Short Ulcer Poems

ulcer
developed
from too much stress
on an old country road:
pothole

—————

bad tooth
cavity
where the filling
simply will not stay put:
pothole
...

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vertical,		horizontal,

who can ever even define them?

for a plum bob
or a hair in the breeze…




- - are both in

- - -

- - the orientation - -



which they themselves –


subscribe...

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Two patients came
None of who were lame
Yet each had a limp
As though they’d broken a hip.

Where does it hurt?” we asked
But all they did was cry
But still we pried and pried
Till they screamed, it’s an ulcer 
And there is your answer....

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That ulcer
in his 
consciousness
bleeding
to be heard
A canker
of a 
muted past
abscessing
every word

Cold sores
of detention
that fade
but never
cure
A virus
of his 
hopes and dreams
recurring
— untoward

(Septa R5 Train: May, 2024)
...

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He is a coward.
He got heart problems.
He have an ulcer.
He is scared of ghosts.
He runs in the dark.



He lies. He falls. 
He slips.He cries.
He snores.He smells.
He shouts.He yells.



He screams.
He looks weak.
He's alone

He farts.
He burps.

Care....

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Who cares for peptic ulcer !
Who cares for migraine !
As lovely as you are,
one not falling in love with you  
is nothing but insane !

But that insane i do want to be
head over heels,
be a forever lover of all your pain,
when will you have those eyes to see ?

(05.10.2022)...

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If you were a lover 
I’d tire of loving 
instead, I nurse 
and soothe 
as an ulcer 
reminded when 
I or anyone 
commits a misdemeanor 
that given your delicate state 
it burns pitifully, and you 
pained beyond the measure 
flare, charring my skin 
as I hold on, 
stomp out the flames 
and bring you back, again....

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Hunger has its claws:
Kitchens gape not doors.
One can't for long sit,
Whom ulcer has hit!

Just Red Tooth and claws,
A waging of wars:
Everyone a cat;
You'll hear Rat-Tat-Tat!

It's red tooth and claws!
Don't come here with laws.
Profit does us fit:
One from tricks and wit.

For red tooth and claws
I'll hide all the flaws....

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He gnawed on his resentment
In public and alone
Like a dog he kept on worrying
The marrow from the bone
Till he gave himself an ulcer
Till his teeth got small and stumpy
Till other dogs said, Hang on, Fang
You’re starting to look grumpy
He wouldn’t leave the thing alone
Just wouldn’t let it lie
Time to put the bone down, Fido
Go on, try

by Gail...

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A body housing three diseases
With three more as the visiting ones:
Enjoy he does just brief releases,
On some days obliged to laugh but once...

A rough fate acting as it pleases;
Each time he dumped his drugs worse than dunce
Cimetidine that Ulcer eases
Or else a body hit on each ounce
Inhaler against the longest wheezes;
No Ciproxin, Salmonella pounce......

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Words have shaped me like a sculpture,
Like liquid poured into a mold,
Words have feasted on my soul crueler than a vulture,
Tearing me apart, splitting me open, leaving me exposed,
Words more painful than a pus-filled ulcer,
Left me trembling, huddled in a corner with my eyes closed.
Words have killed me, I was overexposed,
My mind slowly rotting, decomposed....

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Am a physically healthy adult 
With an unhealthy heart
The diseases of my heart are anger, stress & worry
I just wasted 48 hours of my life stressing 
My mind couldn't stop cycling
My heart was racing
I now have stomach ulcer
Something I never had before
Am sure those 48 hours have trimmed down my life span greatly
But today, now, this moment 
I have to make a decision to recover my heart 
And save it from any more damage...

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Faith 





Faith like a magnet 
attracts and embraces,
Rises as an early sun
touches acme of noon,
Soothes as a cool breeze
to soul's serenity,
Blooms as vibrant flowers
an emblem of Spring.

Faith if defied
bleeds as malignant ulcer
Whips the very soul
and squeezes the heart,
Nibbles ruthlessly
to later discard,
Moves in a dry desert
as hope chases mirage.





Written May 5th, 2016
For contest by Nayda...

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The frowning light of my desk lamp, the voice
of hell dissolved in strongest alcohol,
my drunk and naked shadow on the wall…
The printed wiki photo of James Joyce, 
who died of stomach ulcer, shakes his head,
seeing I drink Laphroaig from the inkwell.
It is all right for you, James, you may well 
speak of addictive practices: you’re dead,
you’ve been a famous novelist but I
yet have to be a famous and to die.

Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Ironic Zink...

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The country is painted red
By the hand that seals our fate
The pain requires of a poet a sad poem
The hope of the supplicants
Is sickened by the festering ulcer of infamy
The absence of civility
Nourishes the greed
That thins our pride
Our lungs are spent
From straining to be heard
Above the loud crack of the whip
But-
As sure as day follows night;
The steaming venom of bitterness-
Will Intoxicate our conscience
And will stir the rage of the Beast
Hiding in our chest!...

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