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Poems by Alan Morris

Alan Morris, United Kingdom

Beasty comes to play

Just a rhyme about the beast....
Beasty comes to play.
I remember the day the Beast came to play while sitting in my chair,
My face went so red while clutching my head and the pain in my eye, I swear,
I was crying aloud banging my head, I thought I was going to die,
It felt like a raging animal was clawing out my eye,
It came from the blue I hadn't a clue how it would change my life,
That was the first day the Beast came to play armed with his burning knife,
The pain it strips the heart from me,
The pain it strips the heart from me,
And every time the Beast returns, it takes away the heart of me.

The weeks pass by and the Beast still sleeps planning his return,
I feel no pain, I'm alive again, just riddled with concern.
The time draws close, I make my plans and stock my arsenal up,
With Imigran and coffee beans and my favourite dark brown cup,
It’s been a month remission's up there's anxious times ahead,
Is this night the Beast comes to fight, or leave me alone instead.
The pain it strips the heart from me,
The pain it strips the heart from me,
And every time the beast returns, he takes away the heart of me.

The days have passed, the Beast has stirred his shadows pierce my skin.
I feel its grip, I dread its whip of pain and mortal sin,
My fears have come, my heart it sinks, it rips my soul to shreds,
And a frightful sinking feeling what every sufferer dreads,
His shadow flows, his presence grows feeding on my life,
This is the night the Beast comes to fight, armed with a burning knife.
The pain it strips the heart from me,
The pain it strips the heart from me,
And every time the Beast returns, he takes away the heart of me.

The Beast crawls in with a whip of pain and knife so burning hot,
He makes his stand with pain at hand and evil best forgot,
He's relentless as he bores into my head I cry,
As he burns through my cranium, while stabbing at my eye
My head is burning, my soul is yearning as tears stream down my face,
This is the time the Beast comes to dine, while all I do is pace,
The pain it rips the soul from me,
The pain it rips the soul from me,
And every time the Beast returns, he takes away the heart of me.

It’s only been ten minutes but feels like an hour passed by,
It hurts so bad he makes me mad but the Beast won’t say goodbye.
Now its half an hour it’s time to make a stand,
With half a mil of Imigran shaking in my hand,
The Beast is hurting, my life's returning, my eye is bloodshot and red.
That was the night the Beast came to fight, so I put him back to bed,
The pain has ripped the soul from me,
The pain has ripped the heart from me,
End every Imigran I take, it takes away the heart of me.

The Beast has gone for now but he'll be back for sure,
Yes he'll be back, he will be back, he knows there is no cure.
Yes, I have my Imigran, but for my heart it gives much strife,
It saps your strength and dulls your life.
Can’t take the pain much longer, the Beast is stronger too
So tonight when the Beast comes to fight, there will be nothing left to do,
The pain has took the soul from me,
The pain has ripped my heart from me,
And every time the Beast returns, he really bloody hurts me.

People like that.

Imagine the fear, if once a year mainly in the summer days for weeks on end, during the day,
in the early hours while you sleep.
You are stricken with a pain so intense, your head ablaze stabbing and grabbing it never gives up,
a pain so deep your eye burning up like an ice pick chipping away.
Well, there are people like that.

Imagine the fear, many times a year for weeks on end in the morning and many times throughout
the days for an hour or more.
You are stricken with a pain so intense, your head ablaze stabbing and grabbing it never gives up,
a pain so deep your eye burning up like an ice pick chipping away.
Then it comes back, again and again and again like a metronome of agonizing unimaginable pain.
Well, there are people like that.

Imagine the fear, for years of your life up to eight times a day, seven days a week with a few days off but no more.
You are stricken with a pain so intense, your head ablaze stabbing and grabbing it never gives up,
a pain so deep your eye burning up like an ice pick chipping away.
But you gotta get back to your feet, then it comes back again that metronome of pain grinding away it never gives up,
it never gives up wearing you down as it pummels you into the floor.
But you gotta get back to your feet. Yes, you gotta get back to your feet 'cause it comes back again and again and again and your home is your prison.

Well there are people that live with this traumatic and torturing pain.
But you would never know, as it’s an invisible illness,
And it could happen to you.
Just like that....
The Cluster comes out of the blue.

You just haven't got a clue

Time means nowt when I'm rolling around
and banging my bonce off the ground
snot dripping out my nose like an afghan hound
looking like the Bootboys have kicked me around
give me strength or a Mickey Finn
or bash my head in with a rolling pin
got no suma, can't do O2
got no suma, what do I do.
Ice cold water in my nose with pipette,
Ice cold towel rammed in my eye socket,
cranium burning like a crepe suzette,
out of breath, got oxygen debt.
Can't drink Red Bull cos it makes me spew,
can't get anything tried and true,
grind up some coffee beans, have a brew,
can't stop the beast doing taekwondo.
And with my optical bits in pieces,
the intensity increases,
all I can do is scream,
"YOU JUST HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE".

Electric Shock

A big blue flash like a whack off Tyson right on yer chin
Whoosh and shmizzlle and the smell of burning skin
Can't control your muscles, can't release your grip
Your hand is being frizzled and looks like a tortilla chip.
The power keeps on surging its current through your bones
your grip tightens as strong as Sly Stallone's
you start to panic, what you gonna do
turn the bugger off and clean up all the poo.

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Thanks to Christophe Delage