noetic

empty echoes of I love you
nothing more than xenon
minute traces
enveloped in clouds
of narcissism
vacuous emotional calories
opiates for the masses
vacant heartless robotic
repetitive soliloquies
without substance
desensitizing minds
automated reactions to
cardboard reflections
of anorexic arthropods
lacking the resplendency
of a noetic soul

acerbic

distorted reflections
captured
by webbed fractures
in the dust covered
glass
of a victorian mirror
malformed memories
tendrils
tangled in grayness
decomposing brain
matter
acerbic to the tongue
twisted reactions
ruminate
within the banshees
replicated cries
venerating
life’s deprivation

And The Winner Is.....

And the winner is, by the length of the sigmoid colon: DIVERTICULITIS. Lucky, lucky me. And I want to nominate the holder of my personal voodoo doll for curser of the year.

The diverticulitis, if you have not already guessed, is located in the area of the sigmoid colon. Besides the cipro which I am already on I will begin the regime of a second antibiotic tomorrow. Once some and/or all of the swelling clears up, hopefully when I finish the antibiotics I will be refered to a gastrointestinal doctor. Who will as I understand it have the undeserved privilege of sticking my hairy bum in the air and inserting a camera for some up close and personal film of my colon. I am sure that he/she has been waiting with baited breath for this rare opportunity.

Once the process is complete and the data is processed a long term diagnosis will be made.

Until than to cover any out of plan costs film of the colonoscopy will be available for $19.95 or two for $25.00.

fractured.....

glasses
with fractured lenses
clung to dust
beneath the front porch swing
a briefcase
cover torn and tattered
perched not unlike a tent
on the first of seven stairs
contracts
formed a squadron
of badly folded airplanes
scattered about the snow
a tie
without a knot
covered with martians
hung limply from a gnarled and naked branch
a belt
of hand tooled leather
no longer with a buckle
trampled in the mud
dry
concrete where the car
once stood
stark against the ice
letters
written in yellow snow
sorry
but I just had to go

Momdate: dr. god SPEAKS

The trials and tribulations of my mothers healthcare took a recent and surprising turn.

A week ago Friday she was in Palm Springs for an appointment with her self centered, egotistical, I can do no wrong oncologist, better known as dr. god. The planets must of been aligned properly. Maybe he won a round of golf. Or possibly it was the day my mom should have been playing the lottery rather than sitting in his stuffy office. Whatever the reason, dr. god deigned to speak from on high lowering himself to discuss my mother's case with her of all people, who just so happens to be his patient.

Apparently the medication he prescribed is working to some degree. While the bone cancer is to ingrained to be completely eliminated it has been corralled or slowed down in a sense. The numbers they count to monitor her cancer level have fallen from a high of 2400 to a new low of the mid 200's. Which is indicative of the cancer becoming as close to dormant as a cancer can. This is a much better prognosis than was expected.

My mom believes that he spoke to her because she was was his last appointment of the week. In her mind no more patients meant more time for her.

I beg to differ. Until this past week she appeared to be a patient who was on the short rode to nowhere. No hope, no need for dr. god to involve his ego. From what I have seen/heard he only takes time with patients that make him look good. If he expects you to kick the bucket you become part of his assembly line in one door out the other with barely a chance to say hello. When she was at her sickest he would barely acknowledge her, I mean for Pete's sake in the past he would do his dictation as he spoke to her. This time no dictation. Hence she is doing better and he wants his ego stroked.

Things have also improved on the heart front. Last month she was slipping into heart failure. With only two-thirds of her heart functioning at a normal level there is not much room for any degradation. Her cardiologist, who is always involved, changed her meds and her heart has made a comeback. The heart failure has been curbed and her heart has shown improvement.

On Saturday mom leaves for ten days in Rome with my sister. A trip as recently as a month ago she thought she would have to miss.

All Is Not Well In The Well

Murmurs has been silent for most of the past week due to another round of health problems. Besides the mundanely familier lung problems my left kidney has been acting up. This is nothing new as I have renal papalary necrosis in that kidney. The latest greatest medical problem appears at least at the moment to be diverticulitis in the lower left portion of the colon. Severe pain. Fever. Some nausea. Difficulty in sitting for extended periods and basic overall exhaustion has become the norm over the past few days. Tests will be run in the early part of next week. The possibility of surgery is looming which will really, really, I mean really piss me off. Because with my luck it will happen before Wed. Why is that a problem you may ask yourself? It is a problem because I have tickets Wed. night for the Eagles concert at the Staple Center. Surgery will kind of get in the away of my attendance. Which will really, really, I mean really suck. Since I last saw the Eagles perform in 1980 I was kind of looking forward to the show. However, if things go bad with diverticulitis they can go real bad real fast. As in call the morturary you will never, ever see the Eagles live again bad. Dead maybe, but never alive. So weighing the options I guess my health will have to come first. Unless anyone out there in the land of blog knows anything about reversing curses. Because after the last almost three years I am sure that someone, somewhere has a voodoo doll that resembles me full of more needles than a cacuts.

sleep deprivation

a cry of mama
shatters the darkness
loud enough to disturb

the unborn and the undead
filled with enough fear
to pierce his subconcious
in a cold sweat
he claws through a fog
coming awake
with heart in his throat
trembling hands
wipe a clammy brow
logic tells him the house

is still empty
but logic is useless at three a.m.
fear requires a search of each room
with flashlight in hand
every square foot is checked
for demons, groundlings, ghosts
and closet monsters
until solitude is once again
confirmed
that’s when it hits him
the cry did not come
from outside of his room
the cry came from within
where his soul still trembled
trapped in a moment
of unbearable darkness
where witches carve
demonic symbols in skin
ogres gnaw on unfettered bones
where rainbows
are promises of pain to come
ghosts bear witness
to confessions unholy
and where even angels
fear to tread
he fights through his fear
searching for solace
a place of peace
where sleep was once welcomed
restful and free
now sleep
sleep was just a memory
rest cannot be found
four a.m.
and infomercials
bring him back down
allowing a kind of
tossing and turning
until sunlight
allows for hope once again
maybe tomorrow
the sheep will return