Monday, November 3, 2014


The hospitals create miracles these days

Or at least

That’s what they call it

I see, I see

What they have created

With all of their knowhow

The wigs covering bald heads

False teeth perfectly made for the sick’s now drawn mouth

Perfectly straight

Perfectly able to clinch a new cigarette

Or maybe they’ll smoke it through their new trach

Anything to calm their nerves

From the thousands of dollars in bills coming in each week

To keep them alive

But is this alive or a walking nightmare for the patient? 

A paycheck for the doctor?

In the days of my youth

Folks, lived, loved, and simply died

They never cheated death and they never cheated life

They smoked

They drank

They loved

They lived

They died

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

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