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Thirty-Eight, Cancer Poem: For Sharon
Thirty Eight ( Corny Cancer Poem) For Sharon Hallmark has a million cards in their catalog And not one of them says, Life Sucks American greetings had nothing that says Thirty-eight and Never coming home So I hope it’s not too late to write this poem After your eighth round of Chemo, The Doctor says the best medicine is prayer Any Pre-med drop out Or High school Health student Can interpret what this means But it still just isn’t fair- Still who am I to be a pessimist? And I apologize for screaming at your surgeons (Telling them to stop comparing your tumors to fruit) For telling them you aren’t a damn fruit stand Even for tossing those fruit diagrams In the Hazmat can Sorry if I let things get out of hand Tomorrow they get to pull out Their zapper instruments And shoot at your cells like you are One of those Nintendo video games Over and over again And I get to sit in the waiting room Hoping the red cells surrender And the white ones win And Tylenol has a zillion dollars And can’t even find a cure for cancer Bayer pharmaceuticals has no answer And if you die at thirty-eight I’ll probably boycott Tylenol For the next twenty-three years Advil for the next twenty-two Blaming both of them For not saving you Forty calls to Bayer pharmaceuticals And not a single one returned What kind of heroes are they When they aren’t even concerned? And I’m pissed off at Obama And Dr. Phil and Oprah too And all Nationally syndicated talk show host Who are talking about who slept with who When they should be talking about YOU I’m also ticked at a thousand Nazis And twenty millions gangbangers And eight-hundred serial killers Who have working organs When all you need is just one- Still I know you wouldn’t even accept it Even if there was a law that said you could And you would say something corny like God loves bad people as much As he does the good And i wish i could snatch half of my lymph nodes And give them to you But no Doctor would approve the surgery So what else can i do Except write this silly poem for you except watch you lose weight and hair And listen to doctors suggest prayer And more chemo only means More Hallmark moments at the hospital And more crying, more dying More doctors and chaplains lying But mostly I’ll never get to figure out How it took you thirty minutes At Build-A-Yogurt in the mall And they only had six flavors- Even after I told you Chocolate Coconut Sprinkle Was really the best of all Tonight your children get to sleep in your bed And pretend You’re coming home And I get to cry for them and finish This corny cancer poems
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