Ulcerated Colon

THE ULCERATED COLON U.C. I I wander through my dark--a mournful soul-- chastised--and to the point of no return, from feeling I may die--and less than whole, with ev'ry beat of life--I sting and burn! An acid feeling borned from deep in me, encompassing my ev'ry living cell-- and though I'm with the world--or seem to be-- all that I am--is where no words can tell-- and searching for the peace--some where in space, a tiny speck of hope--to pain no more-- until I'm brought back to the human race by misery of what life has in store. And when I take the pause--I never know what ugliness my body's letting go. U.C. II That vilest of the vile--of all I've known-- lays tainted by the blood I hold so dear, accompanied by mucous--or alone-- it shakes my heart right to my greatest fear. Oh! Lord--lay not mine eyes--onto these things-- but what's been normal throughout all my youth, such beauty's not beheld--until life brings-- the ugly passing on--of my uncouth! And grant an understanding--of it all-- to those who never know the pain of it. Yea--never might they have to climb the wall-- nor have to pray life lets them live a bit. If guilt be mine--I've paid ten thousand ways-- enough to compensate--for all my days! © ron wilson arbuthnot aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet