Ulcer Poems | Examples

I can assure you

I can assure you

Had a dream while sitting at the edge
of a hole where they had removed a stone
and the mold was soft to the touch
that I had died, but also said to myself that
Were I dead, I wouldn't be able to dream
I have growth on the side, which looks innocent
like the one I had surgery on, the new one
is on my back and tends to be ignored
I must see a doctor again before the ulcer
sprouts a green plant that has a red rose
that needs to be handled, not by a gardener
The hole had turned into a newly dug grave
I didn't care for this dream, wished it would
I assured my frightened self that I was not
dead, and the self said I will believe that if
You wake me up at eight

Capitalism, The Failed American Dream

the damned alarm howls at 5 a.m.
like a thirsty rabid dog in the dark.
I throw my bones into a threadbare suit,
and drag my carcass out the door.

the streetlights flicker, dying gods,
the freeway hums a tired hymn.
coffee burns my throat—
fuel for another round in the machine.

the boss with his middle fat finger,
his gold watch, his ulcer breath,
telling me I’m lucky to be here,
lucky to have this endless grind.

I move numbers, push papers,
count the hours, count the minutes,
watch the clock like a prisoner,
like a dog waiting for scraps.

lunch is a stale sandwich,
eaten under a flickering light.
I watch men in pressed suits,
laughing over steak and wine.

back to the desk, back to the screen,
back to the same dead dream.
the sun sinks, the city groans,
and I drag myself home.

a six-pack waits,
a cigarette, a sigh,
some mindless TV to fill the void.
then bed, then dark, then nothing.

the alarm I hate, howls again.
another day chewed up,
spit out,
like a lifeless roach, life is gone

The Gratitude Of KAMERFthurred

My memory ascends to those bygone days,
When my stomach lay flat,
Afflicted by shabby pains,
Teetering on the brink of an ulcer.
Yet, since our serendipitous encounter,
A swift metamorphosis has graced my being,
Transforming my stomach in size and sensation.
The definitions of hunger, starvation, and peckishness,
Have faded into oblivion.
In their place, I have discovered,
The profound essence of true satisfaction.
Still,I, KAMERFthurred, find myself bereft of words,
To fully convey my gratitude.
One of my deepest wishes
Is to immortalize this poem as a living testament of thanks to you.
For any who read it,
May they understand, as you often shy away
From my expressions of gratitude.

The Poet

A scarlet scar on the left knee
Hair on my head I cut into chops myself
I dash out from under my weighted blanket of warmth 
I am allowed one cup of coffee and one cup of tea
A weak stomach from an ulcer doesn’t keep me from writing. 
Will a poet walk into my life? Will I ever have that partner?

Back Door Balm

To treat an ulcer that was peptic

My Doc gave me an antiseptic 

Then he made it quite clear

That it goes up my rear

I think you could say I'm a skeptic

Dracula the Traveler

Dracula would go on adventure
and loved to drink in local culture,
but he discovered, alas,
that strange food gave him gas,
not to mention one heck of an ulcer.

During a weekend in Cincinnati
he met some women who were quite chatty;
but their lewd and crude talking
was really quite shocking
and it simply drove him quite...batty.

In Bucharest, he became fascinated
by a vampire he later dated.
She was a Contessa
whose name was Vein-essa
and she liked her tea de-coffin-ated!

They would travel to museums and shows
and especially enjoy art nouveau;
but they most liked to spend
leisure time with a friend:
the vampire artist Vincent Vein Gogh.

Never Really Gone

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)

Home of Three Diseases

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...

Red Tooth and Claws

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.

A Filthy Parasite

(A World of Monsters & Men series)

Turn off the lights
Lower the sound - or silent 
Stop talking for a bit - I mean perfect decorum
Let me think 
Let me sink myself in the ocean of my thoughts 
I need to clear the waves in my mind
For some time - maybe longer.
A filthy parasite is eating at my core
All that makes me whole
All that I’ve deep inside
Leaves me lifeless- at least not living 
The blooming flowers in me are cutting themselves 
I hardly feel alive 
Burn out - lost - empty - empty
I now face life in the face of a cancerous ulcer

Insane

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)

Gravel Situation

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

—————

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

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.

Leper Ward

I have less fingers,
my thumbs are hump-backed turtles.
We are a peculiar odor of skin flakes.
We are a smoking club,
cigarettes are tucked between nubs.
Blue smoke bleeds from our gums.
Nothing here is as it was or should be.

A young white man visits us, his Thai is poor,
we laugh at his accent.
He looks at my feet,
He pokes his long nose
into my sores
I resent him. …if he heals one ulcer
I know another will come.

I listen as he struggles for the right words,
smile and nod. He does not know yet -
there are no right words.

What Is This Peace

What is this peace that you say;
That you inflate every day?
Have you seen it ever in your bed,
Or there’s an ulcer in my head?

Do you want me to stay calm
When a beauty kisses my palm?
Should I clap and say, ‘Hurray!!
When my darling does oft’, delay?

If you often demand me to listen
Do you think my oracy may glisten?
Can a tree lose, its age-old roots
And learn to wear, borrowed boots?

Since pirates have looted my treasure
Can I recite poetry for your pleasure?
So where is this peace that you say
That you inflate so hard every day?


Aug. 5, 2020
It Sucks Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann

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