So Hasty

Mr. and Mrs. Claus were half of their weight
They had gastric bypass, for they could not wait
Their legs were skinny, their elbows bony now.
No one recognized them, they were not a wow.

They don’t look healthy, the children said.
They look like they are on their way to dead.
We don’t feel that great either said Santa Claus.
Maybe next time before we try surgery, we will pause.

Little Green Men

My soldiers are plastic
but they can be wounded
dog teeth maim them, eat them,
only after hours of gastric warfare
can they be rescued.

Today they charge to take a beach.
daring death at every turn.

Tidal waves rush in,
most can only swim in bath tubs.
It’s a military disaster.

The dog dives into the sea
snaps at the waves.

I can only hope 
there are survivors
even if they’re inside
the dog again.

Accelerant Tears

She cries over broken rearview things,
sideway decisions 
that can never be back pedal changed
Sad memories be gastric 
fumes of the last emotional wrong turn
Past petrol vapors 
igniting present date swerve heartburn

Pulse accelerant tears 
kindle sorrowful thoughts:
Remembrance of broken bosom pain
Wet pillow skid years,
trapped temporally aught 
behind the wheel of misfortune flame

She tries to get over the unsafe bridge of sighs;
but blurred vision
won’t let the past hurt go, it clearly never dies
Gasp recollection of accidental words,
fatal fumes of the last argumentive wrong turn
Regret fueled vapors
sparks a future spinster fate swerve heartburn

Accelerant tears
pulsating ask the tint rearview mirror,
who’s at fault?
Speed dial relationship got single digital shattered, very hastily
Wet hanky fears
make the crossroad choice less clearer,
all for naught
Old flames of guilt melt merging desire, now running on empty

The City Sings Its Song

The city sings its song,
luring me to belong
to an orchestra of many faces,
living within tight places,
an efficiency on the tenth floor
where I hear my neighbors snore,
smells of spaghetti and garlic bread
linger throughout hallway making me dread
microwaving a T.V. dinner with plastic
reminding me of my uncomfortable gastric
indigestion which lasts for a day
and finally goes away and does not stay.

The city sings its song
to me who steps along
on its dirty sidewalks with cracks,
being weed-free it lacks,
rushing to catch a taxi or bus,
waving away and making a fuss,
I am in a perpetual hurry.
like a busy-body squirrel in a scurry,
all my self-importance doesn't matter,
looking at my watch only to splatter
on the city pavement when hit by a car,
eventually leaving the hospital with a long scar.
as the city sings its song,
it is truly about all the things gone wrong.

Variety

A meal with lots of choices
Is the kind I like to serve
For everyone will find,
Right from the very first hors d’oeuvre

At least one food that’s tasty
Since variety allows
Some tidbits to remain untouched
While others earn some Wows!

It’s hard to hide displeasure
If the items on your plate
Comprise a gastric palette
Made of victuals you hate.

The choices on my table
All are geared, though, to my taste
So whatever guests don’t finish
Surely will not go to waste.

• Short Gastric Poems
• Famous Gastric Poems
• Best Gastric Poems
• Read Gastric Poems
• Long Gastric Poems
• Gastric Quotes