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Showing posts from May 8, 2022

sometimes an ugly thought becomes a poem - Karen Chamisso

The penis sadness of so many men Who ran in their youth in packs With fee fie fo and fee fie fum Confusing sex with jumping jacks Settles like a pall on their older faces - The judges, lawyers, the ceo The aging blade’s jowly disgraces The thirty-somes nowhere to go. As pity to pain, so I’ve been taught, Is the tribute we must as Christians pay I try to summon up tears for the lot, Those dogs in their winter play This little piggy went to market This little piggy went home And wrote oink oink oink on his walls Brooding on his sweetmeats all alone. - Karen Chamisso

pain pain pain

  I’m in pain at the moment. In Sete, I made some sudden movement that I cannot now call to mind, review my movements as I will – but I noticed, walking along the seashore, a pain in my back. The next day the pain was double, and I went to the doctor, who – after having me hop up on the cot in his office, which required resolution – poked me here and there and had me raise my legs – easy! The trouble was just sitting there. Well, the doctor concluded, obviously lumbago! He wrote me a prescription for painkillers and a heat treatment lotion, warned me to take the pill for my stomach – he was most concerned with the effect of the pills on my stomach, which I consider very French – and ushered me out of the office. Pain is a strange thing, as it sucks in your ego. Suddenly, the littlest movement becomes subject to a calculus that would have been the admiration of Bentham. A calculus seldom met with in the real world. I have often thought that I would not survive more than a week in the co