Best Tumor Poems
There’s a tumor growing deep down in my soul
Pleading with me for full control
There’s a fire burning beyond within
Suffocating me in all my sin
There’s a revolution brewing beneath and between
All I have ever known and seen.
At times my life feels like a dream,
At times my life is not what it seems.
There’s a rabbit hole I’m falling through
Transforming all I’ve ever knew
There’s an emptiness that fades to black
I’m not sure how I will ever get back.
At times my life feels like a dream,
At times my life is not what it seems.
Pressure squeezes the essence of me
Its dark inside…I cannot see
Banging my head against all I find
Waiting for a definitive sign
There’s a rebellion draped in uncertainty
Constantly opposing and oppressing me
There’s a heart that once pounded on purpose
Now I live inside this circus
But I’m the only clown in here
I’m the one I have to fear.
At times my life feels like a dream
At times my life is not what it seems
Self is worse than any enemy
It’s what quietly tries to deceive me
I must break away from who I am
And get back up and try again
I must hold true to what is real
Allow myself to heal and feel
I must arrest the attacker in my head
Forgive all the things I did and said
I must raise the banner in an attempt to make peace
I must once and for all kill this beast.
At times my life feels like a dream
At times my life is not what it seems.
By:
It takes ten legs squeaking in sneakers
And eight rubber wheels heavily humming
On the checkered sparkling linoleum floor
To move a boy with a tumor
From one hospital floor to the next
For emergency tests
One nurse one doctor a technician leading the way
Mom and dad
Trailing the speeding parade with teddy bears and balloons
And faces full of frowns surrounding a white crib
And a mobile I.V. tower
Thrashing like an octopus fished from water
Whisk
Kicking down the hallways
Onlookers flattened against the walls
Get out of the way
And as all this passes by
From the corner of my eye
I see a creature on a gurney
Unattended
Parked to the side
Fossil of old woman with her head resting
On a mop of white hair
Everywhere
Her skeleton face framed like a crazed witch
No longer Queen dancing in the ballrooms
Toasting friends writing checks signing up her volunteers
Here she is
Abandoned
Vacuuming the stale air through her purple pursed lips
Eyes locked on my boy
Make way
Make way.
and what place is this,
she asked intrigued,
young non-binary ignorant of everything
that did not refer to gender.
-in this orchard I harvest our future tumor,
I told him, who was still amazed,
the bulging eyes of a student
doing his school research.
here I pick the transgenic apples,
I said, showing her the basket full of fruit.
-I drink boxed juices, he said;
there are vitamins in them,
it's written in the app...
and then he said his sister is autistic
and she loves to sit in the kitchen,
turning on and listening to the microwave sound.
a small plane dropped the defensive
and we saw the most colorful rainbow in the world
like a soda label on the plantation.
we will have a good harvest this year, I said.
guarantee of a good contract with the hospital,
I said smiling sarcastically.
seriously, she asked and i left the question sound
echo among the small apple trees in the orchard.
now the moon was smearing silver
a grayish sunset remnant.
then, an almost translucent father arrived
with the electric car, shaved face
of those who work with e-commerce.
from the window he said: we had dinner at nine,
let's go girl!
and I imagined this family under the LED lights,
charging cell phones beside the bed,
modern people with medical plans
that cover almost everything.
I said goodbye while turning on the flashlight.
at night I look for maggots in the apples,
but I never found any of them.
Reflected light is shimmering here,
finding me floundering in my fluff,
gazing at this shattered glass
as I dance, dance away, away.
I cut my bare toes -
sixty steps to the minute,
those sixty seconds, sixty seconds:
click-click, tick-tock, bop-bop.
Your shine dims like a dull, dull dime
in my battered brain, seeing the blood
on my toes, as they dance, prance
on the shattered shimmering glass.
A battered brain is shapeless stuff
that lets me flounder in my fluff.
The shattered brain sees shattered glass.
They'll take this tumour away.
Will humour return, humanity remain,
once I've danced, pranced
for those surgical folk in masks
who'll take knives to my brain?
(6/7 Feb 2023)
.
The neighborhood
is stirred as if
by a fiery furor.
Everyone trembles,
gasps with horrid
horror
as, at last, he clasps
and cuts the culprit
tumor
long ailing him with
tingling, painful
tremor.
Fatal to him now
to commit the slightest
error
when all he really needs
is just a sense
of humor!
.
Tethered to you by an
Umbilical cord of blame
Massive heart attacks
Of rejection serrate
Ripping through vagina of hate
8/10/11
Tumor consciousness
Tumor of the bloody brain,
lays me low and causes pain,
consciousness does slip an slide,
other lifetimes can't decide
which one is the self?
Leap aboard a ME109,
here are coming British swine,
tracers bouncing past just fine,
weave a little, stick back, smile,
never mind the Hitler heil,
inverted v12 thrumming,
climbing,
mein gott im flying.
Shake n shiver tremor over,
see the brown snake in the clover,
coming between she and me,
4 year old I bloody be,
biteys ,
grab Diana she be 2,
up the stairs to tell mum, too,
perhaps i'm getting older,
blinking with a flash of pain,
black and red and blue insane,
bloody big **** are a pain,
they are dragging down me shoulders,
who is that drooling jerk,
snickering a piece of work,
cod kick soon drops the perp,
i'll have fun when I get older?
Blinking twice, I look around,
fog is covering the ground,
sword or pistol is the call,
checking for a musket ball,
back to back the taste of gall,
and then we are a pacing,
10 is called we come about,
bullet sears my ear and mouth,
got his shoulder pain no doubt,
debt settled, pulse is racing.,..
old an grey I wait for death,
incontinence pads, piddle bags bereft,
at 5am they're coming,
to shave and shower they're humning,
but under the bed i'm strumming,
enjoyment in it yet,
invisible-becoming.
Don Johnson
looks like im posting
that means im home again
youth bruiser crewman
“She was your cousin?”
They would all echo,
their half-faux-sympathy was pathetic,
and it made me feel even
more so.
What would they have done
had they been privy to such knowledge before?
Invited me to parties?
Would I have gotten girls to go out with me?
At least I got to hear about how
great she was.
The cousin I barely knew…
who, through her passing--
through her friends,
I came to know more.
My Life As A Tumor
There is a rumor
that you are engaged now
to a big fat cow
who looks like a sow.
After I spent my best years
hanging out with your sour kiss
and now I'm not even missed.
Each day it's truer and truer
that life's just a load of manure
and I'm the biggest tumor in it.
Humor Tumor
Laughing Cells Rampant,
Smiling Exiting Tears by Slant
Cant, Skewed View Triumphant!
Diagnosis' free floating through re circulated air.
Sunken eyes, bald heads, aching bodies sit in chairs meant for comfort.
The scent of fear mingling with sickness and the faint tinge of hope.
Bodies having been pushed to the limits yet still going on.
Idle chit chat never made.
Deep conversations circling around a common denominator.
The dreaded "C" word.
My own story locked tight between pursed lips.
My eyes downcast, having heard these similar tales many times before.
My own condition hits hard as I settle in my own chair.
Knowing I have my own tumors that reside deep in my bones.
My medications at home lined on the counter,
Soldiers ready for the battle to stunt growth...
To help intravenous drugs freeze my illness.
To put it to sleep as if a fussy child.
My own prayers silently whispered...
Sleep needs to come and overtake these tumors.
My deepest fears long realized, long ago accepted.
Knowing that as sleep ever so slowly folds itself
Around my tumors the inevitable will happen.
Just as a fussy child fights sleep and once gives in
Rests deeply and peacefully...
As the child will awaken my tumors will awaken and then spread.
Most of these others here have cures.
I have the inevitable.
But I too have hopes.
I still have dreams.
I long for tomorrows held out of my grasp.
Battling for mental and physical strength to just push on.
To not give into the doubts and fears.
To know that I'm here for a reason.
May not be for the common good of mankind, but something.
My tumor talk spreads as words on paper,
Not floating on currents of air or streams of blood.
My tumor talk once written can now begin my legacy of passed on hope.
Of being here to witness tomorrows that blessedly,
Have been put in my hands and those of others.
. Heart Heart t r a e
Heart H
Heart Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart HHH
Heart HHH
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Heart
Hea
He H
H H H
the neighborhood is stirred
as if by a fiery furor
everyone trembles, gasps
with horrid horror
as, at last, he catches and cuts
the culprit tumor
long ailing him with tingling,
painful tremor
fatal to him now to commit
the slightest error
when all he really needs is just
a sense of humor.
Our love is like a tumor;
It grows and grows and grows,
And that can be so wonderful,
unless it’s on your nose.
Our love is like a tumor;
It makes me want to shout,
But after six months, baby,
It’s time to cut it out.
Our love is like a tumor;
It started out with ease,
But now it feels a lot more like
A terminal disease.
Our love is like a tumor:
A surging love, so great.
But it’s become disfiguring;
It’s time to radiate.