** We need to be as ruthless as cancer when it comes to funding research into fighting it and curing it ... I hope this poem makes folks angry for just that reason. Please give what you can. Thank you. **
========================================
'Tis I, your ruin ... I, the scourge, unseen ... the "C" word I am death's abettor, the bête noire So do your worst, in my ruthless wake The cold chaos of cells that rages rampant Weaponizing blood and bone and marrow ... and breath Seething untrammeled as the burn of abandon, afire I play no favorites, I see no chalk or choice Health is the meat of my prerogative, the blood of my intent I strip vitality and strength from bones like a butcher And hang them raw to be branded ... "terror" I scrape beauty and flesh to maim motherhood, passion I divest masculinity of its vital seed, choke the air from lungs, gasping I ravage little lives before they begin, to glaze their sparkling eyes I plunder and rape and kill in a thousand myriad fashions One no less callous or malevolent than the other And the only weapons you have to raise against me - your only hopes Are near as vicious and unappeasable as I am, (smiling) Oh, hear me and fear me, humankind ... I am chasing, relentless ... your ruin. ~ 5th Place ~ in the "Topic Of Cancer" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
