an obsolete disease

[the mingo]

my mother was no werewolf
as a young girl polio only laid her up
it didn't bring her down

decades later i was with her
when she was being examined
for cancer
a young doctor said to her
"Polio - an obsolete disease"

i wanted to take that young doctor
a product of massive amounts of ignorance & education
strip him naked
cut off his eyelids
shrivel the motor nerves to his legs
and one of his hands
just like his obsolete disease did
to my mother
take him out into the woods
and coat him with
the scent of rotting meat
and the musk of my own urine
and leave him there

God stayed my hand on that
a saving grace for which
i have never fully thanked Him

[SadLuckDame]

I wish I could hug you for the next few days,
you know like Boo the bear and keep it as warm as possible.
Only thing I know how to do is to try to walk out the distance in dreams and bring what I can of friendship to that dream-self of yours.

[the mingo]

Thx, Doll.

[stilltrucking]

"high brow people lose their sanity"
she was a good old girl my ma
a real live east baltimore cow girl
a litttle hypocritical about keeping kosher with that mighty smitey god of her mothers before her. She loved those Maryland steamed crabs too much.
I remember the day she was on what was not to be her death bed
We all thought it was going to be her death bed. Rose
at peace with her G d, with no fear of death. We asked her so mom do you want the heroics do you want the doctors to resucitate
no she said. She could hardly speak after the heart attacks, the stroke, the cancer, the diabetes, the pneumonia. So when the doctor slipped in and went against her wishes and kick started her heart with a pace maker without asking us or her physician son. He wanted to strangle that heroic doctor. She lived another two weeks, of struggling for every breath. ready and waiting to die but with that tiny little battery continually kick starting her heart again.

It worked out for the best, she was able to die at home among her familiar surroundings, not in a hosptital surrounded by strange beeping noises and voices reverberating down long empty hallways. What does it matter where she died? I guess it don't matter It just seemed she was grateful that we brought her home to die. She was at that edge between life and death as we know it and she had no fear. I wish her daughter had come to peace with her but no that was to take another twenty years. Never too late for a mother's love.
Nothing to do with this I guess but
I always like that dickinson poem about the surgeon and "the culprit life"

Surgeons must be very careful.
When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions. Stirs the Culprit - Life!

Speaking of knives:
I remember the day after the day after my Rose of San Antone died
I was on a freight dock in Laredo reaching in my pocket for a knife to cut the big Texican's throat the second he turned his back on me. But it was not G d that stopped me. It was the voice of reason. All I had in my pocket was a little pen knife with a one inch blade that I used to cut plastic shrink wrap. And it had a dull edge. Well I don't know steve, maybe "the voice of reason" is the same as saying God.
Or as j would write it, G d.

Funny he had not done anything to hurt me, it was just the way he verbally pissed on my leg.

Wonderful poem steve
pardon the ramble
poetry the only known cure for obsolete diseases.


God never stopped me from killing anyone, and I never really wanted to hurt anyone, only just to kill them quickly and easily with no suffering, just a quick bang bang your dead like we used to play soldiers when we were kids.

What has stopped me from killing, never planned no perfect murders never thought about gettting away with it, the only time I put a long nights thought into killing someone. I am not sure if it was the mundane hope that comes with seeing the first light at the dawn of a new day, or karma that stopped me from killing. It just wasn't worth it I thought, a life time of running and watching my back, or worse .

I wish doreen would put a disclaimer on the poetry board, warning if you post a poem here you may be harrangued by long rambling tangental replies by me.

This not so much about mothers for me steve
More about an old country song
lord help me jesus I know what I am

[Kailashana]

Forgive me for intruding. But this is the best damn poetry site around!

You make me want to stay around a bit more.

~A

[judih]

Forgive me for intruding. But this is the best damn poetry site around!

You make me want to stay around a bit more.

~A

yes, you said it, An(n)a

[Kailashana]

Sometimes I get to the wtf? point. And then I come here.

~A

[the mingo]

Thx everyone - Doll, Jack, Anna, judih

[Arcadia]

damn yeah... , obsolete wars, obsolete diseases ...

i wanted to take that young doctor
a product of massive amounts of ignorance & education
strip him naked
cut off his eyelids
shrivel the motor nerves to his legs
and one of his hands
just like his obsolete disease did
to my mother
take him out into the woods
and coat him with
the scent of rotting meat
and the musk of my own urine
and leave him there

I felt some kind of strangle-like fury against an old oncologist some time ago, but later the only one strangled was myself...
My uncle (father´s side) and his wife had polio, we were celebrating his 80th birthday last december, he´s still alive & kicking in his wheelchair...

love the poetic fury in this poem, it creates a lot of space, gracias mingo!!!