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
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