ON & OFF DAYS, with peaks of leaks

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Bill


ON AND OFF DAYS, with peaks of leaks


Some days I have an off-day

Not many days are on.

Consistent days I have to say.

Are well and truly gone.


Before I get up from my bed.

I have to exercise.

To wake my muscles from the dead.

Or was that my own demise.



Did I awake from last night's dream.

Or am I residing there.

Nothing knocks one's self-esteem.

Like living a nightmare.



Long lost now that peace of mind.

I had my life throughout.

Age is inclined to be unkind.

With nowt to shout about.



Arthritic pain in every joint.

Can make a teardrop come.

Sometimes I wonder what's the point.

When all is said and done.



I leak and stream from everywhere.

It never seems to stop.

I know it's only wear and tear.

From old age and the op's.



I leak from every orifice.

The smell can overwhelm.

With no control on shit or piss.

Within this aging realm.



Ears ooze wax and nose flows snot.

And I regurgitate.

Then I tend to sweat a lot.

What a freaky and leaky state.



Bleeding nose and stoma too.

And from my bum as well.

To speak these things is still taboo.

Like leper rings a bell.



From my stoma faeces come.

Plus mucus and some pain.

More mucus flushes from my bum.

Like frog's spawn in the rain.



Once I stopped to ask a plumber.

To stop my leaks and smell.

He agreed it was a bummer.

For he had these leaks as well.



Sometimes I think it can't get  worse.

Not one thing is right.

I sit here making rhyming verse.

Because it helps me fight.



When my fighting's over.

Don't put me in the ground.

My life has not been clover.

I feel that I've been drowned.



So put me in the ocean.

The wide and clear blue sea.

I have this fancy notion.

The wetness will suit me.



The sea would make me happy.

The sea could make me glad.

I would not feel so crappy.

I would not feel so sad.



I want to feel the freedom.

That flows with every wave.

A flotsam, jetsam, kingdom.

Will be my watery grave.



For water ought to be the theme.

Of epitaph and score.

My nightmare turns into a dream.

Where I will leak no more.



                 B. Withers 2011
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smith311
Bill - Thanks for the poetry. I very much enjoyed the read.

George
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Counting My Blessings
Bill, I resemble your sentiments in your fabulous poem.
Why wait till your time on earth is done to enjoy the water.
Seems to me you need to visit the White cliffs. I understand there should be bluebirds there now, because the world is free.

And if you put yourself in the water now, most of your leaks will disappear. It's kind of like the paraplegic who wanted to go into space to be weightless because he wouldn't notice that his legs didn't work anymore.

Our bodies leak.
All bodies leak.
No, I am not a freak.

Consider the alternative
If everything were to stay inside us
All that stuff in one big collective
Just a big blimp full of pus.

And this provokes the question, what would we invent to handle that once we were ready to pop?
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