Best Dysentery Poems
1. Facing life courageously with eyes downcast
happiness and peace not part of the forecast
amidst proud siblings, the only one timid
uncertainty in the air, densely humid
fine drink for all but taking a thimbleful
for true protection, the gods get my handful
glued to excuses and flaws of temperaments
leaving the ungodly to make side comments.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kings
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
2. Powers of men become diversionary
many unreal strengths, claiming to tonify
following masked demons to drop in centers
to acquire, to hold but nowhere rustic
drinks all to suffer spiritual dysentery
from a castle, jumping to a rotunda
to the things of God, becoming a rascal
a walking tapir in the midst of Tigers.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
3. He has suffered it all in his first coming
can come of age his glorious second coming
it is never too late by his reckoning
now is the time to have a rite of passage
men can brag and make you have a reverie
other gods can fight to seem in rivalry
but run to him for the clear and blameless dress
for when its time, his glow no one can repress.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
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SOMEONE IN THE WORLD DIES FROM Diarrhea,
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SOMEONE IN THE WORLD DIES FROM Cholera
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15 seconds SOMEONE IN THE WORLD DIES FROM Dysentery
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15 seconds SOMEONE IN THE WORLD IS DEAD FROM Typhoid,
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15 seconds SOMEONE IN THE WORLD DIES FROM Guinea worm
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15 SOMEONE IN THE WORLD DIES FROM Hepatitis
Where is the funding for clean water/ sanitation to stop them?
A tornado comes and goes so quick
Sometimes revisiting on the same day
Air humid, breathing hard and thick
Best advice given…get out of its way
Sounds like freight train bearing down
Delivers this –Varoommmmmmmmmm
Next best advice--don’t live in a valley
Respite from twisters in Oklahoma town
Not possible— it’s tornado alley
Here’s the scoop
May 5, 1960…The date of the natural crime
Wilburton, Oklahoma…quiet and boring
Me…my life, smooth and in my prime
Outside, trouble brewing, rain pouring
No wind—then dark---storm clouds
Sudden change and all so loud
No way to stop---nature makes it way
Tornadoes F4 hit twice that day
Up one hill, down in the valley, another hill
A path right through main street
Wiped out fifteen blocks with shocking skill
Score tornado 16, town 0…no receipt
Sadly, sixteen dead, hundreds hurt
Think disaster, destruction, devastation
Hail equates baseballs—certain disconcert
Wind 250 miles per hour, an aberration
On a personal note
Mom, sister, and I alone
Little sister told to put football helmet on
I get only, “You better pray. Don't groan."
Three females in bathtub…no put-on
Scared, hoping this was a no drop zone
First cyclone over…it was no spoof
Uh, oh, second one took the roof---
But not us…Prayed and prayed
God was there, though fear stayed
What happens next...nothing good
Can’t drink the water…
Dysentery, typhoid, cholera—it could
Can’t go to school
Smushed-–classes postponed
Can’t go to church
Smashed---future unknown
Can’t find food
Red Cross helps pick up the tone
Friends hurt, one killed
One man up in the swirl…
Carried him about a mile—life unfulfilled
No limbs left—no head to twirl
People scared another will hit
The normal long gone—some split
Build shelters, that's the name of the game
Yet, life did go on... but nothing ever the same
There's no need to boil drinking water
from a fresh water stream
if your intention is to afflict yourself
with a dose of dysentery.
In 1588 Sir Francis Drake,
over a game of bowls, his time he did take.
Saying I’ll play my game before England’s fate.
So the Spanish will just have to wait!
There once was a young sailor named Drake,
who some thought was a bit of a flake.
On Plymouth Hoe he stood
while playing with his wood
not knowing that history he'd make.
Drake was from the Elizabethan era
finishing his game as Spain drew nearer.
A stubborn man and quite contrary
until he died of dysentery!
The Great Lie
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
I believed that once
I laughed and chatted to my friend
As we boarded the troopship
To take us to the far side of the world
Never been abroad before
We were excited in Colombo
Marvelled at Singapore
Fell in love with Hong Kong
Then north to the fighting
My task, set up and operate a field x-ray department
Wherever I look there's mud
Ubiquitous mud
Even the women, four foot by foot with a ‘tach, smell of mud
Bill said 'but that one's not bad'
They shipped him out, he's gone mad
It all seems quiet
Is there a war?
One night we hear the thunder
Of heavy guns
Then only in a few hours
They come like a flood
The laughing smiling young boys I knew
Now bloody, broken dying old men
What is so bloody sweet?
This is not our home
Days and days went by
With no respite
Amoebic dysentery struck
A major battle raged
My patients come
Like a tide
A remorseless powerful tide
With broken limbs to be X-rayed
So I, with *****running down my legs
Stood there without protection and X-rayed them one by one
How bloody sweet indeed
I had never seen Death before
A lull, and they hose me down and my floor
But still they come
I mourn the loss of so many
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
Sweet my ****
I curse the cynic who coined this lie
Quintus Horatius Flaccus should have been strangled at birth
And still they come
Hoping for succour
Hoping for relief from pain
Some times only the peace of death is theirs
Some welcome him; you can see it in their eyes
We are not uplifted but coarsened
A callous round our hearts protects us
And still they come
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
O Christ the Guns are louder
Are they nearer?
Dysentery cured
Still I *****myself
This time in fear
Only discipline holds me to my post
And still they come
Dulce et Decorum est pro Patria mori
It's in Latin so it must be true?
And still they come
O God will it never end
I'm tired but have no backup
I'm on my own and near despair
Then the tide of battle changed
The flood drops to a trickle
I could sleep now.
And she is not bad, warm and gentle
Who cares about a little 'tach
And she's brought me tea
I will sleep now
Until it starts again
As a talisman around my neck, I wear a glass magnifier.
Now where ever and whenever there is sun, I can make myself a fire
and cook food I have scavenged to kill any harmful bacteria,
or boil water free of all parasites that can cause dysentery and diarrhea,
or for the warmth my body needs to prevent possible hypothermia,
or as protection from any local life threatening wild predators.
As an added precaution I also always carry a disposable lighter,
in case darkness falls upon me before I can make my campfire,
but I only use my disposable lighter very rarely.
because it will run out of fuel eventually
and anytime I need fire when fire can't be
is an official life threatening fire emergency.
You won't have any chance of surviving in the wilderness successfully
if you don't make harnessing Fire your number one priority.
Once upon a time when I was just but a little a boy
My grandmother of illustrious memory – told me many a story
A lot of them funny but some scary
But her favourite tale which I am about to retell
Its effect on me, i suppose should not tell
The one about the young man who refused to marry
Preferring to become an ascetic to the displeasure of his family
For they were inclined to believe – that all those who breathe in air
Surely must leave an heir!
His refusal to marry – pained them all
And many a plan were hatched to sway his mind – but to no avail
Confounded they approached the village sage to explain this mystery
Who cautioned the young man would soon have a case of dysentery
Serious enough to require hospitalization – but one that won’t send him to the cemetery
And as soon as the illness is past, he would surely marry
With this wisdom the family went home rejoicing and merry
Voices high and throaty marveling at this new found posterity
By and by the young man was struck down with dysentery
And no sooner had he recovered he married the village beauty
Much to the amusement of his family who knew all that had happened to the boy
This story my grandmother would recite
Countless times to us little boys long into the night
Toss and turn, turn and toss all night long but our little minds could not fathom
What the young man’s decision to marry had to do with dysentery!
And when I told my fellows at school this story
Don’t know am sure, whether it was under the mulberry or at the refectory
They all agreed that my grandmothers wisdom
Which she had tossed to me sitting at her mahogany was nothing but baloney
When I recounted this to her, she smiled complacently
Aware this curios case of beauty and dysentery I would cherish for eternity.
Arriving from unknown somewhere
He set up clinic in the market square
Declared he could cure any disease
Using herbal drugs of plants and trees
Townsfolk being credulous
Soon to his shop began to rush
Diabetics, rheumatics, asthmatics flooded
None over his degree brooded
A few weeks later, afloat was this rumor
He cures for he rightly detects the humor
Realizing that every client is a prospective fan
He talked in technical terms even with laymen
He would expose his victims to numerous medical terms
Also trade-names, contents, firms, diseases and germs
Just to exhibit erudition and sound philosophy
Without occasion he embarked on learned topics
Often dwelt on sedatives and epilepsy
Or discoursed at length on tumor and biopsy
Then in a torrent of rodomontade would relate
Histories of cases cured with specific names and date
Discourses full of references to Ayurvedic treatises
Madhav, Charak, Susrut and other varieties
To prove his point he recited aloud original excerpts
As a result ,he soon won the epithet: "expert of experts"
"Discourteous ingrates! They even do not thank
Though I give 'em new life" exclaimed the mountebank.
Always eager to spar against allopathy
At the slightest provocation he would lecture on allopathic hazards
Or would lament on untidy hospitals and unhygienic wards
Boldly averring: "To hide anything from patients is a deadly sin"
Within no time he became a celebrity
His tricks worked and brought him publicity
After a year DHO came to see him in person
And sought his counsel for his sick son
A minister's car at his doorstep halted
Just to enhance libido and weakness treated
He gave the minister powerful mercury dust
Which triggered his vigor and inflamed his lust
Then to CM's ears reached his fragrant fame
Who called him secretly telling him not to declare name
MPs in turn heard of this rare phenomenon
And turned up to consult him one by one
Director drug control came to seek his advice
For chronic dysentery and perennial bronchitis
At length PM had to send him his compliments
For service to nation and" particular "patients
The whole world acknowledged him as master of his craft
But a person knew his truth in his own staff
His compounder knew his master was a fake
But he swallowed the secret for heaven's sake
I am disturbed by something
And you say this can’t be a great line of a poem
But what can I do, I stop writing poetry
At a stretch sixteen hours without a poem
Is like a year I am without rain
Having food at home and I am going hungry
I could not take them as if I have teeth ache
Or have pain in stomach and suffering from dysentery
Nothing like that friend
I was thinking on how to write a poem
A poem that would bring peace and abolish war
To fetch that I got pain on my back
Jam the dead and stiff my neck
And soul got tear and wear and mood went bitter
No poem like sweet potato came forth
And the bitter fruit that I got can’t give you
So went without a poem sixteen hours at a stretch.
Cyclone Cyclops
Abundant rain and profusion,
Darkness, wind and confusion,
Tempests; Cyclone is hungry
It tosses brick, man and sundry.
Womb of Heaven’s rupture
Bourne in wings of angry Nature
Celestial Dogs has set loose-
Pegasus too, broke the noose....
Topsy-turvy; Nature tumbles
‘Afore angry Nature’s rumbles
Twisting every structure
And snapping every suture!
Lo! Hell is roiling in solid snow
High hills bow flat and low-
Deep rivers ‘rise’ in waves
That stirs cold, forgotten graves.
You run to the high mountain
Which refuses to entertain....
“Kill me. Here’s the knife!”
None wants to take your life!
The loft turns pretty slippery
Under the sodden drapery.
To hide, dive in a frozen river
And surface with a fever or shiver.
Cyclops who is mad and angry
Inundating with slimy dysentery,
When silent goes his angry tone
Know, the monster is now gone.
‘Remnants’ of life and self gather
Again, to begin to be a father.
For, debris left in the mad wake
Leaves mind ceaselessly awake!
JM
09th February 2014
Yucatan, etc.
Cortez, DeMille are gone.
It's now the locus
of postgraduate honeymoons,
urban fugues, a minor literary genre.
Knowledge and ejection predispose us
to technological parody--
antique busses, burros, plumbing, pyramids--
as if nothing ever caught on.
There is no CHRONOLOGY, the pace and mores
are too counterproductive--
poster Indians pee along the road,
the women never dust.
We like the Sartrean-Spanish askewness--
bugs, sex, dysentery, moonlight--
as if, though settled with us,
the Fates vacation here.
Creator V Imitator
God created a bee
giving honey for free
Devil, housefly
cholera an' dysentery.
God bestows rain
to sprout the grain
Devil, drought
giving people naught.
God made all rivers
an' aquatic divers
Devil, desert
Thirst an' no dessert.
God made the Sky
so that we can fly
Devil, Hell
Where it is not well!
God alone Above
made piety an' love
Devil, Hate
an' unending fate.
God created Life,
mirth and not strife
Devil, Dearth
an' a coffin wreath.
God created Mars
and all the stars
Devil, Diarrhoea
an' epilepsy of Maria!
God created bowers
with racy flowers
Devil, Thorns
prickly as his horns!
God created a voice
for both girls an' boys
Devil, numbness
an' stark dumbness.
God created sight
in gloom to see light
Devil, Blindness
and infinite darkness!
God created taste
to savour soup o' paste
Devil, things bitter
that tongues fritter.
God created sound
where melodies abound
Devil, Discord
like a broken record.
God created 'Soupers'
never to be floppers
Devil, all so prosaic
blind to poetic mosaic!!!
08th Sept' 2013
The Problem Is
Quickly we throw in the towel
Like sheep to quail and grovel
We think Problems is Nature
And, misery is Human Culture
We’re neck-deep in dire Need
Accepting it like a noble Creed
We believe Others know it all
Ours is to knock heads on a wall
We then stop to think or to try
Hopeless a Pig will never fly!
We sit a beggar’s bowl in hand
“We’re the wretched of the land”
We look up the blue Heaven
For Bread that is not leaven!
When we hunger we curse God
When we sate we forget God.
When we over eat to dysentery
We cry and say: “God is angry!”
*
Greed light the Road we tread
To rob others of scarce bread
We are drunk and stop to think
When in Love our Hearts sink
We cheat and get away with it
Then celebrate it as novel wit
We pray with one eye closed
And believe the Heart is glossed
When the Devil’s hand shakes
We’re damn miserable wrecks!
The problem is we’re a problem
Which begets another problem.
The Problem which is a Problem:
How best to solve this Problem!
JM
13th Nov’ 2013
A young dead woman named Bloody Mary
for Halloween dressed as the good fairy.
At the mirror she beamed.
No one let out a scream.
BUT many still had dysentery!