Poetry & ME

No Practical Application

Part 1 - No test for fatigue - muscular, general or otherwise

Lift your arm up, he said,
Stretch he said,
So I did,
Good he said,
The test had no practical application.
It really didn't matter that I couldn't repeat
The action to pack away the groceries
From the table top to shelf above my head,
Or to hold my arms up and keep them there,
How shall I do the window tops,
I do despair,
The test had no practical application.
Squeeze the ball he said,
So I did,
Good he said,
There's no sign of muscle weakness there,
My, aren't doctors such funny chaps,
The test had no practical application,
No practical application at all.

What's one squeeze of the ball if in
Life you recall, its repeated action
Which is the norm,
I used a similar action to knead some dough,
But I couldn't sustain it,
I'll let you know, I couldn't complete my bread,
What's more it brought on chest pains instead,
The test had no practical application,
No practical application at all.

Well me and my fuzzy head,
He said to touch my nose,
So I touched my toes,
He said touch your head,
I bent instead,
He said to touch my nose,
So I touched my toes,
He said touch your head,
I bent instead,
He said hands on hips,
I did a dip,
Oh, he said, she's mad in the head -
She has no practical application.

Hold your arm out he said,
Good he said,
Bend it, so I did,
The test had no practical application.

My arm would despair to hold it there
For the twenty minutes needed to comb
My type of hair, you see I have no silky
Flowing locks, just dread locks,
The test had no practical application.

It is repeated action, repeated movement
And applied exertion plus coordination
That all come together for real life situations,
And practical applications.

Somebody please tell those learned chaps
That when worked in combination with
Applied exertion it's the smaller muscle
Groups that tire first and oh so easily,
So many tests have no practical application
No practical application at all.

No Practical Application
Part 2 - No test for air flow (lung fatigue)

My singing voice is like a lark, but with
practical application the next day it is more like a bark.
No projection of voice can I sustain,
Oh my Lord only induced chest pains. This little insight goes unobserved for the people in white coats it's too simple, too absurd and not conclusive.
Watch, by the time their fancy ECG picks up this abnormality, I'll be well on my way to the Knackers Yard,
You just wait and see,
So many tests have no practical application,
No practical application at all.

Remember the Labour Leader John Smith,
it was on one of those same fancy ECG machines that they pronounced him fit.
Literally two minutes later and that's a fact, for the poor man had just got off the doctors couch and was still tucking his shirt down into his trousers,
when he rolled over, he keeled over.
No wonder it is said that the under diagnosis kills more people than any world war.
So many tests have no practical application,
No practical application at all.

They pronounced me fit for work but I have no shirt
or skirt or other clothes to wear to work,
Their test had no practical application
So it did not show, That I could not wash them or hang them out.
My drawn conclusion, I'll let you know,
I'll wear my birthday suit and make a show,
Is this a practical application?

Both my Mam and Gramps and myself included we've all noted, if in everyday situations working arms
in application brings on exhaustion
from your lung capacity,
It is a first alert, yes, signs from here came on first way before "fluttering Burt" sent out his own alert,
Alas, poor gramps no doctor could he find to observe or do a practical test in time.
Now he's pushing up daisies in his own good time.
Please note, applied application.

Exhaustion brought on by repeated upper arm movement, was the most significant key, that first showed all the weakness of our lung capacity,
just look and you will see on foot my Mam could do a real mean dash, from
Warstones Inn to town in a flash,
but my poor Mam, time and time again her lungs gave out, when she either hoovered, mopped the floor or did some handwashing.

We are simple people with no upper minds such silly observations are a waste of time -
Not a practical application.
Simoney Davies

We are simple people with no upper minds
such silly observations are a waste of time -
No practical application.

Simoney Davies

MY BIRTHDAY
(another year destroyed by M.E)

Another year gone.
Vanished into time on some parallel conveyor belt.
As it passes, I grab hold and hang on for dear life -
Screaming at it to stop,
Pleading with it to wait, to let me catch up.
But it has no heart
And with little effort
(Save that for show)
It struggles free
And is gone.
I am left with just my bleeding hands
And the echo of a scream inside my head.

Vicky

M.E.
Prison without trial
A coffin of flesh and blood
A living hell.
Pain without gain
A war without medals
A smile without joy
A silent scream
A living hell.
Alive but not living
Being but *not* being
Loving but not feeling
Coping but *not* coping
Hoping without hope.
Seeing but not doing
Fighting but not winning
Begging, pleading, promising anything,
Life without life
A living hell
M.E.

Vicky

Chronic Fatigue

It’s not a pretty sight or subject
It’s doesn’t even have the lure
that a bad subject does
It’s relegated to it’s lowly place
with things like fungus and vomit
diarrhea and douche
Under your breath
I hear you say, "lazy"
when you learn my secret ambition
is to find a couch and lie on it
My secret symptom of modern perversion
like Agent Orange or Gulf War Syndrome
IT’S ALL IN YOUR HEAD
Tell that to the babies with no limbs
to the vaccine injured kids
Tell that to the mercury in my mouth
or the hormone fed antibiotic filled mad cows
Tell it to the genetic clones
and those world trade clowns
It’s all in your head?
Tell that to the Martin Luther King’s family

Tell it to the tribes downwind
or my overburdened immune system
Our bed is made
now we’re surely going to lie in it
and take our medicine for somebody’s profit
You’d think it was a conspiracy
to keep us down but still consuming
It’s all consuming
consuming us…..
Chronic Fatigue is a metaphor
a disease for those not easily labeled
And remember this:
The canary in the mine
died of side effects
IT’S ALL SIDE EFFECTS
But it’s all in your head
my little secret
my secret
Do you want to know a secret?
I don’t know why were all not sick
and tired of all these secrets

Colleen Redman, USA

THE CIRCLE OF LOVE

In the warm and the dark and the glow,
We stand locked together as one being,
My arms around your neck
Your arms around my waist,
We sway in our circle of love.

Each circuit affording us a glimpse of ourselves
In the mirror over the fireplace.
My cheek against your jaw
You lips against my hair,
Reflecting our circle of love.

We move slowly and silently,
Little steps that scuff the carpet.
Your thigh between mine,
My thigh between yours,
A sweet caress in our circle of love.

Our children sleep peacefully upstairs,
Open rose-bud mouths, silky soft eyelashes.
Her eyes like yours,
His eyes like mine,
They are the continuation of our circle of love.

We dance on in exquisite familiarity,
The bump of our hearts making our music.
I wonder what are your thoughts,
You wonder what are my thoughts,
We are apart, yet together, in our circle of love.

This, then, is my gift to you this Christmas,
This moment of our tranquil fusion.
My heart with yours,
Your heart with mine,
Eternally dancing in our circle of love.

Abi

THE ANIMAL SHELTER

On a blanket, in a basket, in the corner of a cage,
Sits a dog with no expression,
No-one knows his name or age.
Found abandoned on a rubbish tip,
Discarded, thrown away,
Was the dog with no expression,
On that sultry summer's day.

His emaciated body shows neglect beyond compare,
His ribs are clearly visible, his coat is mostly bare,
His skin is red and sore and fleas have feasted everywhere,
On the dog with no expression,

But he doesn't seem to care.

Doesn't care that he is hungry,
Doesn't care that he's in pain,
Doesn't seem to feel the stinging
As they treat his sores again,
Doesn't want to know the kennel maid,
The girl with friendly face,

No, the dog with no expression
Stares blankly into space.

For his world, it has been shattered,
His faith in man has gone.
His owners had abused him
Though his loyalty stayed strong;
His owners had abused him
Though *he'd* done nothing wrong.

And now he's been deserted,
Rejected, tossed aside,
The dog with no expression
Feels only numb inside,

The dog with no expression
Feels only numb inside.

Vicky

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF

I was once a caterpillar
Living off the leaves
Then one day I felt a change
Something I couldn't believe.

I was now a butterfly
Flying through the air
In the sunshine and the rain
I didn't have a care.

Then one day it happened
A little boy with a net
He caught me with a swipe of it
And kept me as a pet.

My wings were broke when I was caught
I was in so much pain
The jar he kept me in was small
I don't think I'll fly again.

Well, I died that day
A butterfly no more
So I went to heaven
But I had to settle a score.

I came back as a lion
I lived in a big zoo
The little boy came visiting
Now he is dead too.

You see, he reached over too far
I'd got him in a flash
Revenge is sweet for butterflies
So be careful what you catch.

Steve Jervis

HOUSE ON THE HILL

There's a house with no windows
It's just got a door
Slates on the roof
And tiles on the floor.

The people who live there
They never come out
There's no noise from in there
Nor even a shout.

It must be so dark
Not letting in light
The people who live there
They must think it's night.

Everythings delivered
Through the hatch in the door
It stands at the top of the hill
On the top of the moor.

People say it's haunted
They say, no one lives there
But I see the things
No one else can see there.

The moral of the verse
Is never take things for granted
Its a house with no windows
But the place is enchanted.

Steve Jervis