Karen May Songs, Art & Poetry
Up The Anti Body

Up The Anti Body

This out of sight mind
Finds little cracks
And leaves them wide open
To little attacks

This broad-spectrum brain
Doesn’t close doors
So coldness and cruel rain
Create little sores

This bad-ass bacteria
Munches the crust
And multiplies madly
The cankerous crust

This non-descript nerve
Crumbles under the strain
And constant catastrophe
Gives birth to pain

This throbbing theology
Thirsts for a theory
But drunk on despair
Fails to analyse clearly

This damned, dark disease
Holds you hostage once more
And you search for the light
But you don’t know what for

This mind-bending microscope
Frantic to focus
Screams, “Somebody stop this.
Before this thing chokes us!”

This petrified person
Finds ‘Last Chance Saloon’
And courageously cringes
In General P’s room

This maestro of medicine
Tests like a text book
Predictable patter then
“Let’s take a look.”

This tactical try-out
Scores nothing to see
But some ‘poor, sad sod smiles’
From him, not from me

This maladroit malady
Mutters, “Nice try.”
And takes you back home
For a feed, while you cry

This wicked, wide world
Sees a worm in a rut
And it’s patience parameters
Keep your mouth shut

This ‘on my own, all alone’
Force-fed, dead feeling
Is fattened and thrives
On the pain of concealing

The ghost of a germ
So benign to the blind
“If it’s not in the body,
It’s all in the mind.”

This ironic philosophy
Throws us together
Each hopes for the other
That makes us better.


 
 
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