just asthma

But doctor they told me it was just asthma,
the atopic wheeze and mucus laden lungs I have lived with all my life
how can this be?
how can death be so close, they told me it was just asthma!

The tears doctor,
I shed them in anger
each one for the lost days ahead
for the ruined memories
and those I will leave behind.

But doctor they told me my heart was healthy,
strong as an ox, beating on like the drums during the rage of battle,
keeping the pace for eternity, locked in this chest below the shrapnel of war.

How can death be so close doctor,
why did they not tell me in No'Orleans,
I told them it wasn't asthma
and that steroids were not the cure.

Why doctor? Why?
I should have been a better patient,
I should have told them so!
No doctor I will not give up,
I will never give up, I am not a lost cause,
but doctor, they told me it was just asthma!

sleep now my father

sleep now my father
drift away into the catacombs,
you will find her there
your long lost love.

she passed far before you
and traveled leagues beyond,
yet in your mind she was always there
lost in the slow decay of synaptic transmission.

now you rest beyond our grasp
and what remains are the memories we keep
our lost transmissions
encoded in cerebral alchemy.

you survived holocaust and starvation
yet your greatest battle was her love and affection
for she scorned you in death
and marked you with the ink of guilt and regret.

your intellect lost deep in the cortex
yet your strength and rhythm never left you
for those belonged only to you;
she could not control that which she did not possess.

sleep now my father,
pass in gentle dreams of love and admiration
knowing that your fruit has grown strong and ripe.
rest now my father,
in the solice of their bond
a love born from devotion and pride.

banished

I smell your essence,
deep in my soul beyond reason,
induced only by this wretched intoxication.

Excise this wound:
drain the purulent memories,
the septic torment of your anguish.

Draw me closer no more,
for I banish you into the tortured recesses
of this diseased mind.

death of a student

Swirl the aroma ,
volatalize the tannin
inhale the fermintation and savor the love.

Know in this moment your distant place,
deep in the halls of suffering and salvation
a dark force where pain and torture is an honest form of healing.

She is lost in the distance
a joy of life and union for which you have sacrificed
will be your ultimate tug-of-life.

Slide the canula deep within the viscera
order the stab wounds and reap the defintive diagnosis
I speak the reality of disease:
a sound so fetid and scorned that as the syllables pass these lips
life ends and death begins.

You died on the slab today
I was only trying to prolong your eternal death
and you slipped beyond my controlling grasp.

How dare you escape into the light and warmth of heaven
I was not done with you, I had more pain to inflict, more questions to ask,
and far more insight to gain.

Did you not know you were my selfish pursuit, my academic endevour!
Read between the lines,
we foster mistakes
encourage exploration
in the wake of your loss, pain, suffering and death.