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I never had migraines. Never had migraines.

quote by David Gest
Added by Lucian Velea
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The argument of caffeine

The argument of caffeine.
Preventive medicine some say.
Others believe that it causes increased chance of heart problems and strokes.
Good old studies, when the medical society as a whole can't decide.
How is one such as I who has no research invested in the subjects to decide.
Its addictive I'll agree with that. It relieves some migraines, its been proven. That's one of the active ingredients in Excedrin migraine.
It causes nasty side effects when you go off it cold turkey.
I know from personal experiences.
But a cure for some kind of Alzheimers, later on in life, hmm I just don't know.
That's too much like trying predicting the future.
And it would require extensive studies to be proven.
Ones that were done the life span of human beings.
It makes you more alert.
The reason why when we first wake up we desire a cup of coffee is the addictiveness and it ability for it to wake us up.
The aroma, the hotness, the bitter sweet taste.
Fulfilling it is with a yummy doughnut in the morning.

So for right now I'll continue to drink my caffeinated coffee.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Broken Heart

Nothing to tell, lots to feel
Past leaving piercing pain
Standing here heart-broken

Fear to sleep, dreams are dreaded
Dear to none walking all alone
Standing here heart broken

Fragrance stinks flavor stirs
Music causing migraines
Standing here heart broken

Anger roars hunger snores
Acts of madness musing all
Standing here heart broken

poem by Somanathan Iyer
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Dottie Writes and Cries

Sunlight settles on the
table where Dottie writes.

Her journal records the days
since Willie left, the effects
it has had, her migraines,
the sickness, the stomach
pains, the blood loss.

She writes slowly, neat
and lucid, the pen tight
between finger and thumb.

She pauses, looks at the sunlight,
how the beams seem to dance
upon the cloth, she sucks the end
of the pen, her tongue sensing
the smoothness and plasticness.

She will write of the roses,
how they have grown, the red
like blood, the blood like that
on the sheet before the wash.

She misses her brother, his
departure to fetch Sammy
has pained her, causes her
loss of sleep, despite sleeping
in his bed, caressing his pillow.

She writes again, the pen nib
moving over the journal's page,
her eyes watching the flow,
the words settling on the paper,
the words holding the images,
the images for him, for Willie
to read and have on his return.

A bird song, she cocks an ear,
outside nearby, a robin, she
closes her eyes, grasps the sound,
turns it around in her mind.

She will write that down,
he likes birdsong, loves the
songs, the call of the wild.

She opens her eyes, begins
to write once more, she wants
to cry, pushes her eyes tight

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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Screaming at the Darkness

Preference:
It is funny how you can be someone’s rock when they are down and needy. You lend an ear to their problems and their woes to bring them comfort. As soon as you show them how you feel they can't handle it and hang up on you. Not once but 3 times. What does that mean to you? I know what it means to me for it is self-evident. I can be a shoulder to cry on but as I feel it as well I comfort myself for gone are my shoulders to rely.

What are friends?
Do you know? I think I do now. The greatest thing is to know for what you don't know, you just don't know.

Screaming at the Darkness
Written by Wilfred Charles Mellers, Friday, May 22,2009

Gone now the blue bird of happiness
Drowning now fills my world with sadness
Crazy thoughts fill my brain
Void now the blue skies to feel the pain

Four walls comforts me not
Loneliness is all I’ve got
The silence rain monsoons and hurricanes
Lost the soldier from migraines

Love fought the foolish campaign
Petrol filled with no octane
Try and try renders the same results
Screaming from far into the shadows insults

Wondering aimlessly in the dark
Striking flint that won’t spark
Feeling my way for I lost my eyesight
Here comes the rain for lack of foresight

Submerged in tears not of my making
Old are my bones arthritic and acing
Left with nothing more than memories
No happy endings to romantic comedies

Sadness walks quietly shadows hand in hand
Flavors once so sweet now taste bland
Heartache in my doorway stands
Celibacy was never considered as part of the plans

Desperately trying to hold back the flood of pain
Drenched and batter soaked through from the rain
Perspective lost for this is totally insane
Wondered and got lost down lover’s lane

Waiting silently in darken places
Avoidance from all public spaces
Sounded the horns of retreat
Discomfort swollen trench are now my feet

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Not About This

It is not about the classic rivers
of mythology, not about Acheron,
river of woe with its lines of unemployed
holding their migraines in their hands.

Or Cocytus, river of lamentation
where the elderly have gone
to grieve their condition.

It cannot be this.

Not the river of fire,
the lava flowing from another volcanic shudder
into the homes of the living & the dead,
& into the stories of new generations.

For these are byproducts,

shining as they are-

It is not about the river of forgetfulness,
inviting as the night visits the tortured mind.
No, not this, or the waters of hate
& the butchered bodies stacked along shorelines
& the lost women trying to find their sons,

or the river of return,

not the red river of consolation
wound about the heart
& through the vineyards,
or how our loves came to be,
then left us again to ourselves.

It is not about the oldest & saddest river,
the river of time, with flashes of metallic film
sliding by, gathering momentum
& the sufaces of faces,
the faces of phantoms,
(I have seen myself among them.)

It cannot be about theology,
or if it is, it is the theology of celestial mechanics,
the giant narrative of everything,
the source of energy, (& its forms,)
crunching itself out through the heavens.

poem by Michael Gessner
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