Short Gastric Poems

Leftovers galore
Just means less trips to the store
Gastric overload...

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The mental stumble,
And gastric rumble,
And clumsy fumble,
Uncalled for grumble,
And frequent mumble,
All while you bumble
Through life boldly
And getting oldly....

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sharp-eyed you peeled my face
and my body
so sour-tasted me revealed
it was unconditional surrender to your authority
of disposing me in trash box

you yet gobbled up me
and served me your gastric acid...

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I listen on your belly 
Moist subcutaneous gurgles
Brown nipples above my eyes
Your fingers stroke my brow 

Fleshy mines inside  
Gastric wonders active hive
Imagined by the sound
The living hum 

My heart is thumping mad...

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Heartburn
                                                      Gastric acid
                                            Bad burning sensation
                                         Caused by a regurgitation
                                                         Buildup...

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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....

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The second time I remember we meet. Looking at you upon my visit.
Rotted black encrusted feet. No longer lustrous and standing.
Nasal gastric tube in your nare. No running scheduled feedings.
Seeing you abandoned in the nursing home showed that the staff no longer had 
any cares.
Balled in a fetal position. Shocked that you were ravaged....

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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....

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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....

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Myself I am troubling
The stress level is doubling
Gastric juices are bubbling
My pancreas is rumbling

Life is turning
The stomach is churning
Forehead is burning
The inner life is yearning

Resources are shrinking
Friendships are stinking
Is life yet linking
Or is everything just sinking

Decisions are made
Plans have been laid
I think I am afraid
Life's been frayed...

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Lurking in fuzzy leftovers is seen
A quivering, crawling hairball of green
A florescent prune
Or cheese from the moon
Gurgles gastric, plastic alien spleen

The miser squire requires gluts of caffeine
To dissect this science project's gangrene
Harpoon on a spoon
Zoom to the saloon
Lunch ladies' supreme mystery cuisine.

3/15/19

For Green Humor contest
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire...

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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....

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I never overcame your departure brothers
since then
my feet walk crippled
the kidney only filters half of the residues
my heart partially collapsed
and beats insufficiently
the gastric juice became acid
and corrodes the sweetness of dreams
the bronchial airways are carbonized
and emit a roaring echo
the neurons lost
innumerable synapses
when dying necrotic
but here I am with my soul
regenerating light
so that the guide with the candle
calms my rumble of jungle...

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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....

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when it comes to food my biggest gripe
is how anyone can eat disgusting tripe,

lining of the stomach of ruminant cows
gastric juices of mine would not arouse,

if I was served this awful food on a plate
I would decline this just couldn’t be ate,

when it’s cooking can’t stand the smell 
like something eaten by someone in hell,

tripe is not a delicacy for rich or poor
serve me rubbish I’ll show you the door.

01/08/2018
Contest my blue cheese is
Sponsored by Kevin Shaw....

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