The Constipated Life

Nearly strangulating
rectal prolapse
for him, fun for
the emergency room

Sky high
rapid pulse, a drum
beat call for EKG

She’s outraged;
who can do an EKG
with hairy chest,
gets a razor
to soothe
her pique,
feels better shaving
pasting electrodes

Lying on right side
pulls down bloody pants
intestines inside-out

Interns can’t
push it back in

Strangulated? No
look at the color

wait for doom
hangout in the
time-lapse room

He’s a mistake. His
quests have been
in vain, success
as jest on rocky roads,
obstructed ideas

Into the bowels of the hospital
he’s admitted
by wheelchair, by elevator
with IV bag on shoulder

The entourage
and Specialist
reached behind
the naked subject

The audience
have their gloves
and wide eyes

Some are sent away
to retrieve an anesthetic, but
the doctor can’t wait

The Specialist shoves with gloves
a push, a twist, hears the
slipping out growl and grunt and moan,
says breathe through
the mouth, proceeds
says we don’t want gangrene

The final push is performed.
It’s in.

The constipated life
a comic error

He’s afraid to go
ever again
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert


Whisper Message

There is no hope
if I must shout
a gentle message that
is not the same
in anger
even a shush

I have a whisper of a plan
to save the world.

In a cakewalk
I wanted to show you
but you made me
stalk the bird
of your acceptance,
caged in requirements,
like a cat who measures
an opening to speak it
with a whisker brushing
brusque refusals

I have swallowed the bird,
who sings too much
from a staid repertoire; no one
listens to whispers anymore,
not any more than
purrs are heard
from a pearl
or a clam
stomached in vain
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Insane Ashes

Give me my aardvark
I shall not want, but
to bring ants to
the home of my evil Aunt

She reads me my sins,
will not let my staff comfort me

I will take her down
to the river,
baptize her in joy,
break her cane,
wash away her criticisms

Let her cries, tears
screams be
part of the flow
of the river that is mine

Isn’t it grand that
the Grand Canyon
would take Mom and her sister
away like tourists into death.
Hooray! Ashes to ants.
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Happy Losar

A new year with you
a splendid meal

There is the smell of incense.
Are you a deity or
my love with a match

My love,
you infuse my spirit.
May the spirits approve

You warm me
without wool
though you are
the salt of
my stew

I watch the
lips of your chatter
because chili is hot
like you, but

I cherish your silence
when you are pleased
with the lust of our conversation
when we are
a revelation of one,
the laugh of agreement
the bliss of the giggle
a kiss
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert


So I’m not
elegant in prose
on the tipping toes
of snob poems

The proper verse
escapes me
as my deeds are meager

Must I have
a pompous biography
to prop up what
is incomprehensible?

I am not dense
in meanings
like Socrates

I am seeking
to be noticed:

an oaf left
by the angels
to suffer
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Arrogant Malt

dismal poem

Antacids and beer
insults all the time

Brooding brew, I’ll
have none of her stew

Cheating poem woman
seen you down
the street
flaunting him
’cause he’s got the wine

Whine me brew
antacids and stew

Acid grief to stomach
antacids and beer, but

maybe a
good bleed out of
raging sorrow might

do me better
with hot pepper
and death.

I should go now
where fainting people
are unnoticed

Last money for some
Rye whiskey and
ginger ailing — I
like that more than
malted milk

I hope on the way
I’ll pass a lady
with baby carriage, carelessly
walking in front of a truck
who I can push out of the way
as martyr, but

more likely I will
be a sorrow of one
a humble snob
without rhyme.

Oh God
speak now

I am so sorry to be
acid and blood
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert