Memories of us in past life,
Still haunts me in quiet nights.
Panicking ,shivering,silently waiting for the light;
Braces the pain all along the lost times.
I fight ,I endure;
I cry ,I ensure;
Like paracetamol I was cure;
Now wondering were you sure?
First priority above y'all,
Now mean nothing...not at all;
I can't believe whatever you say,
My heart says it all.
You left me and I got scared,
All I wanted is some time to spend;
Now bond got weak just like a thread,
So everything between us feels like dead.
Categories:
paracetamol, betrayal, deep, memorial, memory,
Form: Rhyme
Its here the thing we all fear,
The apocalypse is near,
The devils spurn has risen,
Trapping us in our homes like prisons,
To plague our planet already broken,
Is it retaliating, squeezing our lungs chocking,
Like the black death the plague upon our people,
Swooping, stealing the lives of the weak and feeble.
The most innocent are victims of the virus,
A sickening twist to this sickness sent to us,
From an unholy ghastly maker,
This is not the handy work of any saviour.
Is it a clense of the human race,
A government conspiracy for goodness sakes,
Bats are where it supposedly derives,
A rodent of the night skies,
Despite everyone's efforts its spreading like flies,
No loo roll paracetamol or thermoeter will scare it away,
It looks like it plans to stay,Just like an unwanted guest, Who's warn out its stay, so I'll guess I'll be the first to say
Welcome Corona virus to the UK.
Categories:
paracetamol, care, death, sick, society,
Form: Rhyme
True Story
Today was Doctor's visit
No 3
You see my Mum now struggles walking
Where as 6 month's ago she walked
more than me like she was 23
And 3 visits later seen by 3 different
Doctor's
Where are we at now ?
She resembles her actual age of 70
rather than her old sprightly 23
She still work's a 5 day week
6am till 4pm Monday to Friday
And yes she wants to carry on
but unfortunately without medical
help the game is up
But after 3 visits with 3 different Doctor's she is no better off
Confined to a walking stick and
good Samaritans who help
a temporary solution at best with
2 week's off with a Doctor's note
Leaving armed with the knowledge
nothing fixed the problem still persists
Her employment sanity and independence at stake
And after appointment and Doctor
No 3
Not a single pill hope nor resolution
to hang on 2
Might as well just have taken 2
Paracetamol as a Placebo
Must be scary at 70 year's old
when you ask but receive no help
Because what is the alternative
When there is no where left to turn next
Categories:
paracetamol, health, slam,
Form: Free verse
The thrill of winning feels real
I’m chuffed coz I closed the deal
These haters got nothing on me
I told them that they can have all chips
Be it poor or rich
I’ll rather watch my six
Then be fingered for a snitch
I’ll be turning tricks
and be on a constant fix
On paracetamol or morpheme
Kind of drowsy and red eyed
Whole week in a bed I lied
An ulcer to leg left me in pain
Lying here all alone
I have to know that God sits on the throne
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
Every second I waste is more than I can take no more
Tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you expecting of me
Put under the pressure walking in your shoes
All I want is to be more like me and less like you...
Categories:
paracetamol, change, character, conflict, courage,
Form: I do not know?
Sitting in the frigid chapel every Wednesday morning,
Three hours of numbing speech and staring up
At fragmented glass and intricate light.
Talk of people peeling themselves apart,
Shattering themselves from bridges over water.
The boy found unconscious in the cemetery
A trail of clothes and paracetamol packets.
People plummeting through water and onto tracks
Used to flow through my dreams, cracking
the surface of sleep.
Today only the icy weight
in my chest and nausea
To hear words unfaltering spoken
of broken things;
Abusive fathers, prisoners,
strangled toddlers,
Scissor stabbed hands and
insects creeping beneath
the surface of skin.
But we sit in the chapel
And clasp our hands
Against the cold.
I tell myself,
It is a story
Or something
seen through distorted glass.
Categories:
paracetamol, conflict, life, perspective, society,
Form: Free verse
Let her go
She’ll walk these corridors that you know
Bleeding to death unbeknown
Physically or mentally?
I do not know
But I know she suffers
But will not show
Leave her to writher
Leave her to go
It’s too much agony
Too much pain
She will not heal
She will not gain
Just let her go she can’t be helped
She’s too scared of shame
She’s in too much despairing pain
Paracetamol, cannabis, ibrobrufen?
I have no idea, I do not know
Just listen to me
And let her go
Needles, razors, knives or pins
I have no idea, I do not know
Like I said
Just let her go!
Categories:
paracetamol, anti bullying, depression, suicide,
Form: Bio
That pain is back.
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
If you suffer pain yourself!
I hope you are all helped, by The National Health.
Hope they got your treatment right.
Or you’ll be in pain, all blinking night.
Now, I’m doped up unto to my ears.
My pain is bearable; you’ll be pleased to hear.
Yet even when dosed up, you know.
Sometimes that blinking pain won’t go.
When the pain does go away!
To recharge itself, I meant to say.
I wish I knew where it did go.
Then to that place, I would flow.
Armed to the teeth with what I’ve got.
Paracetamol, codeine, morphine the lot!
I’d scatter them all about; continue until there’s not a doubt.
There are no more pains about.
My apologies if you live where there is not an adequate health service that looks after you.
Hope you all had a happy, peaceful Easter time.
Categories:
paracetamol, anger, easter, pain,
Form: I do not know?
>Wrong or Write.
It is not easy to write, right.
I’m seldom right, often wrong.
But that’s the way I stumble on.
Soon, one day, I won’t be wrong.
You might say using wrong twice ain’t right.
Of course, you may be quite right.
Unless of course you start to write.
Then you will know if what you write is right.
If you could read what you do write.
You know you will read wrong as right.
I do it all the time you know.
But try to correct my poetic flow.
Sometimes I write what I know is wrong.
I alter it as I go along.
But when I read what I did write.
If wrong, I still do read as right.
And that’s a problem if like me you write.
Not seeing wrong that is not right.
And on that note, I’ll say good night.
Pass the paracetamol Dragon I feel a headache coming on. That’s right.
Stanley (The mad Author.}
NB Can anyone explain in simple single stages, as I am dense tonight, more than normal. How one centers prose on this page , thank you.<
Categories:
paracetamol, confusion, crazy, feelings, funny,
Form: I do not know?
Imagine self, becoming 27.
Admired the elders.
Glad that prediction of not making it, does not exist.
Confused about if I can make it in the future.
Learn, thus, selves shelves.
I cannot imagine.
Hence we can.
Age is a number.
Eggroll to Paracetamol
Breath like a baby
Laugh
Next step, TV dinners at 60.
Hallelujah.
Categories:
paracetamol, age, birth, birthday,
Form: Narrative
Amoxicillin....What does it even mean?
Diclofenac....You're total maniac!
Paracetamol....Doesn't even roll.
Alpha-lipoic....Name makes me sick!
Benazepril....Makes me more ill!
Multi-cobalvit....Never heard of it!
Xputum paed drops....Will you ever stop? Gel Orasore....Can't take it anymore.
Thank you little sis'. For this medical skirmish
Categories:
paracetamol, write, me,
Form: Free verse
I try to imagine how it must be for you to feel this way,
rising like the undead under deep coffin skies,
when Death warmed over looks healthier by far,
lurching blindly in the dawn with pallid face and bleary eyes.
To be the nouveau riche where addict illness is concerned,
the candle burned both ends with your superficial wealth,
I flinch to think your currency is all but used and spent,
a lifestyle, it would seem, so detrimental to your health.
What if blood might streak ceramic in the toilet bowl,
your tongue a piece of liver on an acrid cocktail stick?
Would you wonder if it's ever been as bad as this before,
do you pray that paracetamol and coffee does the trick?
Is it even less amusing when you start to sweat and shake,
with the sun spraying rays of sawdust in your eyes?
Does the low hum of the 'fridge heard beyond the kitchen door
resonantly escalate into a swarm of buzzing flies?
Does the snap and thud of pumping blood go Click.Boom! in your skull,
a cerebro-vascular accident set loose within your head?
Lord I wish that you would give it up, I'm missing you so much,
see the light that leads you home, and return to me instead...
Categories:
paracetamol, lost love, love, people,
Form: Rhyme