Long Diabetic Poems
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BY GRAND MOM MOM where'd you go---
grand mom-mom she worn a veil
that covered her neck
she wore hand made knit sweater
she sits in her rocker recliner
still stitching quilts
wears open loose ankle socks
cause she's diabetic
still makes homemade soup cuts up vegetables by hand
the world needs this
where is grand mom mom now????????
by grand mom mom where' you go
municipal codes, governmental woes
lock up them elderly separate their clothes
sell their paid houses and cars
maybe after all her goods and wares are sold
just to house her spirit and body sit apart
maybe she can keep her recliner
Family and government subliminally throws her away
now you ask where is she today
where is grand mom mom now????????
by grand mom mom where' you go
municipal codes, governmental woes
being tired of being ignored and abuse
one morning grand mom mom decided to chose
not to be alone
so she went, home?
12/19/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©
We’re on the same boat
Nurses and teachers,
Doctors and farmers,
Mr. Moreno and his “maricon”
Enrico Macias and his dry guitar,
We are on the same boat,
The Sevillans and the Marseillais,
The Brazilians and their forests,
My sister Anne and her diabetic patients
Catholics and Muslims,
we are on the same boat,
firefighters and butchers,
The jellyfish and the ancient Greeks,
Psychiatrists and Carl Jung,
the Breton cakes and the scholars,
We are on the same boat,
The astrophysicists and mangousts,
Tarzan and the pizza eaters,
The farmers and gold miners,
We are on a steaming boat,
That of men who seek God.
The diabetes Fraud
On Der Spiegel today I read that a solution to diabetes had been discovered, the article showed a serious medical staff breaking out
In jubilation, followed by happy patients
The reason it was not made official was because the big pharma would shut it down
Hang on!
I remember having read the same article 5 years ago about a rare plant in Peru that in powder and taken before bed would cure Diabetes
A spoonful of this stuff a day will surely keep Doctors away
The rare plant from a hidden valley in Peru now
In liquid form are costly, but what the heck
A diabetic is willing to pay any price to be able
To be cured right?
You will hitherto be slim and handsome again Full of energy vigorously march forward to new life, thanks to a flower in Peru
Such a fraud, the slimming of your bank account, you have been had when the blood sugar is too high and it is back to insulin again
A Moral Tale
It was about a conversation I had
late at night when diabetic pain did its best
to keep me awake and the broken femur
stopped me from moving
Who the hell do you think you are
wallowing in pain, enjoying your distress
Get up, switch on your computer, and see
A distressing picture of those unfortunate
sleeping on the pavement
Don't put up your nose worrying about
the state of their underwear, you have
a woman coming every day to bathe you
and comb your hair
And more, you can, on your Walker, go to
kitchen and make a sarnie with sardines
in tomato sauce
I slapped my operated-on leg, the pain
It was immense, so there take that.
I have the most unlike heroes, like the rich guy
Elon Musk, yes, him, with fifteen children
Alone, he struggles to repopulate the world
all he gets is smirky smiles
With my courage restored, I made coffee
switched on YouTube, about Venezuela
where people were running out of
sardines in tomato sauce and proper coffee
Diabetic hand-book
If you forgot why you are in the kitchen it is
probably because cause your wife has hided
the nectar.
Wives are no good in letting you remember.
Sex over eighty is cumbersome and clumsy
avoid it at all cost.
If you can´t remember yesterdays’ lunch
the likelihood is it was boring.
If you can´t remember your cat´s name do not worry
it doesn´t know either.
If your diabetic feet restrict your walking. try a treadmill
when you see a blank wall remind yourself
that you were bored too when young.
Swimming can be good but preferable in a child´s pool.
The point of all these exercises is to live longer
but you will only live as long as nature intended,
Warm buttery flakey croissants with almond filling,
Homemade sugar-laden donuts, hot out of the frying vat,
German chocolate cake with loads of scrumptious sweet coconut,
Sweetened graham cracker crust key lime pie with a sprig garnish,
Peanut butter cookies, oozing with chocolate morsels,
Grandma’s sugar mints, in pinks and greens, pretty enough for a wedding,
Delicious apple cobbler, crisscrossed with cinnamon and sugar crust,
I salivate my feelings toward these favorite foods.
You may keep your vegetables and your fruits, your seafood and your chicken.
The only vegetable I want is mashed potatoes, and please do not ruin it with garlic.
Instead, stir it into a giant vat of butter, so much you have to re-heat it.
Your beef can wander down by the barn and sit on a stump for all I care.
Unless I am in the mood to make my famous meatloaf with the diabetic-coma-brown-sugar topping.
It will knock me out in seconds, and I am re-thinking the vegetables.
I would like a big cob of Iowa sweet corn that has been bathing in butter for a week.
With so much salt and pepper, most people would turn their noses up.
I am a food connoisseur; can you tell?
Mrs. C and Mrs. H. had a little competition
They did not call it that, but their husbands knew.
It was a baking challenge, not featured on TV.
and their men benefited big time from it.
Mrs. C. held a coffee at her house on Tuesdays.
She served scrumptious desserts with whipped cream.
One time there was a pastry with oozing blueberries.
Today her concoction was stacked high with pancakes.
Mrs. H. would ooh and ahh and comment, but secretly seethe.
Her coffees were on Thursdays, and it was difficult to top Mrs. C’s pastries.
The husbands begged to come along, knowing what treat was in store.
On Thursday Mrs. H. served a quintessential peach cobbler.
They have done it again! The men retired to their couches for naps.
The women congratulated each other.
That is two days a week we can do what we want, they agreed.
Loving that they had put their husbands into a diabetic trance of sorts.
can't you see
that you disguise words
of love
into our conversations
you try to disguise it
yes
but
you show your true colors
and I know
I disgust
you
You
hand me
roses
the scent
so intoxicating
it draws me
closer
to you
and
your showing your
undying affections
tp me
but its
to advertise your generosity
to the
world, but you
show nothing but lies to me
the stems from the roses are full of thorns
hidden under the leaves
which prick
my skin
and i bleed
all over them
the pain throbs
much deeper than you realize
as you
make outlandish
promises
that you love me
and that you want me
they are
so full of fluff
that they rise higher than the clouds
and
yet
I believe them!!!
until
my eyes rain down tears
so hard
its raining cats and dogs
and
\yet
you smile that innocent smile
I think you have fooled yourself
Haven't you?
You have not fooled me
I know
that
your lies and promises
will
no longer be secret
I know you love your
damn bragging rights
your arrogance is astounding
enough
to make me gag
on your
sick words
Diabetic to your taste, feed me not
your sweet words
fore' they are deadly
and
I cannot stomach them
The slump
My doctor, like many medics, knows little concerning
diabetes, but she does her share of guessing and gives advice according to her assumption
Cheer up, she says, you look sad.
Depression is a part of the illness, walking on a treadmill of illusion to stave off a coma that hangs onto the sick like an ill-fitting cape, a heroic actor will not be seen dead wearing
Beans! She says triumphantly is good for diabetes with
meat and veg, pauses, and suggests walking is good
Diabetic ice cream, she says, must be good on a hot day
it is full of artificial sugar, I say. No, I'm not about to help her
I know what she likes, should I invite her to a classy restaurant, it must be posh as she goes to her hairdresser twice weekly
Do you still smoke? No, but it makes no difference Tobacco, has nothing to do with diabetes
She grabs her pad and writes out some tablets to be taken
twice a week
and come back in six months.
Looks out of the window and asks herself if you are still alive!
She knows I'm a mind reader.
Started a new diet yesterday
Doc said I can’t keep living this way
I’ve got high blood pressure and cholesterol
He said I’m lucky to be alive at all
Was rambling about my A1C
Diabetic is where I’ll soon be
My liver is just about to go AWOL
I’m really lucky to be alive at all
No more hot dogs, burgers, or a shake
Fish and chicken can only be baked
No potato chips, pizza, or alcohol
Because I’m lucky to be alive at all
Must stay away from bacon and pies
No more of them McDonald’s French fries
No Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, or Fireballs
I guess I’m lucky to be alive at all
I have to give up all sweets and fat
They say no carbs is now where it’s at
No trips to the fridge when I hear ice-cream call
Well man, I’m lucky to be alive at all
At dinner time I can only cry
Still can’t believe that’s a portion size
A piece of grey meat the size of a golf ball
At least, I’m lucky to be alive at all
Now I sit in the corner and bawl
Too weak to walk so I have to crawl
I take my shower propped up against the wall
So tell me, am I even alive at all