Long Diarrhea Poems

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Withdrawals

Trigger warning ??????????

This was a pretty hard piece to compile, and definitely a personal piece to post but my hope is it may reach someone who needs it. 

Withdrawals 

The pain is indescribable, but with my words I can but try,
To describe the hell on earth that withdrawals will supply, 
It covers every single miniscule molecule of every one of your bodies cells 
From every hair follicle to each tip of every toe, your head rings like orchestral bells 
You can't concentrate in fact you simply can't think as your skin begins crawling 
You want to cry but your eyes cannot even weep, you cry out but no tears come falling,
While the sensation of an infestation begins to infest you under your skin, 
Your every muscle has lost its strength and then the sickness and diarrhea begins, 
Beads of sweat trickle down from your face, 
Yet your bitterly cold, no matter how many layers the shivers continue to play chase 
They penetrate right down to the bone and you cannot hide the inevitable shaking 
Try as you might because of your body's unbearable aching, 
It's like a baseball bat was used to literally batter you, 
Nothing helps to sooth any of the pains your being subjected to 
You find yourself contemplating things you'd never thought you'd do, 
This poison is like the devil himself whispering in your ear he's cunning acting like a saviour 
But it's evil plotting conspiring against you talking you into failure, 
Just one hit and you'll feel so much better, don't suffer he repeats and replies, 
While the people who love me my family are the angels shouting loudly rallying I hear there cries
And it's now a game of tennis my head is the tennis ball, back and forth you can't construe 
You contemplate continuously, do I have the strength or the willpower to see this through,
Or will the devil on my shoulder finally conquer and prevail taking my soul back with him 
Back to the depths of hell from which I came which was grim, 
But failure would mean I would never be free of this addiction of this disease, of this affliction,  
Therefore failure isn't even an actual option? 
The weeks of hell you endure of withdrawals comes with the greatest reward you could ask for
Freedom, of the mind, the body and soul, withstand the biggest test of your life because for sure, 
You've got so much more to live for!
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


My Roomie

Boyd and I graduated from high school 
Then college roommates; we thought that was cool  
Texas A and M became our new home 
Bunk beds in a dorm room without any phone

It’s a military college, of course
You’re either in the Army or Air Force
And there’s a rivalry between the two
And things just might get out-of-hand, it’s true

At times, it was fun to sing songs at night
I played the uke; Boyd sang harmony tight
We acquired that Homer & Jethro sound
When singing their songs, we acted like clowns

We started writing new lyrics to songs
Making a point with words that were wrong
On day Boyd said, “I got a great idea”
A song to give the Air Force diarrhea

We worked it hard and finally got a wrap
The song “Hey Joe” changed into “Hey Aircrap”
The lyrics turned out great and was quite a slam
When our seniors heard it, they said, “Hot Damn!”
 
“At three AM, come ready and in-form!”
“To broadcast that song to the Air Force dorms”
We practiced the song and we were all set
Boyd said I think we’re as good we’ll get

A PA system aimed at the angle
To hit their dorms across the Quadrangle
Two speakers so big they could raise the dead
Cranked it all up till it was in the red

They said, “Charlie and Boyd, you’re on the air”
“Just give sing it into the microphone there”
We “let it rip” and everything worked fine
Woke everyone, just like they had in mind

Lights were being turned on in every dorm
Out all the doors from the dorms they stormed
With trash cans full of water; quite a sight!
An Army versus Air Force water fight!

Watched from our window and didn’t get wet
We started something that we may regret
Then we entered the Aggie Talent show
Singing Homer and Jethro stuff, you know

When we started our performance on stage
Half the audience was screaming with rage
They were yelling, “We want the Aircrap song”
We caved in and sang it and that was wrong

The words of the song were really too strong
For a Talent Show they didn’t belong
You know, I think we could have been winner
 A reprimand instead for the sinner

Still these are highlights of my freshman year
I’d do it all over, let’s make that clear
And Boyd, the best roomie without a doubt
Wanted him to know, so I wrote this out
Form: Quatrain

The Root Cause

Sometimes, better to dig it up
Right from the root
And expose it to daylight
Cos' it's not good for a man to sleep all day
And not wake up to his responsibilities

It's not normal
If he pushes his wife out to the street
To hustle and to fend for the family
My son
Something has gone terribly wrong

The head has been cut-off
The crown of honour removed
You can no longer tame your own wife
when she goes ire
Shouting on top of the roof

I feed you, cloth you,
Go out all day to work
And you lay back at home
Can't pick up a stick of broom
Can't sweep the house
You didn't clean the toilet
You didn't wash the dishes
You are good for nothing

My son
Which ear can hear these things and not tingle
Which stomach can take it and not have diarrhea

For nothing kills a man so quickly than a wife's abuse
It's more poisonous than a viper's sting
It's like a dagger stabbed deep into his heart
When a wife crosses her legs very tight
And refuse to open for her own husband
It's not normal,  It's not right

My son
Something has gone terribly wrong
She has found another man
She has found a love nest
A home away from home

She returns late, goes to night vigil
And before your very eyes
Your wife flirt around
Selling her own body
And buying pity with her tongues
My husband is dead
He is no longer a man
 He's now a ghost of himself

My son
Which brain can ponder on these things
And not have migraine
Which eyes can see such abomination
And not weep blood

When a man is weak and listless
When his energy fails him
When he withdraws from the fight for life
And give up trying
It means his head has been captured
And now he's a walking corpse

All misfortune has root
There is no smoke without fire
So dig deep, right into the root
To discover the true cause of your failures

My son
It could be arrows from enemies within
There's no medicine that can cure ancestral curse
None can cure a father's curse
When a man soil his hands in murky waters
When his wife cooks up concoction that turn him into a nincompoop

When a step mother's witchcraft enchantments
Keep steering his soul in a pot of fire
There's no medicine man that can deliver him from the spell
Except by fasting and praying

Premium Member A Pirates Life For Me- For Contest

Here we are in 1650, which is ten minutes to five
swing the wheel to the West, which is left,
put your sun cream away, man the mizzen and the stays
as we set off for some murder and some theft.

You'll find us as your hosts on the sunny Barbary Coast
and from there we venture forth to ply our trade
we've been out leaving them for dead from the Atlantic to the Med
before we skittle off back home our fortunes made

With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days

As I previously stated we all get inebriated
from our copious imbibing of the grog
our excuse is there's no Cola in the bars of Hispaniola
which is why we need the hair of the dog

With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days

Got a woman in Bermuda and another in Tortuga
and they give me lots of lovin' for some coins
and although they're very foxy they're just both a pair of doxies
which I'm sure explains the rash around me groin

With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days

Now we're really no buffoons when it comes down to doubloons
and our treasure chests are burstin' at the seams
then old Blackbeard started spouting about doing our accounting
so I said (before I shot him) 'in your dreams'

(ye chorus)

As we skirmish the Atlantic I was starting to get frantic
since the one thing on my voyage I've always feared
is the men who've not been coming for a while across some women
have all started wearing lipstick, which is weird

(arr, the chorus again)

Well it's reached that point me hearties where we anchor down and party
so me shipmates here on board I'd like to thank
though the mix of food and beer has now given me diarrhea
which is why I've made our cook just walk the plank

(for thee last time, chorus, arrrr)

September 17th 2015, 'A pirate's life for me' contest, sponsor Kelly Deschler

(Author's note- there are several spellings of diarrhea, but it doesn't matter, they all have 'arr' in 'em, me hearties)
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.

Day of Death Embarrassment and Condiments

To say today has been a strange day would be an understatement. It started off this morning when I went into the den where our eldest cat, Paint, was meowing up a storm. I petted her head a few times and no joke she keeled over and died right then and there. We were kinda expecting it but damn what a way to start the day. 
A few hours later I had an appointment to inspect a truck for a family and nobody speaks English except the kindergartener. I pull up to their house and this yard is a mess. Trash everywhere. I see the truck I needed to inspect parked in the yard and the cutest looking little sleeping puppy curled up next to the front tire and yep you guessed it...I go straight to ’selfie with an unsuspecting dog mode’. Here I am kneeling down trynna get the best angle for the perfect selfie and reach out to pet the pooch and this dog is cold and stiff as a rock. Just then the entire family (Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents 2nd and 3rd cousins) pours out of the front door and here I am hovered over their dog trying to explain to a bunch of people who don’t speak a lick of English that their dog is dead. Stupid me is pointing at the dog while pretending to slit my throat...the international sign for your dog is dead ????? The Mexican father reached down and pokes the dog then starts jabbering something about El Diablo and giving me the stank eye. The grandmother breaks out her rosary beads and begins saying the Lord’s Prayer and finally the English speaking preschooler comes toddling out and interprets for me....I didn’t kill your dog! I just want to get the hell out of there so I begin taking photos of the truck. Here comes the funny part. I accidentally step on either a tarter sauce or ranch dressing condiment container and produced what sounded like explosive diarrhea and spewed white looking pelican  all over everybody’s pants and shoes. The toddler giggles and I just grin and keep on keepin on. Fast forward to the end of the day I’m digging a hole to bury my cat ‘paint’ and out of the ten acres we own I pick the exact same spot I buried another cat-dog-chicken or chupacabra a decade earlier and there’s bones and ribs everywhere. Anywho I feel like I need a shot of tequila or twelve.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member I Come Before You

I come before you, proclaiming you're Brother
Or Sister in Christ's death, that Eve was our Mother
Though you claim (in faith too) that my Truth’s your falsehood!
If all faith’s just faith, how can we in our childhood
Claim ‘Wisdom’ of adults (a goal that's aspired to,
Not some fait accompli)! Give grace to a man who
With some trepidation, bares what he's learned, naked,
As grounds for discussion! Let me serve the wicked
(That I too am one of) in poetry's fashion!
Oh, call me a fool? Let Hate die in my passion!'

Bible says (Science proves), "Eve's womb defines man,"
Shared genes though are found in all Life. (“This is God's plan?”
You laugh!) Is the joke not far bigger? Life's Stardust
From get-go! Is Life on parade more like gene rust
Or diamonds? 'Survival?' That's God's best idea?
Our God’s just utopian, tongue diarrhea?
Some days I think one way, the next, my mind wanders:
The subject is vast and men better responders
To divots on ‘fairways’ than potholes on highways,
Like sheep who've lost shepherd, we're skilled more at segues!

Less than three minute's we toil (on our best days),
Before our minds jerk off most trails that weak thought's blaze!
Today if some gloom overshadows our sadness
When Love seems to die, is it due to some badness!
Or more linked to seasons of every blossom?
You’re sure all friends’ deaths aren’t just souls who play possum?
Is God who’s behind this? Not souls’ choice I’m guessing,
My feelings get stretched past sane ends! (I’m confessing!)
But let me not fear that a soul’s not God’s gifting
As long as what muse flows through pen is uplifting!
 
Let what creates in Love cry when it’s absent!
More grownups then grok that our Truth’s adolescent,
The fragrance of God needs more gifting to master,
The depth of God’s Love more abyss to best pastor!
What Majesty makes no attempt at concealing
Dim senses discern as four walls, floor, and ceiling.
God’s light needs no ‘ether,’ but sound drowns in ‘vacuum.’
Does intellect dream it is Spirit in costume?
If flags (you salute) pose a threat to Mom's litter,
It's Fool's Bling you worship (God’s Truth’s more than glitter)!


Brian Johnston
21st of June in 2019
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Water, Water

Water     /     Water
              New Hamburg, Ontario         Rubkuai village, South Sudan


                                   locals rise          locals starve 
       with the river, heed warnings          where once there was a river, 
                to keep from its banks           travel along arid banks

                 thirty thousand gallons          a tanker arrives with a few gallons
                         of unwanted rain          rain is worth all limbs
                                      burdens          how burdened the village —
                                storm drains          the drought drains life from fields

    this summer, filled sport bottles          this summer 
                 will be abandoned near         will crust tongues
                                 splash pads,         as the dying
         where saturated children riot         tend to the dead
                 in mist & spray, soak in         inconsolable mothers silently
                  the never-ending fount         riot [eyes too dry to mist
                        until fingers prune,         can still spray bullets
                                    until thirst          or thirst for just one more look
                     sends them skipping          as irises prune in the sun]

                    cars gleam and grass          grass is a memory
                         springs underfoot;         & graves spring up underfoot
                       the bridge is power-         like emaciated bridges 
   washed, as though the downpour          nothing stops the downpour 
                              hadn’t flooded          of diarrhea — the filth binds   
                                spider’s webs         cholera’s web

         people shower, run half-filled           people kneel for droplets
    dishwashers & laundry machines,          the desert launders
                           a kettle screams           the jawbone
                                 for someone,          of the newest ghost who still
                             anyone to listen          listens, waits, for anyone

Land Filled With

Plague of lies,
froggy croaks untrue
Swarm of flies
surround Capitol dungHills
Infectious hope buzz kill:
Leftover piles of shill legislative bills
that don’t do  do right

There should be no nose mystery,
stink of deceit fills the land

Brown lip locust wings
avarice ride 
on a grifter breeze
Devouring all of the green
Dissimulation policies of  greed
be blowing 
turd raspberries
in the wind
This puff pestilence is putrid exhalation X brand

There should be no Pinocchio mystery,
rotten Would of falsehood 
burns lung pollute-y
Foul breath forestry smokescreen fills the land

Cursed sour ground sound
is coming in waves
Flood of maggot noise abound
Blanket of little white **** snow job
is toilet tissue swirling around
Coming down royal flush
depressingly hard
Pain threshold too low to withstand

There should nascent be ... nay, no nasal mystery — 
Veracity murrain miry
is the excrement sand which fills the land

Hazardous Waste tax material
has been poll sewage, 
cesspool sinking below 
the average Joe Citizen cranial

Yes Land filled with lies,
do  do have a most wretched smell
But[t] toadies ain’t pocket sorry enough
about how honesty died
Croc ballot tears, every four years, don’t vote eulogize

Yes minions 
got such lice, dysentery lips
Their squirmy truth
is always diarrhea leaping DeLorean
Back to the feces Future

To a broken promise Land filled 
with dumpster dregs 
of nothing 
but[t] frog skeletons

Amphibian vow voices croaking
those empty chest organs
Howl flickering full be their guts rotting!

Lying shamelessly on hallow divided ground,
naked telly truth
went into tooth decay hiding

Bellyaching dirt went spit turd belly up

As dem/‘publican Kermits would 
Jiminy cricket say: “Dey(light) don’t need no
dark stinking proof”

Those midnight jumpers
love spit mooning tongue sticky shade 
un’er a halitosis roof

In a land filled with rank vapors insincere,
ain’t no pig manure  methane doubt,
you’ll be pathologically told:

Smoggy talk got put on hold,
while the contagious shouts thin out ...
Rows of zeroes didn’t magically disappear

Ten Thousand Torturously Terrible Tom's Tidbits (Two)

12)Coddle- Two fish enrapt in love.

13)Mustard- A diarrhea victim who can wait no longer.

14)Jam Session- A gathering of sweet-toothed weirdos with various jams and 
jellies.

15)Coffee Table- An occasional table made of stale and hard coffee beans.

16)Condom- A very stupid prisoner.

17)Confederate- An inmate who nourishes his cellmate with food he sneaks 
from the mess hall.

18)Condiment- A mint left on the pillow of Condolezza Rice's hotel room bed.

19)Metaphor- The reason you met her.

20)Meteor Shower- Cleaning meteors in your shower.

21)Osmosis- A female relative of the Osmond Brothers.

22)Gradute- A successfully educated studend ingested by a cannibal.

23)Grab Bag- A purse snatcher's job.

24)Wind Instrument- A guitar lifted and tossed in a hurricane.

25)Destitute- A broke prostitute.

26)Easygoing- Being tied in a wheelchair and pushed down the steepest street 
in San Francisco.

27)Castrated- Judging who belongs in what pecking order in the movie cast.

28)Animosity- Dislike of mice.

29)Barn Dance- A group of barns dancing in a hurricane.

30)Carpeting- Gently stroking an automobile you love.

31)Chirk- A Cherokee idiot.

32)Coddle- Embracing your fish prior to frying.

33)Extraterrestials- Coming from another planet, or from Camden, New Jersey.

34)Hail Mary- A religious woman bombarded in a hail storm.

35)Hair Dresser- The absurd practice of putting dresses on one's head.

36)Homely- When poor ugly Lee is home.

37)Antacid- A psychological hallucinogenic drug favoered by hippy garden 
insects.

38)Moron- An overdressed person of limited intelligence with far too much 
cologne on.

39)Precession- The last days leading up to an economic downturn.

40)Martial Arts- Paintings done by Western town Sheriffs.

41)Spouse- A married rodent.

42)Consort- Dividing criminals by crime categories.

43)Debaunchery- When de bunch of us Brooklyn guys goes out on de town.

44)Drag Queen- When us guys from Brooklyn beat up and haul around 
somebuddy from Queens.

45)Dragoon- Da dumb guy from Queens dat we got above.
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Burlesque

Premium Member Influent Infused Filled With Him -My Spokenword

Once I was infrequent hard to pass ;
As God's righteous movement in my heart and my chest;
Caught up in mine spirit soul dysfunction;
Captured heart beating in my chest;
Why am I constipated with the world's thoughts;
I believe that I believe beliefs attitudes can't be brought;
Feelings emotions travel through the interstate highways of my mind and yet;

Subconsciously,  I am abundantly yet still thinking;
reasoning what is my purpose I know my purpose;
And know I ain't been drinking, don't need no control substances to catch feelings;
There're mine, those of yesterday and tomorrows past through the glass;
Outwardly now I've forgotten;
But yesterdays life past stored, becomes tomorrow lessons;

Free will choices, yet in still you have three voices;
Whose do you hear, which one the quiet quietest ;
How I'm I chosen am I loved I know I am loved;
 I'm a three-part being housed in a fleshly shell;
But am I instinct with Spirit soul body praise am I aware;
 of the right order 

Am I a witness witnessing believer more than with My soul;
But the real meaning in my spirit purpose is it love, it's love His love;
But yet through life's toils all along my body to rule;
When my spirit the center of me,  should be the reverence of me balanced;
And my soul surrounds my heart endowed with due process;
I am His Child

Captured heart beating in my chest;
Why am I constipated with the world's thoughts;
I believe that I believe beliefs attitudes can't be brought;
Feelings emotions travel through the interstate highways of my mind and yet, 
I fly I'm above in the heavenlies looking down with eagle eyes and I see what transpires 
And I fly even  higher I am God's child I am loose of this world, I am His Child;

Now I am influent infused filled with Him; 
Diarrhea out my sins, been washed and cleansed;
Hung, laid up high on the cross, them there those my sins;
I'm a new vessel, under immediate construction;
Potholes been sealed I am influent infused filled with Him;


11/29/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022

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