Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

It’s both red and crimson 

Same you say? But different. 

It looks smaller than anything else you’ve prescribed
but in the end
it’s all just another cocktail -
   a cocktail of substances trying to keep me alive 
   or sane
   or both. 

Sane

Lack of sleep is woeful 
as a life of permanent jet lag 
confuses the mind
like a heavy London smog
before they cleaned up their act

or for those unable to recall
Singapore enveloped in Indonesia’s haste
to burn all before them 
satisfying the greed that the essence of palm
may  grease the hands
of those whom welfare has forgotten. 

Sane?

I fear not. 

250: get off the street!
Red welts and leg pains increase
as clots and other pulmonary concerns 
caused by pollutents
send me deep into the intensive care of
expensive foreign concerns

This one is red and crimson. 

Same you say, but different 
trying to keep me sane. 

Compounded, you assure 
Confounded, I demure. 

Will it give me rest
or merely knock me out
sending me to restless slumber 
full of dungeons and dragons
and sick puppies all needing me to help?

Two-toned red. 

Trust me, I’m your doctor. 

Trust me, I have to take the infernal thing. 

Sleep, o sleep, why hast thou abandoned me?

Shades of red and land of Nod
beckons...

I hope

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