'The Bearer of Bad News'
All around you lay
The sick and the dying,
Calling out for help
While you go on denying
Unmasking legions
Misleading crowds,
Basically handing them
Their own death shrouds
You are no authority
You are no physician,
Just a man abusing
His mighty position
Responsible for those
The pandemic did kill,
All the while denying
And doing it still
No more ears listen to
The bearer of bad news,
I wouldn't want to be
The wearer of your shoes.
At the back of my palate
Near the top of my throat
Lies a region as holy
As the blood of a goat
Now feeling numb
Insensitive to scent
I wonder just where
My smell mojo went
Will COVID return it?
Can olfaction come back
As piercing and strong
As a hammering jack?
It comes in quite handy
In professions like mine
Where years have been spent
Designing a fragrance line
Cheese tastes like rubber
Soup like salt slurry
Coffee’s thick water
Hurry, nose, hurry!
Once you’re back in my life
I’ll be sure to cherish
Your powerful gifts
Till the day that I perish
Perceiving dimensions
Sensing textures and pitch
My nose, bump and all,
Has made my life rich
For granted I took it
Even knowing the threat
Now it’s on strike
And I’m starting to fret
“Wait a week,” they all say
And I don’t have a choice
By next Wednesday, I hope,
I’ll partake in rejoice!
When I left the high school for the last time
on Friday, March 13
I thought we’d be closed for a week.
Maybe Two.
I told my students to enjoy the week off.
I didn’t bother saying goodbye to the students
I didn’t have that day.
I left a water bottle in my room.
I left a stack of papers, ungraded.
I left a sweater.
I left homework written on the board.
I miss my students.
I miss even the annoying ones.
I miss the busy halls and filled-up lunchroom.
I miss the hectic joy of graduating seniors.
I wish we knew, when we left, that we were leaving
Because now we’re gone
And the school is a ghost town
But the ghosts have all left.
Is it really colder this winter?
Or is the world growing colder towards one another?
Shouldn’t it have been cooler rather than colder?
The sounds of machine guns held by men toting them have replaced those of snow guns…
Where snow blades should have been seen,
Bladed weapons are umpteen,
No church bells can be heard,
But they are simply tolling for the dead.
Men are not masked as Santa Claus spreading joy,
But rather the sickness by going around without masks with an intent to destroy…
Not yet another thrilling winter but…
Such a chilling winter! Such a chilling winter!
Well, they’ll omicron you when you’re trying to be so good
They’ll omicron you just a-like they said they would
They’ll omicron you when you’re tryin’ to go home
Then they’ll omicron you when you’re there all alone
But I would not feel so all alone
Everybody must get omicroned.
Lonely and in coldness
Mice hiding in burrows
Alone with no sunlight
“There is no wolf” some cry
But the wolf is quite real
Real as the sun itself
Waiting for him to pass
While the wolf lurks for food
Cares not for colour or gender
“My pups won’t be hunted”
But he will follow them
And find the older mice
Whispers of deaths linger
Growing like a long snake
In every part of land
“The white mice have brought him”
Some say this, and fight them
But white mice face death too
The field is quiet
The forest is silent
Green with no white or brown
“No mouse has seen the wolf”
It lives in the shadows
Leaving bones and silence
Disguise by wearing leaves
To have better chances
Of him not finding them
“Leaves are dangerous”
Leaves have no hint of harm
And are there as disguise
Lonely and in coldness
Not seeing other mice
Waiting for the huntsman
“The huntsman can kill mice”
He rarely murders mice
And is our only hope
Written by Gail DeBole
On December 8, 2021
Updated on February 6, 2025
Before his fans entered the funeral’s door
They all read a sign that they couldn’t ignore.
The sign listed rules to be followed by his fans
Who had come to show respect for this funny man.
He wanted to make sure his mourners stayed safe.
To not follow these mandates would not help their fate.
Before they could enter to pay their respects
The first request was to all disinfect
By cleaning their hands with sanitizer provided
While social distancing six feet - they were all reminded.
Everyone had to show a card that proved
They were vaccinated at least times two.
They were all to wear masks to filter the air
In case Covid was in attendance there.
The comic - so funny while he was alive
Couldn’t resist entertaining even after he died.
Lying very still in a handsome blue suit
The comic exuded humor even though he was mute.
And as each person approached the casket to say a goodbye
Some laughed or you could see a smile in their eyes.
For the comic was lying there even in death
Wearing a face mask to not be a threat!
Why is this virus still shining bright?
Even brighter than the sunlight.
Covid why not leave our sight ?
We are super tired of the fight !
Reality don’t have any knight,
That is way too right.
Virus we are not your delight ,
Instead you are our fright!
Covid you are way too tight,
It is time for you to flight .
Especially before holidays night!
Climbing the walls
or are they holding me?
Really anxiety is a slow moving plague;
Over the lingering fear;
Not a question, not an answer
always excusing irrational behavior;
Viral spread of ‘You better listen’
ignoring the slow decline of freedom;
Radical screams pepper no substance;
Under the mask is the real virus
slowly smothering independence.
The numbers remain on the rise,
We’re oblivious to the reason why.
Our leader continues to ignore the signs,
This pandemic has reached a new height.
The year has felt full of rainy days,
It may suck but we are all growing.
A rainbow is certainly in the making,
Something beautiful is on the way.
It’s time to embrace a new norm,
Like moving into a college dorm.
America’s been hit with the virus,
The world seems to have gone silent.
Rain is meant to make things grow,
Even in rough circumstances like these.
A garden will blossom soon you’ll see,
And soon God’s blessings will overflow.
We need a touch of inspiration,
To lighten our pain and frustration.
Despite the sacrifices and amendments,
America remains mad and against us.
With the entire country on lockdown,
It seems impossible not to feel down.
It’s hard for us to keep our head up,
When worldly issues continue to pile up.
Everyone is on edge and extremely sensitive,
An eruption could occur at the drop of a pen.
Race, injustice, and corruption are the triggers,
The black and blue bullets are the driving killer.
An awakened volcano is not a pretty sight,
Any moment it may start yelling at the sky.
Surely people are on the verge of blowing up,
It’s a challenging time to keep our head up.
Out of patience and sick of waiting,
I just want to get out and socialize.
Despite what I want to go and do,
Need to be smart and safe when I do.
I’m not going out like the Florida fools,
Or chilling with friends by the pool.
I just want to get out of the freaking house,
I’ve never been good at lying around.
Some of us can remain sheltered full time,
Others are bored as hell in these times.
Some people are so driven by fear,
Won’t go anywhere no matter how near.
Can’t live life trapped in a bubble,
That doesn't mean go and form huddles.
Can’t close yourself off from society,
That’s like internalizing personal anxiety.
Caught up in broke and broken
operating on what we can;
Ready to rise by your own bootstraps?
Or fall, never to be reimagined;
No answers with a diagnosis
ask if humanity is worth saving;
Vitamins flood a prescription we should know ;
It’s a dangerous money making machine;
Redefining lifestyles can change everything;
Understand you have a choice to stand up;
Stop feeding pharmacies instead of yourself.
They could be anywhere
Greased on my bus fare. Any Tom Dick or Jack and Solitaire
On every bit of bittie bit, on any drop of there.
They're everywhere in ambush
On every pull you push. Each panicked ceramic royal flush
Pirates hide, ride crazy-eyed, with itch-sticky triggers to crush.
And anything I breathe
Down the red throat of my sleeve. The miasma mere clean teeth can't cleave
Goes in out in out freaked out out, so every grin and weep's knot-weaved
And my besiegement
Unrelieved.
Waking up to Christmas Carols,
The strings, pianos and trumpets play,
"Mary's born child", "It's Christmas time",
But where be the festive times?
In a world full of trouble, endless wars,
With the unknown forces of hell,
May this season, though not be the best,
Be the most blessed Christmas ever.
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