Health Poems (230)

Who made us begin this game we call life?
why should i feel im held by the throat with a knife?
Could i kill the man who enslaved us all?
live freely or will this confine us all
will these walls ever be knocked down ?
will the violence really ever be controlled ?
I think not, lennon imagines all the people
Imagine the ones that are dead
killed innocently by our so called justice system
which is based on violence, no peace no peace!
is our grave the only resting of peace allowed in this sad state of america
whose to blame for this crisis only ourselves
For not standing for what we believe
There is no fight for the ones who fear

3 palm trees standin' by a wall
3 blind men thought they'd seen it all
3 dogs bark at a thief in the night
3 diamond rings left in the perps' sight
son of a b*tch give 'em back

you never know when the tide will turn
you never know when it's what you've got to learn
catastrophic situations are rarely all that bad
instantaneous allegations only lead to sad
son of a b*tch take it back

always someone's got it worse
always someone's felt the curse
leprechauns and dwarfs still think they're tall
illusions of grandeur always lead to a fall
son of a b*tch watch your back

an illustration of an hallucination with imagination at a crawl

Sitting in front of the tele he sits
The coach potatoe
He always sits not moving not talking he just sits
Sqaure ies he now as got from sitting in front of the tele

Sitting munching his take away the coach potatoe sits and watches tele
not moving not talking muching all the time what channel he watches He does not care
Tele is his joy his fun

A knock on the door he does not care he ignores them all when the Take away comes he fidgets with joy
Rubs his hands opens his door glides back to his beloved tele sits Down for more
Eating munching he watches more tele

whats for tea shall i ask
maybe chips maybe spuds
whats to go with it dare i ask
burger and chips, pie and chips

oh what a dilema
pie and chips with lots of gravy
or burger and chips with lots of sauce
should i have pudding with lots of sauce

oh what a dilema
who should i ask
if i have chips ill get big if i have pie ill get big
oh what a dilema i dont want to get big

guess ill have salad as usual i dont want to get big ,heathy, i will be
and i will be thin oh the joys to be thin
oh wish i could eat to be thin
ill have steak ill have pudding but if i eats these i wont be thin
oh what a dilema i only want to be thin

Hustle an bustle it's everywhere you look, feet pounding sidewalk's, tires runnin roads, a moment of silence whilst cradled in that chair, while not in that mix, through blanketed stare, peaceful it is, so sensed you feel you can touch, minds shut down no exaggerated thought, it is what it is, time soon forgot, it's gonna be mine, deserved needed space, i don't need too long, refresh the mind for a bit, fifteen minutes . . . . . yeah thats it.

I still can't grasp the reality
that I'm alone
With my children almost grown

I am the killer of smiles
The death of men again and agian

With no way to be weak
Only wish I could weep
And I never, never, never sleep

Trying to find what doesn't exist
Taking my life hard to resist
No substance of which to consist
I wonder if I'll even be missed

Maybe
but only if

The child inside
hasn't died

I am the death of machines
The killer of Love
Below and above
and everywhere in between

They still haven't
Granted our hour
to live our lives
Until they sour

How arrogant of you to expect me
to feel alive
When you know how I barely survive

I am the bringer of sadness and pain
watched over by dark clouds
and rain
The death of myself again and again

hope is a word often said
yet undernourished
in these broken healing days
it has planted seeds in my heart
its an opportunity
for rebirth snd awakening
in the midst of the frustration
it quietly blooms
reminding me that as the days ahead
bring a stronger me that it is a time to revel to contemplate
to grow a better character
that blossoms into something wondrous in my life
hope

To Backache

My curse upon your seething blight
keeping me from a restful night,
persistent as any nagging wife
the scourge of any good man’s life!

Yet my cursing I feel goes astray
as the pain persists through the day,
like Burns’s toothache had him raving
in the air my words are scathing!

If at night this ache could keep
I would get a good night’s sleep,
then awaken to a new day’s pain
to start my cursing ways again!

sonofadam

i close my eyes as the pain waves over my wrist and
shuts down the cognitive
it takes me back to the primitive
totally uninhibited
a fragile symphony
as my body tries to heal
a hand that would fit
in a dali landscape
the wrist bent back over a mesa almost without bones
as my eyes are closed
purple neon dark notes striking a different chord throughout my nerve endings
a broken woman for a time
but like all things this will pass

You rarely get a second chance,
to have a new beginning,
so take this chance in both hands,
and really start a living.

A living free of all the drugs,
and others expectation,
where you can be who you are,
and build your own foundation.

Foundations built upon your terms,
for a life you deserve to live,
a life you’ve always dreamed of,
access to a few you may choose to give.

But when you give out access,
of others to your life,
be careful of whom you let in,
so they don’t cause you strife.

As you’ve worked hard to make it here,
and safety is what you need,
so if you’re having second thoughts,
attentions to these thoughts heed.

Second thoughts are usually concern,
letting themselves be known,
that this on and have a look,
to ensure the coup’s not flown.

So remember a beginning’s a start,
a fresh slate on which to build,
so take this on as a gift and it you’re angry,
hold the move until you’ve chilled.